Moving into my new house. This one is in the Northern part of Zhuhai.

So I’ve been scanning my face and other biometrics so that I can get in the doors, ports, parking lots, and my house doors. No one in China really uses keys any more.

But with all that, we have utilities and all the rest that need to be done.

So, in general moving from one house to another is the same everywhere. It’s just that in China you must include adaptation for technology advancements and change.

All in all, we often get all caught up in the glitz and glamor of new technology, but each time we encounter it, we need to learn. Do you remember learning MS DOS. Then windows? Then Lunix? Then then AI coding…

For me, for instance I am learning how to port Librewriter files into Sigil as unformulated HTML to edit into HTML5 for extraction as EPUB3.

It’s no longer as simple and writing out a story with a pencil in hand and a tablet on the desk.

Things have become more complex.

Yet the youth of today adapt so quickly. The stuff the elementary kids are playing with here in China will BLOW YOUR MIND.

It’s a new world.

Today….

America “We Don’t Need Canada” — Now Watch What Happens (Trade War Backfire)

What happened unexpectedly at a party you were invited to?

My parents were friends with the hops silo manager at the Carlsberg Brewery in Denmark.
One winter evening in the late ’70s, I was invited by the eldest of his three sons to come and play three-cushion billiards (tre bande carambole) in their den while the parents were out at some party.

His mum had prepared triangular cucumber sandwiches (his dad had spent years as a Carlsberg manager in the UK). Next to the billiards table stood a fridge, thoughtfully stocked by United Breweries with the four most popular varieties of Tuborg (Christmas brew) and Carlsberg (Elephant, Special Brew and 25) — one per shelf.

By happy coincidence, each of us preferred a different variety, so we claimed a shelf each.

As the evening wore on, our game of billiards deteriorated in direct proportion to the amount of beer consumed, and we decided to stop before anyone ruined the green baize.

The drinking continued, of course — and eventually, the fridge was empty. We weren’t.

I crashed on an air mattress in the eldest boy’s room. The next morning, I woke to the sight of oddly coloured icicles hanging just outside the bedroom window.

Apparently, my mate had woken in the night and decided it would be rude to vomit over the side of the bed onto his guest, so — in a stroke of gallant desperation — he had leaned out of the top pane of a two-section window, the kind with a top-hinged casement, and thrown up into the cold Danish night instead.

His parents were not amused — especially his dad, when it was discovered that the four of us had managed to polish off nearly 40 beers. My favourite was Carlsberg 25 (=25cl), so I ended up about two beers short of the others in total volume — but then again, I was a lightweight compared to a brew manager’s sons.

Funny how memory works. I can still picture the sandwiches — and I can still name all four beers — more than 45 years later.

1

What would be the best way for the U.S to invade Iran and remove any chance of them having a nuclear weapon like they did to Iraq in the early 2000s? Just stragicic answers please. No answers allowed that argue the morality or possibility, alright?

Unfortunately as of 14/6/2025, I cannot post any content on Israel or against the State of Israel

I entered into an Agreement yesterday to license my content to two parties to use OUTSIDE INDIA and one key oral clause was NO UNACCEPTABLE CONTENT specifically referring to any and all remarks against Israel

Anything written post today will renege the agreement on Israel

So I advise you to follow a friend of mine Satish s/O Santhirasegaran who is known for his hard hitting answers on such content😁

Is This Becoming Common?

The one-sided relationship focus in the West is what has destroyed relationships. Worth your time to watch. Some serious points are being made here. Without balance, you have something that is lop-sided. Lop-sided things tend to fall down and break.

What impact could the inclusion of previously unreported economic activities, like night markets, have on China’s GDP figures?

China’s GDP , if calculated like the US GDP with assumed rentals and accrued services could be as much as $ 22.50 Trillion or around 165 Trillion RMB

In fact the realistic GDP of China could be as much as $ 27 Trillion if the RMB was valued more realistically at around 6 RMB to 1 USD

The GDP Per Capita could be as much as $ 19,200

---

It’s the LAST THING CHINA WANTS

China unlike India or US doesn’t care about gloating about GDP numbers too much because it won’t make a difference inside China where people don’t really care too much about such statistics

However China wants it’s DEVELOPING status to continue at the WTO

If China is regarded as a DEVELOPED NATION based on the Adjusted Per Capita GDP ($ 19,200 for China is equivalent to $ 27,700 – far more than the $ 25,000 Limit set by organizations):-

• China would be subject to 149 regulations instead of a mere 31 regulations at the WTO
• China would be subject to 21 Clauses in Environmental Impact alone and it’s Rare Earth Refining Dominance will come into question
• China’s permission to bypass the Investment Cap for Developed Countries will be stopped meaning future BRI funding no longer can be limitless
• China’s access to nearly $ 7 Trillion of potential Credit at low rates , where they can borrow at 2.34% and lend at 5.10% will come to an end

So China is perfectly happy keeping it’s GDP numbers lower and taking all advantages of a Developing Nation

It’s Yuan to USD Rate of 7.20 is easily 20% lower than the realistic 6.00

It excludes plenty of assured Services including all small businesses at County and Town level

Honey ‘n’ Spice Chicken Kabobs

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

• 1 can drained pineapple chunks
• 1 medium green bell pepper
• 1/2 cup Heinz 57 Sauce
• 1/4 cup honey
• 4 skinless boneless chicken breast halves

Instructions

1. Blanch bell pepper in boiling water 1 minute; drain.
2. Cut each chicken breast into 4 pieces.
3. Alternately thread chicken, green pepper and pineapple onto skewers.
4. Combine 57 Sauce and honey.
5. Brush kabobs with 57 Sauce mixture.
6. Broil, about 6 inches from heat source, 12 to 14 minutes, turning and brushing with 57 Sauce mixture once.

Stupid Moms On Paternity Court

Question1: Very urgent

1.The U.S. defense industry is entirely dependent on China for rare earth imports and lacks domestic processing capabilities.

2. The rare earth reserves of the US Department of Defense can only support 18 months of military production (such as F-35 fighter jets, missile guidance systems, etc.). However, this data only applies to light rare earths, and the actual support capacity of heavy rare earth reserves is less than 6 months.

3. While the U.S. has domestic rare earth mines (like Mountain Pass), 90% of extracted ore must be shipped to China for processing. Domestic refining capacity is virtually nonexistent. Even with raw ore stockpiles, without China’s purification and separation technology, these materials cannot be converted into usable forms (e.g., neodymium-iron-boron magnets, high-purity gadolinium fluoride gas).

4. China holds over 90% of the global patents for rare earth separation and 92% of the heavy rare earth refining capacity. It will take at least 10 years or more for the United States to rebuild its domestic industrial chain, and the cost will be 3 to 7 times that of China.

F-35 fighter jets

https://www.nytimes.com/2025/06/03/business/rare-earth-metals-china.html#:~:text=China%20has%20suspended%20almost%20all,the%20United%20States%20and%20Europe.

Question2: It can be argued that if an agreement cannot be reached and China refuses to supply rare earths to the U.S., the U.S. military and high-tech industries may simply collapse:

1. F-35 fighter jets require 417 kilograms of rare earths (including heavy rare earths) per aircraft, and each Virginia-class nuclear submarine consumes 4 tons of rare earths. If the supply is cut off, the U.S. military industry will face a crisis such as the shutdown of the F-35 production line, delays in the delivery of missiles, and the inability to maintain radar systems.

2. The U.S. Department of Defense assesses that a sustained 90-day shortage of rare earths could lead to the closure of 78% of defense contractors’ production lines, and that the Strategic Missile Forces may even be forced to cut back on their nuclear deterrent;

3. 2-3 kilograms of neodymium-iron-boron magnets are needed for each electric car, and 600 kilograms of rare earths are consumed per megawatt of wind turbine. Ford, Tesla and other car companies have already suspended production lines due to rare earth shortages, and if the supply shortage continues, the production capacity of new energy vehicles across the U.S. may drop by more than 50%, and green energy transition programs (such as the goals of the Inflation Reduction Act) will be completely shelved;

4. Chip etching required 7N gadolinium fluoride gas (purity 99.99999%) is almost entirely supplied by China, supply cuts will lead to wafer defect rate surge, Intel and other companies were forced to suspend factory expansion 19. fiber optic communications, 5G base stations and other key infrastructure will also be paralyzed by a shortage of rare earth materials;

F-35 fighter jets

In short, I’m truly puzzled. Despite China holding the rare earths trump card, which seems to have the US by the throat, why does the US still dare to impose a 245% tariff? Perhaps Trump has realized this and has begun to yield, taking the initiative to negotiate with China.

Russians Ambushed Ukrainian D-30 Howitzer Convoy at Extremely Close Range! GoPro Battle Footage

An annoying klaxon on the Perfect Blend’s bridge announced a threat to the ship’s current first contact mission with the Arabican delegation. A holographic alert flashed crimson across the viewport, “SWPC WARNING: Geomagnetic Storm Macchiato, Category 4, approaching Sector 7.”

Captain Penumbra Luna smiled at the storm’s designation as she studied the approaching phenomenon, watching purple-green energy swirl through the black void. The storm’s leading edge formed a pattern that looked like her typical morning latte art, though considerably more ominous in scale. She’d seen her share of space weather, but something about this storm’s fluid movement set her nerves on edge.

“Lieutenant Roastio, status report,” Luna said, calling out.

“Electromagnetic disturbances up forty-seven percent, Captain. Quantum communication buoys showing interference.” Roastio worked her console while surrounded by empty coffee cups from her long five-hour shift. “The wave patterns are exhibiting unusual harmonics—almost like they’re being stirred by an invisible force. Engineering reports the shield generators are drawing twenty-three percent more power than normal just from the leading edge.”

“Commander Affogato, implement shield modification sequence Luna-Seven,” Luna said as the storm’s tendrils stretched toward them. Her expertise in storm navigation had saved more than a few ships, though she secretly credited her success to sustaining perfect caffeine levels during crisis situations. Luna held the highest regard for Affogato’s expertise, though she noticed him stifling a yawn. Third shift was always the hardest without proper caffeination.

“Ensign Cortado, adjust our heading to zero-three-seven mark twelve,” Luna said. “Let’s try to skim the storm’s outer layers rather than punch straight through.”

The ship’s computer chimed in with its serene, yet irritating, voice: “Storm duration estimate: twelve hours, seventeen minutes. Shield modifications recommended. Non-essential systems may experience interference. Crew advisory: Prepare for possible gravitational fluctuations.”

Luna suppressed a groan. Twelve hours. The length of three standard duty shifts. This was going to require some serious coffee intake. “Commander, you have the bridge. That storm pattern looks too much like steamed milk. I need to clear my head before it gets worse.” As she stood, the first subtle tremor ran through the deck plating beneath her feet.

The turbo lift ride to Luna’s quarters felt longer than usual, her mind already anticipating the perfect cup from her BREW-3000. The sophisticated machine had been a gift from the Barista Academy after she’d given a guest lecture on “Maintaining Perfect Crema in Zero Gravity.” But when the doors slid open, something felt wrong. Her quarters appeared untouched, except for one glaring absence—the gleaming coffee maker was missing from its dedicated alcove, leaving behind only a faint ring of coffee oils on the polished surface.

“Computer, locate BREW-3000 unit registered to me, Captain Luna.”

“Unable to comply. Electromagnetic interference affecting internal sensors,” the computer said with what Luna swore was a hint of sympathy.

Perfect timing. The backup replicators would be useless too, affected by the storm’s interference. And the Arabican delegation was due to arrive for first contact ceremonies as soon as the brunt of the storm passed—caffeine-worshipping diplomats who judged other cultures by their coffee-making capabilities. First contact protocol specified using a properly pulled espresso shot in their ceremonies.

Luna formed a mental list of suspects while rubbing her temples. Ensign Lux Meteor topped it—his mobile coffee cart business was failing because crew members preferred the BREW-3000’s superior beverages. His last quarterly review had mentioned “excessive bitterness”—in both his coffee and his attitude. Dr. Corona Eclipse had been running an aggressive “Caffeine-Free Ship” campaign, claiming coffee addiction was destroying crew productivity. The doctor’s latest memo had singled out the captain’s BREW-3000 as “enabling dependency.” Lately, Chief Engineer Stella “Pulsar” Stellar had been desperate for parts, and she admired the BREW-3000’s engineering. Then there was Ambassador Nebula, representing a tea-drinking society but showing jittery behavior lately and an unusual interest in Earth’s coffee culture.

She found Meteor first, his coffee cart parked in a quiet corridor near Hydroponics. Bot MAX, the cleaning robot, polished the floor nearby with unusual thoroughness, its optical sensors lingering just a bit too long on Meteor’s cart.

“Rough day, Ensign?” Luna asked, noting his dejected posture and the fresh coffee stain on his uniform—at least he was consistent in his inability to manage crema.

“Captain! I… yes. Three customers today. Three! And one just wanted hot water.” He gestured at his cart’s financial display, which showed a graph trending downward like an over-extracted espresso. “I’m thinking of switching to herbal tea smoothies.”

Luna opened her mouth to respond when the ship lurched. The storm’s first major fluctuation sent coffee cups sliding across Meteor’s cart, leaving abstract patterns of brown liquid that looked like the storm’s swirls. Luna’s head throbbed—caffeine withdrawal set in, creating pressure behind her eyes like a porta filter locked too tight.

“Bridge to Captain Luna,” Affogato’s voice crackled through interference. “Storm intensity increasing. Shield modifications required. We’re seeing some unusual power fluctuations in decks three through seven.”

“On my way,” Luna said, giving Meteor a sharp look. “We’ll continue this discussion later.”

As she strode toward the bridge, Luna massaged her temples. She had a missing coffee maker, a massive storm, approaching diplomats, and a growing list of suspects. And now, the telltale pressure behind her eyes warned that caffeine withdrawal symptoms were just beginning. The purple-green storm luminescence glowing through the portholes wasn’t helping her headache either.

Behind her, Bot MAX continued its meticulous cleaning, humming what sounded like an ancient coffee grinder’s song, its movements as precise as a barista’s morning routine.

The storm’s intensity doubled in the time it took Luna to reach the bridge. Its colorful energy cascaded across the viewport in waves that sent coffee cups sliding across consoles despite the artificial gravity. Lieutenant Roastio grabbed her last full cup before it could spill, clutching it like a lifeline.

“Status report,” Luna ordered, forcing herself to focus. She could have sworn the swirling patterns outside were forming perfect rosettes.

“Shield harmonics holding at eighty-two percent, Captain,” Commander Affogato reported. “But we’re seeing unusual power fluctuations throughout the ship. Gravity plating is starting to—” His speech cut off as the deck swayed, sending crew members stumbling.

“Engineering reports the gravity generators are being affected by the electromagnetic interference,” Roastio added, finally losing her battle with the coffee cup. Dark liquid arced through the air in slow motion as gravity fluctuated. “We’re getting similar reports from all decks. And the replicators are offline now.”

Luna gripped her chair, her temples pounding. Every flash of the storm felt like needles behind her eyes. She needed to find the BREW-3000, and fast. But first, she had to ensure the ship’s safety.

“Divert power from non-essential systems to the shields,” she commanded. “And someone find me Dr. Eclipse. Her anti-caffeine campaign can wait until we’re through this storm.”

Luna found Eclipse in the medical bay, surrounded by crew members complaining of headaches and dizziness. She noticed wrinkles in the doctor’s usual crisp lab coat and the slight tremble in her hands as she provided care.

“Interesting timing for your caffeine-free initiative, Doctor,” Luna said, watching as Eclipse almost dropped a hypospray. “Especially with the Arabican delegation arriving soon.”

“Captain!” Eclipse jumped, then composed herself. “I assure you, my campaign is based purely on medical evidence. Though I admit, this storm’s timing is… unfortunate.” She shot a nervous glance at a cabinet behind her desk.

Luna’s suspicion deepened when she caught sight of what looked like an energy drink container shoved behind some medical supplies in haste. Before she could investigate further, her communicator chirped.

“Captain to Engineering ASAP!” Chief Engineer Stellar’s voice crackled through static. “We’ve got problems with the power distribution grid. I need authorization to rebuild the secondary coupling array.”

“On my way,” Luna said, giving Eclipse a final scrutinizing look. The doctor’s nervous glance at the cabinet raised a red flag.

Chaos engulfed Engineering when Luna arrived. Stellar darted between panels like a caffeinated hummingbird, her trademark star-shaped hair clips askew. Mysterious components that cluttered the chief’s workspace looked like they could have come from a high-end coffee maker.

“Captain!” Stellar called out, her voice muffled as she dove halfway into an access panel. “The storm’s affecting our power grid worse than expected. I’ve been trying to cobble together a backup system, but I’m missing some crucial parts. High-grade thermal regulators, precision flow controllers…” She emerged, wiping sweat away from her forehead. “The kind of components you might find in, say, a BREW-3000?”

Luna’s eyes narrowed. “Interesting example, Chief. Have you seen one recently?”

Before Stellar could respond, Ambassador Nebula burst into Engineering, more jittery than ever. “Captain! I must protest these power fluctuations! My quarters’ environmental controls are malfunctioning, and my personal… er, tea preparation equipment is not functioning!”

Luna noted the ambassador’s twitching fingers and the faint aroma of what wasn’t tea clinging to his ceremonial robes.

A violent shake rattled the ship. “Bridge to Captain,” Affogato’s said through the intercom. “Storm intensity increasing. Shield harmonics are becoming unstable. We need you up here.”

Luna’s head felt like it was being squeezed in a malfunctioning French press. The lack of coffee was affecting her judgment—she could have sworn she just saw Bot MAX roll past the engineering bay doors, its cleaning routine taking it somewhere it had already been too many times today.

“Chief, get those power systems stabilized,” Luna ordered. “Ambassador, please return to your quarters. Doctor Eclipse’s medical team can assist with any discomfort from the storm. And someone find me Ensign Meteor—his coffee cart’s maintenance logs might help us trace any similar missing components.”

As Luna headed back to the bridge, the storm’s swirling pattern seemed to mock her caffeine-deprived state. She needed her BREW-3000, she needed stable shields, and she needed to figure out why everyone was acting so suspect. Most of all, she needed to solve this before the Arabican delegation arrived, or their first contact might well be their last.

A flashing notification on her datapad caught her attention—the ship’s maintenance tracking system showing Bot MAX’s cleaning route for the past hour. Luna frowned at the display. The robot’s normally efficient programming should have taken it through each section once, yet here it was, repeatedly returning to the same corridor near maintenance junction four. The captain’s caffeine-starved mind latched onto this anomaly like a targeting scanner.

Luna diverted from her path to the bridge, following the maintenance robot’s location indicator on her datapad. She found it where the system showed, methodically cleaning an already spotless corridor near the maintenance shaft.

“Stop right there, MAX,” Luna commanded as the robot approached the shaft entrance.

Bot MAX paused, its optical sensors rotating. “Greetings, Captain. I am performing routine cleaning and organization of untidy items.”

“In a maintenance shaft?” Luna raised an eyebrow, fighting back another wave of dizziness.

“Affirmative. Crew must store items in proper places. Mess is inefficient. Processing…” The robot’s lights blinked in a pattern that reminded Luna of coffee drops falling into an espresso cup.

A violent tremor rocked the ship as the storm reached its peak intensity. Through the nearest porthole, the purple-green swirls had become a dazzling maelstrom that seemed to mirror Luna’s coffee-deprived state of mind. Emergency lights flickered as power systems failed ship wide.

“Captain!” Commander Affogato’s voice crackled through her communicator. “Shield harmonics critical! Primary power failing! The Arabican delegation’s ship is approaching—” The transmission cut off in a burst of static.

Luna steadied herself against the wall and peered into the maintenance shaft. There, arranged with robotic precision, sat her beloved BREW-3000 among a collection of “disorganized” items Bot MAX had deemed necessary to “properly store.” The coffee maker gleamed in the emergency lighting, undamaged and, Luna noticed with a mix of amusement and exasperation, in perfect alignment with the shaft’s support struts.

“MAX, explain your cleaning protocols regarding coffee-making equipment.”

“Directive: Maintain ship cleanliness and organization. Coffee preparation creates mess. Solution: Relocate mess-creating devices to organized storage. Error rate reduced by ninety-nine-point seven percent.” Another ship-wide power fluctuation interrupted the robot’s explanation.

Luna might have laughed if the situation wasn’t so dire. “And the other suspects?”

“Dr. Eclipse’s energy drink consumption: Messy. Ambassador Nebula’s hidden coffee shrine: Disorganized. Chief Engineer Stellar’s improvised coffee maker: Inefficient. Ensign Meteor’s cart: Suboptimal arrangement.”

A sudden inspiration struck Luna as the artificial gravity failed completely. The BREW-3000 had been designed for performance in zero-gravity environments—a feature she’d never fully appreciated until now.

Minutes later, Luna floated into the main conference room, the BREW-3000 anchored to produce exquisite coffee in defiance of both gravity and storm. The Arabican delegation watched awestruck as she demonstrated the machine’s capabilities, creating drinks in perfect layers that hung suspended in globules of artistic beauty.

The Arabican High Consul watched the swirling energy outside match the rotation of the coffee drops. “Those storm patterns mirror your mastery of coffee in zero gravity. Most impressive.”

“And your cleaning robot’s dedication to proper coffee preparation protocols is admirable,” another delegate added, watching Bot MAX track and collect each floating drop of coffee.

By the time the primary power was restored, the Arabicans had not only signed the alliance treaty but had also recognized Bot MAX as the first non-organic entity to receive the title of “Chief Beverage Security Officer.” The Federation implemented the new “Bot MAX Protocol” across the fleet, programming all cleaning robots with an appreciation for proper coffee preparation and storage.

The storm’s final swirls painted an aurora across space as Luna sat in her ready room, enjoying a perfectly crafted latte while reviewing the day’s reports. Each suspect’s situation had resolved itself: Ensign Meteor was now enrolled in her personal barista training program, showing remarkable improvement under proper instruction. Dr. Eclipse had admitted that moderate coffee consumption could actually boost crew performance, especially during electromagnetic storms. Chief Engineer Stellar had received proper requisition approval for her innovative coffee-maker-inspired power coupling designs. And Ambassador Nebula had finally revealed their culture’s secret appreciation for coffee, leading to a cultural exchange program focused on brewing techniques.

Bot MAX hummed as it cleaned nearby, its new golden “CBSO” badge sparkling. Luna smiled as she watched the aurora’s colors dance across her coffee’s surface, creating patterns that would have made any barista proud.

“Captain,” Bot MAX announced, its sensors analyzing her coffee cup, “your latte art is zero-point-three millimeters asymmetrical. Shall I adjust the BREW-3000’s calibration?”

Luna laughed. Some things never changed—and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Husband Hides Camera While At Work To CATCH Wife Then This Happens…

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Great Kitten Gaokao Escape

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale of academic anguish, potato-powered chaos, and the most unconventional exam strategy ever devised. Today’s adventure stars Ditto the Kitten, whose first encounter with standardized testing becomes a barnyard free-for-all when Chester the Handyman and Rufus the Dog turn his “Kitten Gaokao” into a chew toy heist. So sharpen your pencils (or your claws), and join us for The Great Kitten Gaokao Escape—where the only thing being graded is sheer absurdity.

Act 1: The Exam Begins (Against All Odds)

The barn had been transformed into a high-stakes testing center—or at least, that’s what Taxman Ted insisted.

• Ted: “This is a serious examination! No cheating, no distractions, and absolutely no napping!”
• Ditto: [Blinking innocently] “Napping? Napping?”
• Sir Whiskerton: “Ted, he’s a kitten. His entire existence is a nap with breaks for chaos.”

Ignoring all logic, Ted locked Ditto inside with:

• One (1) exam paper (“Advanced Mouse-Chasing Theory”).
• Two (2) sharpened pencils (one immediately rolled under a hay bale).
• Zero (0) survival instincts.

Act 2: The Potato-Powered Jailbreak

Enter Chester the Handyman, who misinterpreted “helping” as “tunneling through the barn wall with a potato-powered drill.”

• Chester: “The Handyman’s Handbook says nothing about academic integrity!” (The handbook, upside-down in his pocket, was actually a comic book.)
• The Drill: A repurposed rotten potato strapped to a fishing reel. It emitted a smell so potent, even Bessie the Cow gagged.

With a FWUMP, Chester burst through the wall—just as Rufus the Dog bounded in, mistaking the exam paper for a tasty, tasty chew toy.

• Rufus: [Mouth full of paper] “A+ for flavor!”
• Ditto: [Echoing Rufus’s chewing] “Crunch! Crunch!” (His official exam response.)

Act 3: The Grading Debacle

When Taxman Ted returned, he found:

• The exam: Shredded, soggy, and half-digested.
• Chester: Covered in potato mush, holding a sign that read “Mission Accomplished?”
• Ditto: Fast asleep atop Rufus, who was still gnawing on a pencil.
• Ted: “This is unacceptable! Where is the academic rigor?!”
• Sir Whiskerton: “It’s in Rufus’s stomach. Along with your dignity.”

In the end, Ditto received a pawprint-stamped diploma from The Farmer, who declared:

• The Farmer: “Kid’s got guts. And by guts, I mean literally—Rufus, drop that.”

The Moral (and the Post-Credit Snack)

Moral: When life gives you standardized tests, eat the instructions.

Post-Credit Scene:
Rufus graduates from “Chew-versity” with a degree in Advanced Paper Destruction. His thesis? “Why All Exams Taste Like Desperation.”

Best Lines:

• “The Handyman’s Handbook says nothing about academic integrity!” – Chester, career-ending words
• “A+ for flavor!” – Rufus, gourmet scholar
• “Crunch! Crunch!” – Ditto, valedictorian of chaos

Starring:

• Ditto the Kitten (Overwhelmed Examinee)
• Chester the Handyman (Potato Anarchist)
• Rufus the Dog (Academic Gourmet)

Why It’s Hilarious:

• Absurdity: A rotten potato as a drill.
• Character Chaos: Chester’s “help” vs. Rufus’s snack-based grading system.
• Happy Ending: Ditto naps triumphantly while adults weep over shredded rules.

Now, go forth—and may your exams be edible (but not eaten). 📝🐶🥔

How 20 CIA Spies Mysteriously Disappeared in China

What is the usage of the red tassel usually seen hanging from Chinese jian swords?

Short answer. It is decorative and non-functional. A flailing object actually interferes with concentration and peripheral vision critical for combat, a matter of life or death.

How does it come about?

First what is a sword?

The Chinese sword that we are familiar with took its shape around Han dynasty. It has a loop on the handle. This is called a 繮 (jiāng, contemporary orthodox form (正字) is 韁 ), meaning rein or bridle, as used for horse riding. It is made with sinew.

We can confirm this from paintings of swords in use.

In battle, swordsmen would wrap this around their wrists so that the sword would not fly off during a fight. (The following paintings actually depicts a famous sorcerer who hunts ghosts.)

That was when swords were actually used as a cold weapon. As a decorative tool, such as for operas and Taoist exorcism, we might find that replaced by a tassel, which is visually more striking.

Yet not always, as this sword dance performer still use it as a strap.

In modern times, when swords are ornamental, even as martial arts weapons for demonstration, tassels or ribbons are common for their theatrical effects.

2

Is America headed for a nuclear war soon?

The situations in both the Ukraine and in the Middle East are both very serious, but currently (June 2025) the Middle East is the most likely to lead to a nuclear war.

1. The Middle East and culturally similar areas are a nuclear-armed powder keg. Israel, Turkey, Pakistan, India, and Saudi Arabia are all nuclear-armed and have the necessary delivery systems.
2. Iran’s breakout time to be nuclear armed is likely measured in weeks and mismanagement of relations with Iran by the West (at Israel’s behest) have virtually insured that Iran will shortly have nuclear weapons.
3. Iran has managed to forge a military reliance on them by Russia by providing drones and drone-manufacturing facilities to Russia. Russia has almost certainly responded by providing nuclear technology (everything except actual fissile material) and ballistic missile technology to Iran. This belief is based on the delivery of similar technology to North Korea in the past. Look for Russia to step up aid to Iran.
4. Israel has a huge nuclear arsenal and the delivery systems. They have used this for decades to strike fear into the minds of their neighbors. But at some point Israel’s nuclear threats have become overplayed as Israel uses its nuclear arsenal as a sort of shield against serious retaliation as it constantly attacks its neighbors. Eventually this will force Israel to use nuclear weapons. In fact, it is currently the most likely country to attack another with nuclear weapons.
5. Muslim countries are extremely susceptible to mass demands for a nuclear response to Israel because of the very tight connection between the government and politicians and religion and the Imams.
6. There will be no nuclear deal between the USA and Iran despite all the threats. The reason is extremely simple. The US unilaterally withdrew from the JCPOA while Iran was fully compliant. Iran will NEVER trust the US ever again to make such a deal because of the likelihood of another betrayal of the US word.
7. Israel has an extensive secret subversive presence within Iran that it uses constantly. Back in the day when the US overthrew the democratically-elected, non-Islamic, government of Iran and installed the brutal puppet Shah, the CIA outsourced the training of the Shah’s secret service (the SAVAK) to the Mossad for $1 billion cash (and likely some nuclear secrets to sweeten the deal.) The Mossad trained the brutal SAVAK, but also installed its own underground network of Mossad-controlled agents who were even more brutal than the SAVAK. When the Shah was deposed, the SAVAK was destroyed but the Mossad network remained and currently operates in Iran. This is a terrorist activity that can only be silenced by cutting off the head of the snake — Israel. This is something that is seldom mentioned but could well explode Iran into the most massive retaliation it could come up with.
8. At this point in time, the world considers Israel’s only real ally, the USA as weak, confused, poorly led, and unable to support Israel except with material and bombing. You cannot bomb people into liking you, but you can bomb them into hating you. No country can be subdued from the air. Period.
9. Israel’s long-standing game plan is to escalate its war with Iran to draw in the US since Israel lacks the ability to conduct even a small ground incursion against Iran. Israel can only strike from the air and hope that Iran retaliates against the US as well as Israel.
10. The most likely nuclear scenario is that there is some sort of serious “mass casualty” event in Israel and the weak Netanyahu regime responds with a nuclear weapon in response to keep Netanyahu in power (and out of prison.) This could well result in such popular demands in Muslim countries that Pakistan and Saudi Arabia respond with nukes against Israel. At that point Egypt and Turkey could both become involved with ground forces and Turkish nukes as well.

This is how things escalate.

Why doesn’t China help Iran against Israel?

China has a foreign policy written into their Constitution which says there will be NO FOREIGN INTERFERENCE by the Country using Military Force

Besides China has many Geopolitical tangles here

A. China is also close with Saudi Arabi and UAE which are not exactly best buds with Iran despite a detente

B. China is not a big fan of Hamas or Hezbollah and while China likes the two state solution, China doesn’t believe in sponsoring terrorists as they could start looking at Xinjiang again

C. China doesn’t like anything disrupting trade and they are not too happy with the Houthis as well

D. China projects itself as a Peacemaker and someone who uses Trade and Diplomacy rather than Military Force. That Image can be shattered

E. China doesn’t want to confront the US today in direct battle as China is Six Years behind as far as a thoroughly modernized military is concerned. They WILL go to war with US if they have to, ONLY OVER TAIWAN

However China will supply Iran and help them IF

• Pakistan is threatened
• Chinas Oil Supplies are threatened

Storm Harvest

Written in response to: “Set your story during — or just before — a storm.“

I was crouched on all fours. Forced to. My hands pressed against the cold, flat limestone ground that represented a perfect microcosm of the entire barren island.All my senses were piqued as I tried to figure out if the gale was done or if it was gearing up for another assault. It had scooped me off my feet and dropped me within three metres of the cliff edge. Mid-air, fear hit me with the cold belief that death was a certainty. A warning? Or was that the extent of its capability? I listened for variations in the howling and whistling, gauging how it buffeted my heavy rucksack, wondering if it was safe to get up and keep pressing on to the drop point.In the forced pause I noticed what was developing in the sky. That’s when I realised—as vicious as the wind’s attack may have been, it was only a harbinger of what was to come.Admittedly, it was somewhat foolhardy to have been so close to the edge. Doubly so to keep pushing on…knowing what was coming. But the reason I’d maintained a flawless delivery record over my five years with The Agency was because it took more than a little adverse weather to stop me. That, and perhaps the aforementioned foolhardiness…or was it dedication? I could never be sure.Reaching one hand back to grab my rucksack provided me psychological reassurance that the package inside was still safe. I rose carefully to my feet and, grabbing my shoulder straps, pushed on across the southernmost tip of the island, parallel to—and now twice as far from—the cliff edge. I guess I wasn’t that foolhardy after all.I had checked the forecast beforehand of course; my mistake was in not checking three. It’s rare, but not impossible, that a gale develops without your chosen weather source knowing about it. Furthermore, we all know of locations resistant to human prediction of atmospheric changes. The Aran island of Inishmaan is one of them. This was unfortunate, I thought, as I glanced at the sky.They call it a thunderhead. A towering flat-topped mass that seemed to be fashioning an anvil for the God of Thunder to bring his hammer crashing down onto. It had to have rebuilt itself in tandem with every step I took along the stark plateau, because I swear it was nothing but a harmless fluffy thing half an hour earlier. Of course, it was mirroring my progression precisely, clearly heading directly to my destination. The cloud was that massive it eclipsed the setting sun, so darkness dropped in twice as fast. 

My calculations told me I had roughly two kilometres to go, which would feel like four if the wind didn’t ease up. The package wasn’t that heavy, but the belligerent bluster made my rucksack feel like a small boy had stowed away in it. I yanked back the sleeve of my rugged olive parka checking the outsized display on my wrist.

 

Five sixteen. Nineteen minutes to the deadline.

 

Nineteen. I had five times that before my bicycle chain snapped halfway along the planned route. I was forced to ditch the bike and divert off the path (too long to walk), resorting to clambering over dozens of the island’s famous dry-stacked stone walls to implement a ‘short’ cut. Not so bad in essence, except for the wind.

 

Although I was focussed on each hard-earned step, I still noticed the first flashes of lightning in the west out of the corner of my eye. The last lumens of light soon capitulated to darkness, as the atmospheric beast above subdued the entire western panorama above the ocean. Inter-cloud flashes sparked, and jagged arms of light stabbed the ocean.

 

I didn’t care about the rain—my trusty parka was impenetrable—but even if you’d cut me in half at the waist I’d still be the tallest object for kilometres around. Not the best attribute in a thunderstorm. I felt certain I’d reach the drop point in plenty time to shelter, but I still pressed forward even harder against the wind. I’d run if that wouldn’t have made it easier for me to get dashed across the plateau again.

 

With the lashing Atlantic to my left I descended towards the shore on a mix of the odd stepped slabs of rock and finely rubbled slopes. That meant my foot placement had to be extra strategic; a twisted ankle would be a severe setback. I reached behind and plucked my flashlight out of my rucksack’s side pocket, directing the circle of light to the ground.

 

The cloud was invisible now except for bursts of diffuse light and sporadic vein-like extensions thrusting downwards. Lackadaisical cracks and rumbles eventually followed.

 

At the twist of my wrist a low energy blue hue lit up.

 

Five thirty-six. Nine minutes to delivery time. Still no sign of life.

 

I had descended to a point where the cliffs could no longer be called cliffs, drawn to some huge object emerging out of the dark up ahead. It seemed to be down nearer the shore and it swamped me with relief like a friend among strangers. It had to be the drop point. There was nothing else for as far as I could see and I knew the directions pointed to somewhere nearby, right on the coastline. I presumed it was some sort of building, hoped so at least—but then, there were no lights. My flashlight wasn’t powerful enough to illuminate anything yet.

 

As I marched towards it, I considered the strangeness of the job. Normally, extensive instructions were a requirement for a Red Level delivery, but the client—a Dr. Duggan—convinced our order confirmation team that industrial espionage was a real threat. He had sent a paper map by courier asking us not to copy it. I then had to memorise the location. The only other info I got from Matt at dispatch was that the sender was NASA, which we chuckled at.

 

Tastable brine mingled with the faintly scorched air. I was almost at the low rocky shore and the dark structure. I raised the flashlight’s beam but I was still a little too far away. I grabbed my shoulder straps and risked running, making up a few seconds. Clipped strides, heels dug extra hard into the ground. I skidded to a standstill within five metres, the rocks crunching and grating beneath my feet. I felt instantly doubled in weight by what I saw—the ‘building’ was in fact a huge shipwreck.

 

Time check: five forty. In five minutes the deadline would be up, and I couldn’t see any other lights or structures up or down the dark shore.

 

I was about to fail for the first time ever.

 

“Dammit. DAMMIT!”

 

It was no longer about my unblemished record though. I didn’t know what I was carrying, but eighty-two percent of the time a Red Level package meant a life or death situation. I’d never missed one of any level before, not an Orange nor a Yellow. I could blame it on the lack of info, but that didn’t make me feel any better—especially with the recipient being a doctor.

 

Rain dumped instantly, setting off a metallic pattering on the wreck. I felt the pulse in my neck joining in, battering my jugular. It increased when I heard—

 

“Are ye planning to just stand there the whole night, Lad?”

 

I spun around so fast I thought my rucksack would rip off its shoulder straps and slam the stowaway to the boulders. The voice had an echo, so I knew it must have come from inside the wreck.

 

“Dr. Duggan?”

“We can take care of introductions later. Get in here, would ye?”

 

I was flustered, but I felt like I’d just resumed breathing after holding my breath for half an hour. I still couldn’t see anyone though, every hole into the hull only pointed to darkness.

 

“Is that wise? I mean, there’s a vicious storm coming.”

“Is that what all the racket out there’s about? I always knew my doctorate in atmospheric physics was a waste o’ time.”

“Sorry. It’s just…”

“Trust me, Lad. The safest place to be is inside this rust bucket.”

 

Before I could protest further, a loud SPAKT! sounded, along with a prolonged fizzle on the other side of the ship. It came with a brief flash of light and a dump of rain. The light blazed through half of the rust holes in front of me as if the man had let off a flash-bang grenade inside the wreck. I tried to move, but logic wouldn’t allow it.

 

This doesn’t make sense!

 

“Ye don’t want to be outside this ship when the next bolt strikes,” he bellowed, having to do so due to the increasing white noise.

 

“Where do I enter?” I yelled.

“There’s a hole around port side. Hurry!”

 

The rain doubled. I pulled my hood up and crouched as I made for the other side of the wreck, as if that would keep me drier. My foot slipped on one of the hundreds of boulders the size of a curled up Labrador that were gathered around the ship.

 

Another flash, then a boom of thunder that rattled my ribcage, convincing me it would dislodge the seemingly precariously balanced vessel. The wind yanked my hood off; I wrenched it back on again. Rain sliced through the air like rapid repeating guillotines. Boulders shifted or popped away altogether underfoot making me fall shoulder first against the hull more than once.

 

I slipped through the largest rusted-through hole on the port side. Turning the flashlight on the interior showed it to be an indescribable mess of rusted metal in every shape and size you could imagine. My skin tingled unpleasantly at the idea of tetanus, nostrils overwhelmed by what felt like atomised rust scouring my windpipe.

 

“Over here.”

 

I flipped the light in the direction of the voice and was struck with something entirely opposite to the corroded catastrophe to my right. My mouth hung agape taking in lungfuls of ferrous air.

 

It was a huge black orb formed of hundreds of geometrically perfect black triangular panels that resembled plectrums for massive guitars. The structure hinted at NASA-level precision, materials and form, yanking my eyebrows up at the realisation of what I was carrying. It was suspended by more than twenty cables secured to various parts of the hull’s interior, and that interior had clearly been reinforced. A bearded and bespectacled man was standing at the open door that a short set of steps led up to.

 

“Dr Duggan?”

“The same.”

 

Although I had no idea what the orb or its capabilities were, I quickly concluded that this was why he considered it safer inside the ship, because we wouldn’t technically be inside the ship. We’d be protected by an enclosure designed by the same organisation that repeatedly and safely sends humans to space and back.

 

“We really don’t have time, Lad. If ye’re going to be struck by amazement come do it inside, rather than being struck by lightning outside.”

 

I swiftly navigated rusted bars and jutting panels. At the foot of the steps, I pulled my sleeve back, tapped the blue screen of my console and held it out toward him. He rested an index finger on it. The blue turned green and beeped.

 

I climbed into the orb.

 

*

 

Now I was in it I could see it was actually a capsule, not an orb, stretching into the bow of the carcass. The walls and furniture were moulded plastic, all cream and curves with fitted purple cushions. One side of the space was where he slept and ate, lit a faint red. The other side was dominated by a blue-green tinge emanating from dozing laptop screens and other displays and devices I’d never seen before. One green display read, ‘17.2 Kj’.

 

While I shrugged off my rucksack, the Doctor pulled the steps up the same way you would those of a Lear jet, until they were hanging upside down on the inside of the closed door. He flicked some catches which released the steps from the door entirely. He flicked some more and like magic they transformed into a stepladder. I shook my head and smiled—NASA.

 

I handed him the cardboard package. It was roughly the size and weight of two encyclopaedias side-by-side. He ripped it open with some urgency then pulled out a triangular object—one that resembled a large plectrum.

 

“What a sight for sore eyes!” And he smooched it.

 

Dr. Duggan placed the triangular tile on the top of the stepladder, then climbed up. He reached for the ceiling, opening a hatch I hadn’t noticed was there. I also hadn’t noticed how soundproofed the space was until then—thunder boomed in as if the entire storm had been waiting to squeeze in through the hatch and wreak havoc. He climbed until I could only see his legs, taking the tile up with him.

 

After a few seconds he cried, “Dammit!”

“Can I help?”

“No ye’re alright, Lad. It’s just…I’ve only got two and a half minutes or so before the ship’s struck by lightning, and these screws are finicky as all hell.”

 

I frowned and wanted to ask if he was joking. But I’d barely completed the thought before he dropped in the replaced panel, which hit the floor with a thud. It was cracked almost right across. He stepped down, hastily pulling shut the hatch above him and fumbling with the catch.

 

“Phew! Cut it close there!” I didn’t know who he was referring to.

 

He checked his watch, holding up the index finger of the other hand. A few seconds passed—then came two sounds. One was a clap, which—given the soundproofing—had to be that of a mythical giant’s hands hovering directly above the wreck. The other sound occurred concurrently, a high-pitched whistle condensed down to two seconds. Every light dimmed, flickered, then settled back to normal. Dr. Duggan smiled and put his hands down. Both fists now clenched, and even his considerable facial hair seemed to bristle, while his eyes brightened. He could’ve been struck by lightning.

 

“Wait. Did you just predict the time and place of a lightning strike?”

“Awesome, no? Well, I kind of did guide it here. What’s even more awesome is that I’ve just captured nought point one percent of the electrical power of that bolt.”

“I take it that’s a lot?”

“A helluva.”

“That…actually seems impossible.”

“Up until ye brought the new panel…it was indeed.”

“Really? How do you know you succeeded?”

“Well, there’s the fact the lights are still on. And there’s that, “he nodded towards the green display from before. It now read 538.2 Kj. “Five hundred and forty kilojoules,” he sighed, as if recounting how he’d met his first love. “Enough raw power to keep your lights on for months.” He held my shoulders. “Laddie, if ye hadn’t made it here in time, we’d have lost six months of valuable research. That cracked tile took me and NASA by surprise.”

I buzzed with a little—granted, unwarranted—pride.

“NASA. So that’s why the secrecy?”

His enthusiasm waned like the faltering lights did minutes ago. “This location is a closely guarded secret, hence the shipwreck—our competitors have satellite access. The technology I’m working on will benefit more lives than you can imagine. Millions. It being leaked before time would put it in serious jeopardy, hence why you had to sign that NDA before taking this on.”

Standing pretty much to attention, I said earnestly, “You don’t have to worry, Doctor. I’m a professional. I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

He smiled. “Your supervisor assured me you’re the most reliable he had…and its for that reason we’d like you to be our sole delivery agent of the next batch of replacements. We got caught out here; that can’t happen again. Nor can we have a recurrence of this at the other eleven sites we’re operating from worldwide.”

 

“I’d be more than happy to help,” I managed to say, in spite of the huge grin.

We shook hands.

 

*

 

The storm raged on, but rather than the anxiety it roused earlier, I felt calmer as the night progressed.

 

“You must be famished,” the Doctor said, and flicked a switch. A panel slid aside revealing a well-appointed galley kitchen.

 

We discussed details over an amazing spaghetti vongole at an electronically slid-out table, while the storm’s muted rumbles dissipated to a barely noticeable level. He revealed that the capsule was actually named C.A.P.S.U.L.E, an acronym for Capture/Analysis Processing System for Utilising Lightning Electricity. He offered little else about the project of course but we talked extensively about the future deliveries. I ended up sleeping over on his sofa while he worked through the night, energised by the day’s successes.

 

*

 

When I stepped out of the hull’s rusted hole in the morning, after bidding the Doctor farewell for now, it was like the C.A.P.S.U.L.E. had transported me to another land. From east to west the entire sky was a sharp blue. The sea lay as still as sheet glass and seagulls glided without a care while an egg yolk sun pierced the horizon.

 

I grabbed my shoulder straps and started the trek back up the incline toward the clifftops. I glanced back at the wreck. The deep burnt umber mass sat on its bed of starkly contrasting grey boulders. Obvious, yet hidden in plain sight. I smiled. I had perhaps been aa touch foolhardy in my approach, but now, as part of something that would help millions, I knew I could no longer afford to be. I’d made it through the storm, but it seemed there were more adventures to come.

Scott Bessent & George Soros: China HUMILIATED Them Once, Will It Happen AGAIN?!

Very interesting.

Shorpy

5Year loyalty test failure

Are ancient Chinese characters still legible for the average Chinese person today? If not, how did they evolve into the characters that are used in modern China?

Ordinary Chinese people can read the Lishu script.

In 221 BC, after Qin Shihuang unified the six kingdoms, he carried out two writing reforms during his short 11 years of ruling China: one was to unify the writing of the six kingdoms and change the Dazhuan script to the Xiaozhuan script; the other was to promote the Lishu script.

Xiaozhuan script

Lishu script

As Lishu was simpler, it eventually replaced Xiaozhuan, which fell out of fashion in the late Western Han Dynasty (8 AD), and Lishu and its derivatives became dominant.

Since the appearance of the “Lishu”, the font of Chinese characters has basically remained unchanged for more than 2,000 years, and the “Lishu” font is still used in modern computers.

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In 2002, a batch of Qin Dynasty bamboo slips, totaling 36,000 pieces, were unearthed in Liye Town, Longshan County, Xiangxi, Hunan, which contained the multiplication formula.

This multiplication table from more than 2,000 years ago is the earliest multiplication formula table discovered in my country. It is almost exactly the same as the multiplication formula we recite today. It can be seen that the multiplication table appeared at the latest in the Warring States Period and was very complete. Today’s Chinese students can basically read and recite this multiplication table without any obstacles.

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In the 1980s, a line of Chinese characters was found on a cliff in the Indus River Valley in Pakistan.

大魏使谷巍龙今向迷密使去

The Wei envoy Gu Weilong is now going to Mimi

This line of words can be read effortlessly by today’s Chinese, just like a modern Chinese wrote it yesterday. But in fact, this line of words was written 1,500 years ago.

“Gu Weilong” is the name of an envoy of the Wei Dynasty (386-534), and “Mimi” is the destination of his mission. “Mimi” is the name of an ancient country located near Samarkand in present-day Uzbekistan. This line of inscription was casually carved by the envoy as a commemoration when he passed by this place. It is an informal inscription, so there is no chronology or other content. The name of Gu Weilong is not found in any historical records. This is a historical mystery.

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In the 1960s, a herdsman in Turpan, Xinjiang, discovered an ancient tomb while digging the foundation. Many characters were unearthed. The tomb owner might be a teacher. When he was buried, his family made paper boots with the students’ homework and wore them on the body.

The student’s homework was to copy the text of “The Analects of Confucius: Zheng Xuan’s Notes”, which was 538 cm long and 27 cm wide. Because Xinjiang is particularly dry, it can be well preserved. After sorting, the handwriting is clearly legible. “The Analects of Confucius: Zheng Xuan’s Notes” has been lost after the Tang Dynasty. This discovery has brought the book back to the world.

Interestingly, the last signature of the homework is: 12-year-old boy Bu Tianshou, which is equivalent to a fifth-grade elementary school student now.

After verification, this homework was written in the fourth year of Jinglong in the Tang Dynasty, that is, in 710 AD. This is a homework from 1,300 years ago.

After copying the homework, the child also wrote a doggerel to complain about the teacher:

写书今日了，先生莫醎池（嫌迟），明朝是贾（假）日，早放学生归

The copying homework is completed today, Teacher, don’t complain about being late, Tomorrow is a holiday, Let me go home early

Modern Chinese can read these texts without any obstacles. This child is no different from today’s children.

This homework of Bu Tianshou is still a great contribution:

The Analects of Confucius by Zheng Xuan was written by Zheng Xuan, a great Confucian scholar in the Eastern Han Dynasty. It was highly respected in the Han, Jin, Southern and Northern Dynasties, Sui and Tang Dynasties. It should have been regarded as the officially recognized Analects of Confucius for a long time. However, such an important work was lost in the chaos of the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms… After the Song Dynasty, only fragments were left. Bu Tianshou’s homework greatly supplemented the missing parts and proofread the classics. It is a very precious document.

Baked Chicken and Dressing

Ingredients

• 4 chicken breasts, de-boned and skinned
• 2 slices mozzarella or Swiss cheese
• 1/3 cup water
• 1 can cream of chicken soup
• 2 cups Pepperidge Farm dressing
• 1/2 cup butter, melted

Instructions

1. Place chicken in baking dish. Put 1/2 slice of cheese on top of each.
2. Mix soup and water and pour over top.
3. Mix melted butter with dressing and spread over all.
4. Bake for 1 to 1 1/2 hours, uncovered, at 325 degrees F.

Is it accurate to say that Iran’s actions against the United States “could not have been carried out without the coordination and approval” of China, Russia, and North Korea officials?

China does not care about the minor conflicts between Iran, the United States and Israel. China is just a bystander.

The “China-Russia-Iran Strategic Triangle” proposed by American strategist Zbigniew Brzezinski during the Cold War is nothing more than a deceptive theory.

The Chinese people have long since got rid of the Cold War mentality, but now too many countries still hold the Cold War mentality, actively launching camp confrontations and making wrong judgements about China.

The recent change of mindset of Russia and Iran is like a TV series –

• Russia used to think they were chess players, but later discovered they were ‘chess player’s hands’;
• Iran is even more amusing, thinking that they are playing Texas hold ’em with China, but after half a day of tossing and turning, they realise that China is not even on the poker table, but purely observing the game, and they are still the kind of bigwigs who ‘can restart a new game at any time’.

When the Soviet Union was dissolved, Russia held the mentality that ‘a skinny camel is bigger than a horse’, and felt that it was a chess player in the international chess game. later, it dealt with China more, especially after the Russia-Ukraine conflict, and found that China’s basic purpose was not to ‘lose or win’, but to ‘build the chessboard and set the rules’.

A friend who is engaged in military trade in Moscow said that Russia is now buying Chinese drones and rare earths, and only then did they realise how hard China’s industrial chain cards and resource cards are – they used to think that China was begging for Russia’s co-operation, but now they realise that China is only occasionally talking about its own ideas, because China has the key to ‘restarting a new game at any time’ in its hands, and it doesn’t care whether it wins or loses on the chessboard.

Looking back at Iran, it is a typical case of ‘the awakening of a fool’. Iran has always felt that they are in Texas hold ’em and China side by side, and even secretly think that China can not leave me. Until these two years, China and Saudi Arabia, Central Asia to play the ‘Belt and Road’, new energy, infrastructure directly through the new chess game, Iran realised: China has not been on their Texas hold ’em poker table!

China attaches importance to the big chess game – Iran’s win or loss is a small game, China can always reopen a new chess game, even the chips can be lent to you to play, and ultimately can eat the whole game. Just like the businessmen in Tehran, who used to stick to the oil trade with the West, and now follow China to engage in the FTA and new energy sources, only to understand that China’s ‘chess watching’ is not a companion, but ‘not bothering to explain to you that they can lift the table at any time’.

Russia, Iran’s epiphany, also gave other countries a wake-up call:

👉 Do not use the ‘Mindset of Geopolitical Gaming’ to speculate on China, China is playing the ‘build global ecology and world order’ of the new game, want to hang out with China, first to open their own horizons!

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Moreover, although Iran preferred India over Pakistan in the Indo-Pakistani conflict, Pakistan decided to put the past behind it and help its Muslim neighbor.

4

Under what circumstances is hiking dangerous?

One common mistake is not thoroughly checking your gear.

I was out in the Alps with a friend who had little experience. We were at about 3.000 m (9,500 ft). Temperature was just above 0°C (32°F) when it started to rain. We donned raincoats. Unfortunately mine was a bit older and I hadn’t checked it recently. It turned out that the shoulders were no longer watertight while the rain got rather heavy.

After about half an hour I was soaked, water actually coming out of my boots.

I was getting cold to a point where all I wanted to do was to sit down and take a rest – hypothermia.

Lucky for me my friend kept yelling at me to keep going for another two hours until we reached our destination, a mountain hut with beds, beer and warm food.

Having put on dry clothes I sat in front of the fire. After an hour I was still shivering, feeling pins and needles all over my body (this happens when your temperature rises again to the point where your muscles will try to warm you up).

The innkeeper finally had enough. He gave me a “Jagertee”, a hot and very strong alcoholic beverage served in Austria. Since I was sitting in front of the fire there was no danger to me. Half an hour later I was slightly drunk but deliciously warm.

This taught me two lessons for hiking in the mountains:

1. I always check my gear very carefully.
2. I never leave without a bivouac bag that can double as an emergency raincoat.

Image from the actual trip an hour or two before it started raining.

What have you done recently that you’re proud of yourself for doing?

“Not My Cup of Tea” — They Said. So I Brewed My Own.

My father wanted me to take commerce after 10th.

Why?

Because, according to him, science wasn’t my cup of tea. I was from a Hindi medium school and had dared to shift to an English medium (CBSE) education. Bold move, right? But apparently, too bold.

So… what did I do?

I chose science.

And guess what? I scored only 45% in my pre-boards.

That’s when my elder sister stepped in. “Take arts,” she said, “and prepare for government exams. Cracking JEE and getting into a government college? That’s not for someone like you.”

But once again…

I disobeyed.

Taunts followed. “This isn’t for you.”

“Engineering is for the rich, for the brilliant.”

“You’ll fail.”

Maybe I should’ve listened.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I locked myself in a room for 3 straight months and studied for my 12th boards — no tuition, no coaching, no guidance. Just YouTube videos and faith. I was scared, unsure, exhausted — but I was determined. I prayed to somehow score 60%.

Result day came.

I scored 80%.

For someone who couldn’t even dream beyond 60, that 80 felt like Everest.

Science was my cup of tea — strong, bold, and brewed with belief.

But reality wasn’t done testing me.

Finances were tight. My sister advised me to pick arts again and stay home. But I had a bigger dream.

So I made a deal with myself — If I do engineering, it will only be from a government college. I’ll pay my own fees. I’ll fight for my own seat.

Year one: JEE attempt — 37 percentile.

People told me to quit.

I didn’t.

I enrolled in an arts college near home, and in year two, prepared for both — semester exams and JEE.

22nd: Arts Semester Exam.

24th: JEE Main.

Two days apart. One dream on the line.

This time, I had lost hope. But something inside still whispered, “Try again.”

Result came at 2 a.m.

The website crashed. I refreshed, again and again.

And then… it flashed.

From 37 to 90 percentile.

No coaching. No shortcuts. Just courage and consistency.

Today, I study in a reputed government engineering college in my state. I applied for scholarships — and got them. I now pay my own tuition fees, my mess bills, and even work through internships to support myself.

Looking back — every “no” I received…

Every “you can’t” I heard…

Pushed me to build the yes that became my life.

People said it wasn’t my cup of tea.

So I brewed my own blend. Strong. Bold. Fearless.

And it tastes just right. ☕

A picture of me in front of my college at the 75th anniversary

Wifi router from the Zhou dynasty 3,000 years ago.

7

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