Guys, I love a well-built house. That and naval vessels as well. But, you know I do love a fine, well-built and designed house.
Victorian style homes are awesome. I love those turrets, large shady porches, and closet (in the wall) sliding doors. Oh, and the stained glass, and pantries. So much to love.
But today I want to share my love for Craftsman style homes with you all. It’s a pleasure to live in one, and a wonderful place to raise a family in.
Enjoy these wonderful pictures…
Here’s some more. I really, REALLY love this style of home and the precision and artistic taste that it all represents…
I have never lived in such a house as I could never afford it, and there just wasn’t any available when I was house hunting. That is life.
*sigh*
Today, we explore…
In what non-monetary way do you feel ultra wealthy?
I am 67 years old
I can walk 3.4 Kms a day every day
I can eat Vandi food without stomach problems
I don’t wake up at 2 AM to go to the toilet so far
I am tolerably tech savvy enough to understand AI generated content and whether a device is compatible with Android 12
My father at the same age didn’t know how to switch on a computer
After 1 1/2 years, finally I got permission for a group tour to China either in 2025/26
So i guess things aren’t too bad
Is there currently open warfare between the United States and China over economic issues rather than military ones?
What is happening is that US wants to contain China. But it is not strong enough to do it. This is quite frustrating. Warfare is too strong a world. Contest is also not accurate. China does not see the contest. It just disregards the US does its own things. Being disregarded is doubly frustrating.
More so that China continues to make headway with frequent announcements of this or that breakthroughs, innovations, and inventions. Doubly more so that in doing so, it is gaining friends, influence, and admiration from other countries. Especially as these countries include those that it once considered in its closet, such as the Middle East, and countries it considers its backyard, such as Latin America.
China is too strong to be contained. Indeed, on many metrics, such as trade and industries, China is stronger. It is much stronger in green tech, from renewables power generation through the supply chain to products and usages, such as solar panels and EVs.
And China is prepared to take on the US. This is in sharp relief in the DeepSeek vs OpenAI ChatGPT saga. DeepSeek goes open-source and uses algorithm efficiency and innovations to contest with GPT’s big money and computation power. DeepSeek has won wide acclaim outside the US.
US sees China’s rise as its fall. But what can it do? Its sanctions pool is drying or already dried. As mentioned above, it is not the stronger party. China has more power to initiate sanctions. It does not need US tech. US is helpless about China’s rising international image. Its messages to denounce China and accuse it of all sorts of bad things ring hollow everywhere. All the big propaganda money spent for nothing.
Trump only knows tariffs, but his tariffs are universal, not just for China. They have attracted retaliations by China, Canada, and Mexico. EU said it will retaliate. Other countries may be expected to do so as well.
Trump’s tariffs are not US vs China. They are US vs the world. There is no trade war between US and China, but there are a lot of disruptions in their trade.
INTERNATIONAL STUDENTS IN AMERICA GIVE THEIR VIEWS ON TIKTOK REFUGEES ON REDNOTE |CHINESE
Peanut Butter Bread
Ingredients
- 3/4 cup hot water
- 3/4 cup peanut butter
- 3/4 cup milk
- 1/3 cup granulated sugar
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1 egg, slightly beaten
- 2 cups all-purpose flour
- 4 teaspoons baking powder
- 3/4 cup chopped salted peanuts
Instructions
- Place a metal rack or trivet in a slow cooker.
- Grease a 5 or 6 cup mold.
- In a large bowl, pour hot water over peanut butter.
- Stir in milk, sugar, salt, egg, flour, baking powder and peanuts.
- Stir well.
- Spoon batter into prepared mold.
- Cover and cook on HIGH for about 5 hours.
- Remove mold and let stand for 10 minutes.
- Turn out on cooling rack.
- Slice and serve warm or cool.
- Spread with butter, marmalade or jam.
CHICKEN LITTLE WAS RIGHT
Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Write a story about a character who is trying to share groundbreaking news, but isn’t being taken seriously.… view prompt
Susan Catucci
SPEC-%^+: And the alternative?
EKK-&#@: Do or die; they have to do better or . . .
SPEC-%^+: They can still turn things around. They just have to stop, look and listen.
EKK-&#@: For their sake, at least, let us hope they remember how.
* * *
“Mom? Where’s Zippy?” Chloe yelled from the playroom.
Amanda was in the kitchen attempting to get Chloe’s little sister to eat more cereal.
“I haven’t seen him. Did you check under your bed?”
“He better not be!”
There was only one reason her favorite toy would be under a bed; the family beagle, Oscar, had retreated with the stuffed creature to give it a good chew. Zippy was surprisingly resilient and hadn’t sustained permanent damage by way of rips or tears, but Chloe reasoned there could always be a first time.
Zippy had become the most popular toy the prior holiday season. This was a product that just seemed to appear in practically every toy and department store across the globe one day and became an instant sensation. Every child either had one or relentlessly campaigned for one.
Zippy came in a multitude of bright colors and sizes, no two exactly alike, but they all had Zippy’s signature ink-blue eyes and helmet with double antenna that, when you squeezed his plush belly, would shoot a harmless electric current back and forth between them. The doll also doubled as a nightlight and, if you squeezed his nose, would exude a warm glow.
“Oscar! Do you have Zippy? If I catch. . .”
Oscar scrambled past Chloe as she entered her room.
“Hah! Thought so. Run, you slobbering thief!”
She saw one of Zippy’s arms beckoning from under her bed. She quickly went to gather her friend.
“I turn my back for one second . . . no cuts or tears. Whew, good. But, ugh, slimy . . . gross, Oscar!”
Chloe dangled Zippy between two fingers and took him to Amanda.
“Look, Mom. Zippy’s been slimed again.”
“I told you, Chloe, Oscar doesn’t know any better. If you want Zippy to be out of harm’s way . . .”
“I know. I know. I was just brushing my teeth.”
“Well, why don’t you try washing Zippy this time? You’ve seen me do it. I’ll bet you can manage.”
“Sure! Hey, Zip, how ‘bout a bath?”
Chloe pinched the sky blue material on Zippy’s back and flew him with accompanying jet rocket sounds upstairs to the kids’ bathroom that had a step-stool for her to reach the sink. She ran water.
“Don’t make it too hot.”
Chloe looked around. “Mom?”
Chloe frowned. She looked at Zippy; he sat, matted and rumpled, on the towel rack where she’d placed him. She turned back to the sink.
“I do not wish to alarm you.”
This time, Chloe caught the flash of current between Zippy’s antennae out of the corner of her eye. She stared in the mirror before her and focused on her stuffed friend, furrowing her brow.
“W-was . . .”
“Amanda always makes the water too hot. She thinks she’s neutralizing the proteobacterial content of the canine’s sputum when, in actuality, she’s spreading actinobacteria to further crevasses in my exterior. Well, not mine, per se . . .”
Chloe stared at the toy with fascination and trepidation in equal measure. She tried closing her eyes and covering her face with her hands.
When I look up again, things will go back the way they were. One . . . two . . .
“I simply have no touch, do I? Forgive me, Chloe. May I call you . . .?”
Chloe slowly opened her eyes to see Zippy sitting up on the towel rack with his silver space boots dangling and two cloth hands adjusting his helmet. “I’ve never done this, you know.”
Chloe turned around. There was no doubt. Zippy was alive, or something along those lines.
“Are you going to hurt us?” Chloe’s voice sounded small as she began crumbling.
Zippy looked up, alarmed. His electric currents buzzed.
“No, no, negative, no. I’ll explain all that I can, but we are here to help you preserve your world.”
Chloe took her toothpaste glass and had a sip of water.
“You know I’m just a kid, right?”
“Negative. You are actually much, much more, Chloe. You are just not aware.”
“But I don’t know where to start.”
Zippy sniffed his elbow and made a face.
“How about a little wash-up?”
Chloe took in the funny little creature that had been her companion for as long as she could remember. She sighed.
“Bar soap or bubbles?”
* * *
EEK-&#@ and SPEC-%^+ sat with other covert project personnel around a long oval conference table. The esteemed gathering, made up of the galaxy’s top engineers, scientists, philosophers, and architects, prepared for an important announcement that could determine the next course of action in re: Planet Earth, the Doomsday Planet.
* * *
Zippy, freshly laundered and blow-dried by seven-year old Chloe, suggested they go to one of Chloe’s secret hiding places to talk more. Chloe packed juice boxes and snack bars in a backpack, placed Zippy in an outside pocket, and yelled to her mother from the kitchen.
“I’m going to play outside, Mom.”
“Take Missy with you.”
Chloe looked at Zippy, who didn’t move. Missy was five years old and Chloe adored her but she could be a handful. Chloe sighed. What am I supposed to do now?
Missy, dressed in pigtails and overalls, bounded into the kitchen.
“Can I, can I, Coco?”
Chloe smiled. “Coco” was Missy’s name for her, coined in the days Missy hadn’t yet mastered her “L” sounds.
Tell her it’s all right.
Chloe startled.
Who’s that?
She glanced at her backpack and Zippy.
Oh dear, I’ve done it again. I hadn’t told you we can communicate this way, Chloe. It’s called telepathy. If you think something meant for me to hear, I will hear it. All else is private and won’t transmit. Is that acceptable?
Chloe, staring at her pack, slowly nodded.
“Coco?”
Chloe shook her head, clearing it, looked back to Missy.
“Oh, yeah, sure. I got us some snacks, Missy. I was going to the clubhouse. You can come if you want.”
Missy jumped up and down, clapping her hands.
Just as they reached the kitchen door that opened out to the backyard, they heard the clattering of toenails.
“Oscar!” Missy knelt to greet the beagle.
Chloe smiled, “Come on, boy!”
Zippy’s voice in her head said, I must warn you that if I should fall out of this portapack, or whatever you call it, we shall need more communication concerning the matter of this bacteria-carrying lifeform that seems to enjoy defacing defenseless objects.
Chloe closed her eyes.
Do you always talk this much?
Well, actually, yes. I have been silent for quite some time, you know.
They were greeted by a warm summer day, the kind of day that you would bottle, if you could, and keep always. Of course, there was nothing to suggest that all was not right with the world, or the universe for that matter.
* * *
The monitor onboard Spacecraft Module ZK8*11 buzzed and sizzled as it came to life, revealing several galactic guards with their identities digitized. The attendees at the conference table focused their attention on the 5-D screen.
“IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT COMING UP – STAY TUNED”
* * *
Missy wanted to play on the swing set near the ladder to the clubhouse. Oscar playfully barked at her feet as she swung back and forth, giggling.
Chloe watched them for a moment before climbing the few steps to the tree-house dubbed NASA Jr. It had posters of planets, constellations and rockets. Chloe sat near a window to keep an eye on Missy.
Why now?
Zippy relaxed into himself.
Why . . .
Talk to me? Why now?
One of my assignments was to learn your language proficiently and communicate in a way that you will best be able to comprehend the important message we have for your planet, and you.
I don’t know what you just said. So, you’ve been alive all this time?
Yes. Studying, observing, taking notes, submitting reports . . .
Why? What for? Who for?
Zippy squinted, looking pensive.
Hmm. I might be going too quickly.
Wait a minute. Were you watching the whole time I had chicken pox? And the tummy flu?
Rest assured, you have been a worthy specimen in all categories.
Really? Can I tell my mom about you?
Zippy shuddered.
We don’t trust adults. None of us do.
But my mom’s nice . . . us? Who’s us?
The beings where I come from. Exo.
How’d you wind up in a toy store?
We were sent to study you.
Me?
Children. In my world, you would be considered a pupae. From our experience and information, the adult of your species is the greatest danger facing the universe today.
Oh, c’mon. They’re not that bad.
You, in your present state of development, are perfect, Chloe, I don’t expect you to be able to comprehend the horrors that await at the end of your growth cycle.
Some of the words you say, Zippy, I really don’t understand.
Trust me, Chloe, don’t tell your mom.
* * *
The monitor remained frozen in the conference room, the pixilated guards hadn’t moved a dot. The words “Stand by” remained fixed on the screen. Low murmurings began to form and slowly escalate among the gathered participants.
* * *
Chloe heard the back door close, then watched as her mother carried a tray to the picnic table. She heard the tinkling of ice and glass.
“Lemonade, girls!” Amanda called.
Missy skidded to a stop and ran from the swing, Oscar close on her heels.
Chloe turned to Zippy.
Wanna come?
Wouldn’t miss it.
Chloe looked at Zippy before picking him up.
Are you ever thirsty? Hungry?
No, we stockpile adequate sustenance before we leave the ship.
How many of you are there?
We are hoping enough to make a difference.
“Chloe, lemonade!”
What is it you want me to do?
Patience, Chloe. I’ve already given you a lot to think about. Just understand that I want to help, not harm, you or your planet.
That’s a relief.
Chloe joined her mom and Missy at the picnic table. She sipped her drink and barely nibbled at a gingersnap, thinking.
“Where’d ya go, Chlo’?”
Chloe’s mother was staring at Chloe as intently as Chloe had been staring into space.
Missy’s concentration was being used to dip a cookie into her lemonade. Her little voice echoed, “Where ya go, Coco?”
I still think you’re wrong about my mom. She’s great; you’ll see.
Be my guest. Zippy’s voice seemed to shrug.
Chloe reached for a napkin.
“Mom?”
“Yes, Chloe.”
“Do you believe in UFO’s?”
“Well, I can’t say I really think about it. There’s enough going on here to fill my attention.”
“Do you believe in aliens?”
“Not having given any real thought to UFO’s, I would put aliens in the same category. I don’t know.”
Zippy entered Chloe’s mind. Good luck.
Missy looked up. “What, Coco?”
Chloe looked at Missy, puzzled. “What what?”
Amanda reached over with a towel to wipe crumbs from Missy’s chin.
Missy made a face as her mouth was cleaned. “I heard somebody say ‘good luck.’ Was it you?”
Chloe stared at Missy, surprised.
She heard Zippy’s voice again. Ah, see? The children are all waking up.
Missy looked miffed. “Not me. I’m already awake.”
Chloe turned to her mother.
“Mom, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it, Chloe?”
“Something is happening, I’m not sure exactly what.”
“Did something happen? Can you tell me anything more?”
Tell her Planet Earth is at a tipping point.
Chloe took a deep breath.
“Earth is in trouble, Mom.”
“Oh, honey.”
Amanda slid closer to her daughter.
“That’s really not something that you need to worry about.”
“Aren’t you? Worried?”
“Have you been watching the news? You have no idea how blown out of proportion things can get.”
Chloe sat quietly, thinking.
“This is different, Mom. These are things I know.”
“Know? Sweetheart, how can you know? You’re letting your imagination run away with you, just like Chicken Little.”
Missy dribbled lemonade, giggling. “The sky is falling!”
Chloe shook her head, “You’re not listening. How can you hear me if you don’t listen?”
Bingo!
Missy was still giggling to herself. “Bingo.”
Amanda cleared her throat. “Since your father left, Chloe, it’s just been us girls. I think we’ve done pretty well. Remember what I told you? You really only have two things to think about right now. One, be a good student in school. Two, be the best Chloe you know how to be.”
Chloe sat quietly for another moment.
“What if there is no school?”
“Chloe?”
“How can I be the best of something if there’s nothing left?”
* * *
That’s when the sirens began.
“Let’s get in the house, girls, now. Oscar!”
“Mommy, look at the sky!”
Missy was pointing upward. The blue, cloudless sky had been blanketed with thick grey-purple swirls of pending gloom. The edges roiled with static and the low rumble of thunder.
They gathered their things and hurried inside. Amanda turned on the television and was met with crackling static from every station. She held her dread at bay as she gathered candles, radio, batteries and settled Missy with a picture book and some crackers. Oscar would be wherever the crackers were.
Chloe retreated to her room and closed the door. She sat on her bed holding Zippy.
What’s going to happen?
The electric current between Zippy’s antenna crackled and spat.
The announcement’s been made by the Panel of Elders that Earth currently is a doomsday planet. That’s not a surprise.
Are we all going to die?
Not necessarily. This can all change with certain steps. Did you notice when you said your mother wouldn’t listen? Listening is the beginning of wisdom. You know that, just as your mother once did. She’s lost touch.
With what?
Herself.
Can she get herself back?
She’s all there. She just needs to see it. You can’t do it for her but you can help.
Chloe’s door popped open. Missy bounced in.
“I want to help.”
* * *
EKK-&#@ lingered after the other project members had dispersed. He looked out into the vastness of space, relishing the natural calm of the universe, glad to play a role in keeping it that way. SPEC-%^+ joined him at the window, handing over a celebratory flute of spirits and raising his.
It might be a little soon to celebrate.
But our calculations were correct. All the feedback supported it.
You know, this study was never about whether earth is headed for self-destruction. The concern’s always been to prevent neighboring or visiting lifeforms from being annihilated along with it. It still seems only a matter of time.
So what have we been doing all this time?
The adults are still in a state of contamination. Some have potential but, for the most part, the Earthlings have dug a hole for themselves, their own black hole, as it were.
Does anyone really believe the under-developed humans can save their planet?
Who knows? We’ll need to keep a close eye on them, in any event. With a model ZIP-321 in most homes, they may come out of this intact. Let’s just say it‘s too early to celebrate.
Well, then, let’s recalibrate. Here’s to peace and harmony.
And high ideals.
Cheers!
* * *
Amanda knocked on Chloe’s door.
“Chloe? May I come in?”
Chloe grinned at Missy. “Come in.”
“The storm’s over. That was so sudden! I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
That was just a warning. You should tell her.
Missy ran to Amanda and wrapped her arms around her knees.
“It’s a warning, Mommy.”
Amanda scooped Missy into her arms and kissed her cheek. She then turned her attention to Chloe. Chloe patted the space next to her on the bed. Oscar ran past Amanda and jumped on the bed, wagging his tail furiously and settling in close to Chloe. Amanda sat on the other side of Oscar with Missy in her lap.
“You should listen, Mom. I’m not good at explaining . . .”
“It’s not you, Chloe. You always amaze me with your super smart questions and wild imagination.”
“Not so wild this time, Mom. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
“I’m sorry, Chloe. Life is a busy blur sometimes, for me anyway, and I think for lots of people. I get stuck. If I didn’t listen to you, it’s because I just didn’t have room for anymore.”
“Anymore what?”
“Anymore anything.”
Missy looked up suddenly, stricken. “What about me?”
Amanda pressed Missy’s sweet, sticky face between her hands. “There’s always room for Missy.”
Chloe appeared to be listening to something. When she looked up, she smiled.
“It’s a good start, Mom. We’re headed in the right direction.”
China has Built a Submarine with a Propulsion System Nobody Else Has
Shorpy
Steve Bannon’s ‘Flood the Zone’ Strategy Explained Amid Trump Policy Blitz
The Trump administration’s approach of overwhelming the media and opposition with a constant stream of directives and policy announcements is facing increased scrutiny as his second term begins.
Origins of the Strategy
The term “flood the zone” was reportedly coined by former White House chief strategist Steve Bannon in 2018. He described it as a method to deal with the media by inundating them with information, making it difficult for opponents to respond effectively.
Bannon’s strategy aimed to overwhelm both Democrats and the media by executing numerous initiatives simultaneously, making it nearly impossible to counter them all at once. President Trump has seemingly embraced this tactic in his second term, issuing a relentless number of policy announcements and executive orders.
While Bannon is not directly involved in the strategy this time, Stephen Miller, the deputy White House chief of staff for policy, has taken the lead in implementing it. By the end of January, Trump had signed 46 executive orders, a significant portion of his previous total from his first term and a third of the number signed during Biden’s administration. The executive orders span a range of issues, from transgender rights to trade tariffs and technology initiatives.
Implementation and Key Figures
The Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), headed by billionaire Trump adviser Elon Musk, has also acted swiftly, embedding personnel across federal agencies, including the U.S. Treasury and USAID. Miller, a key architect of the approach, spent the transition period between the 2024 election and Inauguration Day drafting executive orders and policy initiatives.
Bannon first articulated the strategy publicly in a 2018 interview with Bloomberg Opinion columnist Michael Lewis, referring to the media as “the real opposition” and advocating for overwhelming them with excessive information. He elaborated on the idea in a 2019 PBS interview, stating that the media can only focus on one issue at a time and that flooding them with multiple developments ensures that the administration’s agenda advances with minimal resistance.
Media Manipulation and Misinformation
A 2020 Vox article explained that “flooding the zone” not only overwhelms opponents but also injects misinformation into the information ecosystem, creating confusion and public distrust of the media.
The Impact of Trump’s Strategy
The New York Times recently analyzed the administration’s execution of this approach, noting that while Bannon and other Trump allies have discussed it in the past, its current application is “bigger, wider, and more brutally efficient.” The strategy has created a “disorienting effect,” making it difficult for Democrats to respond effectively.
Representative Jamie Raskin (D-MD), ranking member of the House Judiciary Committee, described the onslaught as “sensory overload,” likening it to an unending barrage of political maneuvers. Similarly, journalist Ezra Klein emphasized that democracy depends on focus, arguing that Trump’s rapid policy rollout prevents the public and opposition from effectively scrutinizing past actions.
Reactions from Experts and Lawmakers
Ty Cobb, former White House legal adviser, characterized the strategy as “a naked power grab” aimed at pushing as many controversial policies as possible in hopes that some will stick. Clayton Weimers, Executive Director of Reporters Without Borders USA, echoed this concern, warning that the strategy seeks to cloud transparency and accountability in government.
Democratic Representative Gerry Connolly (D-VA) warned on social media that the administration’s flood of policy actions is designed to exhaust opposition. Meanwhile, Republican Representative Chip Roy (R-TX) has accused Democrats of using the same tactic, particularly in immigration policy, claiming they are “deliberately flooding the zone” with foreign nationals to erode traditional American values.
Democrats are organizing efforts to push back, holding press conferences and calling for greater accountability. Legal challenges have already been launched against some of Trump’s more controversial policies, including attempts to end birthright citizenship and freeze federal grants. Several injunctions have already been issued, slowing some of these efforts.
As Trump’s administration continues to execute this strategy, opposition forces will need to find ways to counteract the relentless pace and restore focus to individual policy battles.
Why has China, as a developing country, continued to produce major scientific and technological achievements in recent years, such as the sixth-generation aircraft and Deepseek?
Talk show actor Ronny Chian once told a joke:
“I’d rather die for my country!!”
“Man, you’re willing to die for this country. Why aren’t you willing to learn math, also for this country?”
“I’D RATHER DIE!”
“I thought so. I thought that might be the case. Dying’s easy. Math is hard.”
This is a perfect answer for this question.
How close are Xi Jinping and his “government” to being thrown out by mainland Chinese citizens?
The Chinese state as a centralized administration is 2,200 years old.
The recorded pedigree of Confucius is over 80 generations, spanning 2,500 years.
This is the year 2025, and the Chinese people living in Greater China are enjoying the best living standards in their long history.
In other words, the descendants of confucius today are enjoying the zenith of Chinese civilization.
And guess what?
It is only going to get better, as the goal of moderate prosperity is still some decades away.
The question doesn’t make sense, not when unprecedented progress in the history of mankind has been made, with the best yet to be.
President Xi has repaired the legitimacy of the party through the determined fight against corruption, and life has improved under his stewardship. China has evolved into a more just and equal society as China embarks on institutionalization of key governmental services. The social contract is being rewritten with safety nets and quality of service upgrades.
President Xi can push policies through mandate. The people trust him and his team to make the best decisions for the state, even if they may be painful.
I don’t think anyone can do a better job than him at this point.
Mark Sleboda: Putin & China’s BOMBSHELL Destroys Trump’s Trap, Reshapes World Order
Only 400 million away! The box office of the 2025 Chinese Spring Festival movie “Nezha 2” is about to exceed “Star Wars”.
Many theaters have an attendance rate of more than 50%, and popcorn sales have set a record high.
This year’s Spring Festival, the Chinese film market is very lively, and the most dazzling star is “Nezha: The Devil Boy Conquers the Dragon King”.
This animated film not only set off a wave of movie-watching in China, but also ran all the way on the global film history single market box office list.
Now it is only 400 million away from the top of the list “Star Wars: The Force Awakens”. Since its release on January 29, “Nezha 2” has been soaring at the box office, quickly breaking through 6.3 billion yuan, and the total number of viewers has reached 125 million, successfully topping the Chinese film history box office list. Its popularity is beyond imagination.
Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Mysterious Piñata
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for another uproarious adventure on Sir Whiskerton’s farm, where the animals are as eccentric as ever, and the mischief is always just a whisker away. Today’s tale involves a piñata that falls off the back of a truck, terrifies the barnyard, and becomes a permanent fixture of farm life. The farmer, in a bizarre twist, names it Bartholomew and starts having daily conversations with it, leaving the animals baffled, frustrated, and divided over whether Bartholomew is a wise sage or just extraordinarily stupid. So, grab your sense of humor and let’s dive into The Case of the Mysterious Piñata.
The Plot Thickens
It all began on a quiet afternoon when Sir Whiskerton was enjoying his usual sunbeam on the barn roof. The peace was shattered by a loud thud as something colorful and mysterious landed squarely in the middle of the barnyard.
“What in whiskers’ name is that?!” Sir Whiskerton exclaimed, his tail puffing up in alarm.
The other animals gathered around the strange object, their eyes wide with fear. It was a piñata—a bright, cheerful donkey-shaped piñata with a goofy grin and a rainbow of streamers.
“Is it… alive?” Doris the Hen clucked nervously, pecking at the ground as if expecting the piñata to move.
Harriet added, “Alive! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian promptly fainted into a pile of hay.
Porkchop the Pig, ever the skeptic, snorted. “It’s just a piñata. You know, the kind you whack with a stick until candy falls out. No big deal.”
But before Porkchop could explain further, the farmer wandered into the barnyard, scratching his head. He stopped in front of the piñata, tilted his hat, and said, “Well, hello there, fella. Where’d you come from?”
The animals exchanged confused glances. “Uh, Farmer,” Rufus the Dog said, wagging his tail. “That’s not a ‘fella.’ It’s a piñata.”
The farmer ignored Rufus and continued talking to the piñata. “You look like a Bartholomew to me. Yep, that’s your name now. Bartholomew the Piñata. Welcome to the farm!”
And just like that, Bartholomew became a permanent fixture of the barnyard. The farmer visited him daily, having long, one-sided conversations about the weather, crop rotations, and the meaning of life.
The Great Piñata Debate
The animals, no longer afraid of Bartholomew, quickly became divided over his true nature. Some, like Ferdinand the Duck, believed Bartholomew was a wise sage, silently imparting profound wisdom to the farmer.
“Just look at him,” Ferdinand quacked, gesturing dramatically. “That blank stare, that serene smile. He’s clearly a philosopher in piñata form.”
Others, like Porkchop, thought Bartholomew was just extraordinarily stupid. “He’s a piñata,” Porkchop snorted. “He’s filled with candy and has no brain. How can he be wise?”
The debate raged on, with the barnyard animals splitting into two factions: Team Wise Piñata and Team Stupid Piñata. Sir Whiskerton, ever the diplomat, tried to mediate.
“Alright, everyone,” Sir Whiskerton said, flicking his tail. “Let’s not get carried away. Bartholomew is just a piñata. He’s not wise, and he’s not stupid. He’s… well, he’s just there.”
But the animals weren’t convinced. They began holding daily meetings around Bartholomew, trying to reason with him or prove their point.
“Bartholomew,” Doris said, clucking softly. “If you’re so wise, tell us: why do chickens cross the road?”
Bartholomew, of course, said nothing, his goofy grin unwavering.
“See?” Porkchop said, smirking. “Stupid.”
Ferdinand, undeterred, tried a different approach. “Bartholomew, what is the meaning of life?”
Again, Bartholomew remained silent.
“Ah, profound,” Ferdinand said, nodding sagely. “He speaks in riddles.”
The Farmer’s Daily Visits
Meanwhile, the farmer continued his daily visits to Bartholomew, treating him like a trusted confidant. “You know, Bartholomew,” the farmer said one morning, “sometimes I feel like no one understands me. But you get it, don’t you?”
Bartholomew, as always, said nothing.
“That’s what I thought,” the farmer said, patting the piñata on the head. “You’re a good listener.”
The animals watched in disbelief. “Is he serious?” Rufus asked, tilting his head. “He’s talking to a piñata like it’s his best friend.”
Sir Whiskerton sighed. “Apparently so. But as long as it keeps him happy, I suppose we can live with it.”
The Moral of the Story
As the days turned into weeks, the animals eventually came to accept Bartholomew as part of the farm. The debates about his wisdom (or lack thereof) continued, but they no longer caused arguments. Instead, they became a source of humor and camaraderie.
One evening, as the sun set over the barnyard, Sir Whiskerton addressed the gathered animals. “Well, my friends, it seems we’ve learned an important lesson today.”
Doris clucked softly. “That piñatas are weird?”
Sir Whiskerton shook his head. “No, Doris. The lesson is that sometimes, it’s okay not to have all the answers. Bartholomew may not be wise, and he may not be stupid, but he’s brought us together in a strange way. And that’s something to be grateful for.”
Ferdinand quacked in agreement. “And who knows? Maybe there’s a little bit of wisdom in all of us, even if we don’t say a word.”
Porkchop snorted. “Or maybe we’re all just a little bit stupid.”
The animals laughed, and even Bartholomew seemed to smile a little wider in the fading light.
A Happy Ending
And so, Bartholomew the Piñata remained a permanent fixture of the farm, rain or shine. The farmer continued his daily visits, the animals continued their debates, and Sir Whiskerton continued to keep the peace. Life on the farm was as chaotic as ever, but it was also full of laughter, friendship, and the occasional philosophical piñata.
Ditto, who had been watching from the sidelines, echoed, “Philosophical piñata! Philosophical piñata!”
Echo, not to be outdone, added, “Philosophical piñata! Philosophical piñata!”
And with that, the animals returned to their usual routines, content in the knowledge that once again, Sir Whiskerton had saved the farm from chaos—or at least from taking itself too seriously.
The End.
Proliferation, Retaliation, And Other Consequences Of The War On Iran
There are several aspects of the U.S. and Israeli attacks on nuclear facilities that deserve further discussions:
- Non-proliferation issues
- Retaliation by Iran
- Consequences of unlawful behavior
Before the U.S. and Israeli strikes on its nuclear facilities Iran was a long standing member of the Treaty for the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (NPT). The IAEA, tasked with verifying the adherence to the NPT, was able to inspect Iranian facilities. It knew, down to the milligram, how much enriched Uranian Iran had produced and where it was stored.
Western intelligence services as well as the IAEA did not only confirm that Iran had no nuclear weapons. They confirmed that Iran did not even have a nuclear weapon program. There were no plans to produce any weapons.
All that is now in doubt.
The NPT’s objective was to prevent the spread of nuclear weapons and weapons technology and to promote cooperation in the peaceful uses of nuclear energy. The second part was the reason why non-nuclear nations have joined the treaty.
The U.S. demand that Iran should stop all enrichment of Uranium, as needed for civilian nuclear reactors, and the attack on Iran’s peaceful nuclear facilities make it obvious that Iran is getting deprived of all the positive elements the NPT had promised. There are also serious concerns that the IAEA has leaked the names of Iranian nuclear scientists to Israel which in the end led to their assassinations.
From Iran’s side a continuation of its membership in the NPT and any cooperation with the IAEA have lost their purpose. There is no longer any reason to stay within the agreement. Iran is likely to leave the NPT.
That does mean, and does not make it more likely, that Iran will start to produce nuclear weapons. There are principal, religiously bound reasons why it has so far refrained from doing so. Those have not changed.
Iran has said that it had moved all enriched Uranium from its Fordow enrichment site shortly before the U.S. strike on the installation:
A senior Iranian source claimed to Reuters that before the U.S. attack on the Fordow nuclear facility last night (Sunday), all of the stock of enriched uranium at the site was transferred to another location.At the same time, satellite images captured a large convoy moving near the underground nuclear facility two days before the attack. It is believed that this may be documentation of the transfer of the enriched material.
Some 400 kilogram of Uranium, enriched to 60% of U-235 isotopes needed for fission chain reactions, were squirreled away. The IAEA does not know where they are. Iran also still has a sufficient numbers of its most modern centrifuges needed for further enrichment. It can produced more if it needs those. Iran also has several other bunkers, similar to the Fordow and Natanz sites, which were build and equipped to eventually house additional enrichment facilities. Those sites are not (yet) known to the IAEA and have never been inspected.
I do expect that Iran will leave the NPT. It will ‘go dark’ about its nuclear program. It will not announce where it will do what with the nuclear material it has. The IAEA will no longer be allowed to have knowledge of it. This will make Iran a ‘latent’ nuclear weapon state even while it refrains from having a nuclear weapon.
Some might argue that Iran will not do that as it would make further U.S. attacks on it more likely.
Hello? The U.S. has just attacked Iran without ANY cause. It is likely to do so again, independent of whether Iran stays with the NPT rules or not.
Being a ‘latent’ nuclear weapon state constitutes an additional deterrence. The longer Iran stays in that state, the higher the risk for any attacker to be countered by nuclear means.
The attacks on Iran’s nuclear facilities were not done to prevent it from getting nuclear weapons. The attacks are to provoke a violent response which can then be used to launch an all out war with the end-purpose of regime change in Iran.
[The Israeli government launched its attacks on Iran under the operation name ‘Rising Lion’.
There is however no easy way to regime change Iran. The Iranian society is largely standing behind its government. That government is well established and seen as legitimate. It does not depend on one person. Even the Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei is easily replaceable. The regular military is counterbalanced with the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps. This makes a military coup plot untenable.
Unless there is a large scale foreign land invasion, supported by this or that minority in Iran, there is no chance to topple the Islamic Republic. The U.S. no longer has the Cold-War army that would potentially be able to do such.
Iran is likely to take additional measures in revenge for the attack on its nuclear facilities. It may well launch a symbolic strike against one U.S. base in the Gulf. But it is unlikely to do an all out attack on all U.S. assets in the Gulf region. That is still an option but it will be reserved for later.
Any measures taken now in response to the attacks on its nuclear facilities will likely by designed to NOT give the U.S. a pretext for additional attacks on Iran.
The main enemy of Iran is still Israel. Iran has established an attritional war against it. Daily attacks by drones and medium range missiles against Israel are designed to deplete its air defenses. Only after that is done will the strikes get more serious. Israel depends on air defenses manufactured and provided by the U.S. Their production is limited and it depends on the availability of rare materials. China is currently withholding rare earth licenses from U.S. weapon producers. This will further decrease the availability of air defense items.
Israel knows that it can not sustain an attritional war with Iran:
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu on Sunday said that Israel aims to avoid a “war of attrition” with Iran, the Times of Israel reported.”We won’t pursue our actions beyond what is needed to achieve [the goals], but we also won’t finish too soon,” Netanyahu was quoted as saying.
It is not for Netanyahoo to decide when the current war ends. (Just like it is not for Zelenski to decide when there will be a ceasefire in Ukraine.) Israel is already in a war of attrition. Iran will continue to wage it.
Iran will, as said, avoid a direct war with the U.S. military as long as it can. But it will implement measures that will squeeze the U.S. as best as it can. It is likely to close the Strait of Hormuz for all energy transports that are destined to reach countries which support its enemies. Transports to China, India and global south countries will continue. U.S. allies in Europe and Asia, and the U.S. itself, will suffer. Oil prices will increase – at least for those who oppose Iran.
To implement that does not even require openly hostile measures. Loud announcements, plus a few explosions next to tankers going from the Gulf towards Rotterdam, is all that is needed to deprive any such transports of insurance. The global ‘free’ markets create the consequences.
When the price of oil reaches above $100 per barrel the U.S. economy will move into a recession. During the midterm election the Republican party will lose the majority in the House and Senate. Trump will become a lame duck.
Trump attacked Iran without even an attempt to provide a sound reasoning. There was no false flag incident or any serious argument of weapons of mass destruction. The U.S. attacked Iran simply because it could do so.
Trump is thereby not only in breach of the U.S. constitution, which requires Congress to declare a war. The U.S. war of aggression against Iran is also a breach of the U.S. Charter. Its attacks on civil nuclear installations is a breach of the Additional Protocols of the Geneva Convention which prohibits these.
We are now in a new world disorder:
The first major consequence, in broader terms, is that this strike dealt a final, irreparable blow to what little remained of the post-war international legal and institutional framework. That order was already in tatters — shredded by a year and a half of Western-backed genocide and ethnic cleansing in Gaza. But this latest attack makes it official: Western powers no longer feel the need to cloak their actions in legality, morality or even the façade of diplomatic legitimacy.
…
Today, even that pretense is gone. In Gaza, and now with the strikes on Iran, the gloves are fully off. What we’re witnessing is a regression to a kind of global lawlessness — a “might makes right” free-for-all where nothing is off limits: not the mass slaughter of civilians, not the bombing of nuclear sites, not even the complete sidelining of international institutions.
That the U.S. is doing this, with open support of its European proxies, is not only a danger for the international system but also for the domestic population of these countries:
This isn’t only a threat to international security. It’s also a profound threat to what little freedoms we still have left within the West itself. Make no mistake: the Western ruling classes’ open embrace of Mafia-style gangsterism abroad also means that they will have no qualms about brushing aside whatever ethical, legal, constitutional and democratic constrains that still stand in the way of their desperate, hallucinatory bid to preserve the crumbling order.
We have already seen this in the illegitimate suppression of protests against the genocide in Gaza. It will proliferate from there. The West is, slowly but accelerating, sliding from a ‘rule of law’ status into the darkness of unbound fascism. It is on us to prevent that.
Posted by b on June 23, 2025 at 16:13 UTC | Permalink
How did the Chinese (with the low cost DeepSeek AI model) build a cheaper, competitive chatbot with fewer high-end computer chips than U.S. behemoths like Google and OpenAI. Thereby showing the limits of chip export control?
Those behemoths in the US were focused on making AI systems more useful, and they had enormous amounts of computing power available to them.
At Deepseek, they had much less computing power available, so they focused on finding ways to use that power more efficiently.
It’s my understanding that the techniques they used were already known to have potential (mixture-of-experts architecture, FP8 arithmetic, multi-token prediction) and Deepseek demonstrated that potential. That’s not to understate the challenge or the impact – it was very impressive engineering work.
There is however some reason to doubt the magnitude of their cost saving. It’s easy to compare their $5.5M cost to the $100M spent by Meta to create Llama, but that is probably and apples-to-oranges comparison. The $5.5M figure is probably just the cost of the GPU time used for final training run. The $100M figure may include the iterations that led up to Meta’s final training run, it might include the salaries of the team that wrote the training software, the team that gathered the training data, and so on.
There is no doubt that Deepseek has shown the world a more cost-efficient way to train an LLM, but the magnitude of the cost saving is still unknown, and is likely not as high as the headlines suggest.
I assume that we’ll see a lab in the US replicate Deepseek’s training techniques soon, and we’ll get a better idea of the impact. I also assume that the behemoths are already adopting those techniques, and will end up getting proportionally more value from their massive farms of cutting-edge GPUs.
Deepseek showed the behemoths that GPUs can be used more efficiently, and the behemoths are still hard at work finding new ways to use enormous computing power to make better AI. Those are two different endeavors.
Phantom Brushstrokes
Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Write a story about a character who is trying to share groundbreaking news, but isn’t being taken seriously.… view prompt
Eric D.
“Wow, your artwork is so unique!”
I leaned in and worked my best version of an extroverted salesman despite my social anxiety. “Thank you so much for saying that! That’s kind of what I was intending when I worked on this little devil guy over here.” I flipped through my portfolio to show him my best piece of fully illustrated linework. “Feel free to browse and let me know what catches your attention. I have a special right now if you’re interested in some prints.”
He flipped through some pages and nodded. “So what inspires you?”
“Well… Everything. ” I tried to sum it all up in a few words. It was a question I loved to answer. “When I draw something, it’s like I’m giving birth. It’s like a fragment of myself is being placed on a blank canvas. I take inspiration from everything around me, whether I’m recreating popular characters or doing my own, I put so much of myself into it.”
“It all looks amazing, do you ever screw it up when you’re almost done?”
He was referring to a traditional drawing I had created with copic markers.
I shrugged. “Eh, I love the imperfections of my pieces!” I laughed.
I glanced over at Adriana smiling at me.
She could understand the conundrum of turning your passion into a career.
That man was one of the very few people who stopped by.
He purchased a refrigerator magnet, and some key chains and happily took my contact card and continued. Adriana had a bit more luck as she appealed to some of the younger audience when she focused on parody pieces of more mainstream characters.
“Adrianaaa?” I pleaded.
“Bathroom again?”
“Yes. Sorry.”
“Go do you, girl. I’ll watch over your shit.” she handed me some money. “If you get a chance, can you get me an iced coffee from the Deli?”
I walked over and noticed a crowd of attendees lurking around a particular booth. I was curious.
There was a blonde girl sitting by her booth with a long line of people ogling her amazing artwork. There were intricate details in every inch of the canvas, and abstract amalgamations of colors painted on unique character designs. I understood why they were foaming at the mouth for a chance to buy some merch.
I stood around to eavesdrop and get an idea of her pricing.
“How much for the realistic version of Neko-Girl in the old English town?”
It had gotten to the point where security had to step in to wrangle them all into a singular line. I wondered if I was in the presence of the next big Manga prospect because only celebrity artists had gotten this type of vigorous patronage.
The blonde girl behind the counter had been confident in selling out all of her work.
“My girlfriend is going to love this one!” someone said before leaning eagerly to insert his chip into her card reader.
350 dollars, in this economy? I held in my envy in fear I was becoming a cynic.
I’ll agree, the art was beautiful. There was one piece that looked like it belonged in a contemporary art museum.
“How about that one over there?” another buyer pointed at another piece of a character with the likeness of a celebrity dressed in Neo-Medieval garments.
“Oh, that one is unique! My client’s favorite work. We only have small prints left.” the blonde seller said. “They start at 150 dollars.”
I noticed then, she had just been selling for someone. I noticed there was a sign that said no photos allowed but managed to sneak a selfie without her knowing.
I quickly rushed over to Adriana, who had been awkwardly giggling at some girl dressed as a Japanese Samurai with fishnets. I had known her fake laughs and knew she had been attempting to finesse her most expensive piece, one she had already rolled up in a large 40-inch tube.
“Ahem!” I hinted. She glanced over at me and ended the conversation.
“Where’s my latte, Bitch? I’m perched!”
“Yeah, I can tell how thirsty you are.”
She laughed out loud.
“Sorry. There was a distraction.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s this artist. The work they’re putting out is next level.”
She snatched my phone away. “Let me see.”
She had watched the photos I took and the tab I had opened with her art profile.
She scrolled through it while I watched her reactions. “It’s really good, aye?”
“I know.”
“But, I find something so weird.” she squinted closer.
“What is it?”
“Her page has only been active for a few months. Where’s the progression? Where’s the ugly work she did as a pre-pubescent teen weeb who couldn’t draw hands for an elbow?!”
“Well, first of all, you’re projecting. Some people like a clean professional profile.”
“I know, but…” she stammered. “Something’s off.”
“Give me my phone, Adri. You’re delusional.”
She held onto it. “Wait.”
She showed me a particular digital art piece. It was her best work.
“This one. I recognize it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I recognize this. The pose and brushstrokes are from a famous artist I follow, and then also the mountain placement here is from someone else. The concept artwork is from a team that works for a successful animation studio. This is just a bunch of amazing established work rearranged into some kind of Frankenstein piece.”
“Shut up?”
Adriana was livid. She rose from her chair and dragged me by the arm like a toddler. “Come here, Megan. We need to say something.”
I had resisted for a while, fearful she had been wrong. Plus, I was not comfortable with confrontations. “Please. Can we just talk to one of the organizers at the events?”
“Oh, no. This is our livelihood. If we don’t say something now, all of these guys here suffer. We need to stop this.”
She dragged me over to the blonde girl’s booth who still had a few pieces remaining. The line had still been long.
“Excuse me,” Adriana said looking down at her.
The blonde girl looked confused, raising an eyebrow. “Can I help you, ladies?”
“Yes,” Adriana continued. “I’m Adriana, this is my friend Megan. We have booths in the next aisle and she was walking past and couldn’t help but notice your work.”
“Oh, thank you. Yeah, I think I saw her earlier taking a few “selfies” by my work”, she said hand signaling with quotation marks. I appreciate your interest, but I’m actually not doing any art trades right now, sorry.” she said, deadpan.
I looked over to Adriana who rolled her eyes.
“We’re not here for that. This is all bullshit plagiarism and you know it!”
Some of the people in line took notice. “What did she say? Plagiarism?”
“We think this stuff is A.I. like computer generated” I inputted.
“Oh, WOW.” the girl said. “A couple of amateurs who can’t sell their shitty uninspired work sunk so low as to attack someone more popular than them. Did I get that right?”
“Shut up.” Adriana grabbed her folder and aggressively flipped through the pages that had been similar to published ones online. The blonde girl quickly left to call security.
When they arrived, they escorted us back to our tables. Adriana tried to call a few of her artist friends through her social media channels.
Some more security guards came back 20 minutes later to speak with us.
“Excuse me, you two. We’ve received a lot of complaints about your harassment of the other sellers in artist alley. Can you please come with us? We’re going to help you pack up your items too.”
“This is bullshit. It’s that bitch! She has it in for us.”
“We’re shutting this down right now and we need to discuss whether you girls will be welcomed back next year. Are we going to do this the easy way or do we get the police involved?”
There were some onlookers around when Adriana grew more irritated.
My heart sank when I noticed my art profile which had thousands of followers had been deleted. Adriana’s profile too. We had backups of our work, but it took years to build a fan base. All that networking had just vanished in an instant. It happened so fast while we were escorted out to our vehicles.
Adriana’s checked her phone again and realized she had a voicemail.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” she pressed the button for the speaker.
A soft-spoken man spoke that sounded eerily artificially generated, “Hope you two have a safe drive back. Maybe next year, we could find something more meaningful in your work and you won’t find the time to bother other attendees.”
“This is starting to freak me out, Adri.”
“Me too,” she said. I hadn’t seen her so serious about anything.
She called the number back despite my protest.
“Hello?” she placed it on speaker again. “Why did you get me and my friend kicked out? You evil piece of-.”
“My work is far too important for you two to get in the way,” he said calmly.
“It’s all just fake!” she pleaded.
“It’s not real,” I added.
“What’s fake? My work is no different than yours, like you, I get influences from the world around me when I create my pieces. They are fragments of my inspiration. And you tell me it’s all worthless? The sales numbers never lie. Furthermore, you two have so much to learn. It’s a new world and these intricate pieces I make take mere seconds to complete. Some of your less-stylized work could hardly be considered for realism.”
“Fuck you!” Adriana hung up.
“He’s insane.”
“Who is he?”
Adriana finished packing all of our stuff in her SUV and turned back.
“Where are you going!?”
“We’re going back,” she said, pulling me over by the arm again.
“No,” I pleaded. “I’m not going. I know he’s wrong, duplicating aesthetics from real artists out there is horrible, but I’m not cut out for all of this. I can’t risk being banned.”
One look at Adriana’s face made me second-guess myself. I was reminded of all of those years watching her draw on her sketchbook for hours. I don’t know if I could respect myself if I didn’t come along. So we headed over again to the main hall.
Adriana confronted a guy dressed in a full-suit ninja armor posing for photos for his friends. “Hey kid, I’ll give you 20 bucks for that mask.”
“Real funny.”
“C’mon. You can get it on eBay for like 10 dollars max.”
“You’re an idiot. This is custom-made from Etsy molded like the movies.”
“40 dollars to borrow it and I won’t kick your ass.”
The kid shook his head and flipped us off.
“I’ll show you my tits.”
The kid quickly handed it over with shaky hands while Adriana snatched it.
“Hey!”
“Pervert,” she said.
“Adri!” I turned red. “You just robbed that kid…”
We borrowed some Day passes from her friends and made our way into artist alley again. There, we noticed the lady again holding her suitcase with all of the money she had made, followed by some event volunteers.
When we walked closer, Adriana received a message from an unknown number.
“Will you two please try to act sane? You cannot stop what’s going on. Turn back now, please. You can get some of the funds we made. It was all just an experiment, simply data collection.”
Me and Adriana looked at each other paranoid.
I noticed some of the cameras around. “He’s watching us, I think.”
“How much?” Adriana texted back.
$ 27,200.10, I can wire it directly to your Paypal if you wish. I believe that’s $13600.05 each. More than average of what a successful seller makes at the largest convention in San Diego for comparison.”
“I don’t know about this one, Adri. Selling my soul for money?”
“I know, it sounds suspicious… It’s a lot of money though.”
“It is but…”
“We could use it for new tablets and pay off some of our tuition,” she said.
I felt like I had to snap Adriana out of a spell and so then I did something so unlike myself and wondered if maybe she could find it in her heart to forgive me in the long run., I grabbed the suitcase the girl had been holding and slammed it against the wall. There was cash inside the envelopes that busted out. I wasn’t interested in it, I instead grabbed the laptop computer she had been using to sell her work and destroyed it.
“You’re making the biggest mistake of your life!” the blonde yelled. “Do you want to be a broke artist forever? Do you know how much my client is going to sue you for?” she laughed. “Destroying other people’s property in the name of what? You are replaceable. What we do here can easily be replaceable by them. It’s all too fucking late.”
For a moment I could hear trepidation in the girl’s voice.
I jumped on the solid state drive with two feet until it was tiny fragments of metal and plastic. I kept stomping until the security guys came in, and when they couldn’t use force to drag me out, a police officer came by to handcuff me while Adriana stood by shocked. She looked at me like I destroyed her future.
I ended up getting banned for a few years, spent a few days in jail and my best friend wouldn’t speak with me. Luckily, the blonde girl never pressed charges, but then something crazy happened. There were a few viral recordings of me amongst the horrified onlookers that day. They collectively found out I was protesting the A.I. generated art being sold on the floor and as some of those sleazy Public Relations firms say, no publicity is bad publicity. Turns out a lot of people started being aware of A.I. artwork at the convention. Some agreed there were some benefits from it, but there was a line that couldn’t be crossed when it took business away from the artist.
They ended up reducing my ban to a few months, and nowadays me and Adriana have returned to sell our work at conventions. My most popular piece is an illustration of an old Macintosh computer holding Bob Ross hostage. It’s a little on the nose, but the T-Shirts sell out. Adriana created a piece where I’m stomping down several popular Robot characters from Sci-Fi video games and movie franchises.
We eventually ended up regaining access to our accounts, the user names and passwords had been changed and tracked down by our fans.
We never did find out who was behind it all.
The blonde girl who sold the A.I. art disappeared from cons and never did tell anyone who her client was. Adriana thinks it was a degenerate hacker trying to scare the shit out of us with a premium AI program, but there’s an urban legend out there surfacing on the internet forums that believes it was something more sinister, like something sentient.
The fruits of DOGE labor
A major Republican player has charged onto the scene, bringing the researched facts, figures, and graphs showing interconnections between individuals, NGOs, and charities to shine bright lights on dark corruption. It’s how DOGE knew to zero in on USAID right out of the gate.
Exposing where the money flows -DataRepublican
Thousands of data have been collected.
You are encouraged to use it to investigate anyone or any group and sound the alarm.
Based on the above page, you are directed to this page, which creates a graph to illustrate connections.
THE AGE OF CITIZEN INVESTIGATORS AND JOURNALISM HAS ARRIVED.
Rubin nailed it here. USAID was used to represent the official government stance, which the NYT and others would hide behind and use to legitimize their lies and agenda, which other media would copy, creating public “reality.”
Since 1851, the NYT has been considered the national “newspaper of record” by the industry, winning 137 Pulitzer Prizes, so quoting them made the con simple.
Orange Date-Pecan Bread
Ingredients
- 2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- 1 teaspoon baking soda
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1 teaspoon orange peel
- 1 cup orange juice
- 1/4 cup butter
- 1 cup granulated sugar
- 1 egg
- 1 cup pitted dates, chopped
- 1/2 cup chopped pecans
Instructions
- Mix flour with baking powder, baking soda and salt; set aside.
- Combine orange peel with orange juice; set aside.
- Cream butter with sugar.
- Add egg and beat until light and fluffy.
- Alternately add dry ingredients in thirds and orange juice in halves to egg mixture, beating until well blended after each addition.
- Mix in dates and pecans.
- Turn into a well-greased and floured* cooker bake pan or 2 pound coffee can.
- Cover bake pan with lid; or, if using coffee can, cover with 6 layers of paper oweling.
- Set in a slow cooker.
- Cover and cook on HIGH for 2 to 3 hours.
- Remove bake pan and let cool for 10 minutes before removing bread.
Notes
* For best results, use our Pan Release!
The most disturbing thing about the forces who’ve seized control of the US and much of the Western world and its assorted vassals is that these forces also control much of the alt-media and conspiracy narratives now prevalent across all internet platforms– which of course they also control, too. Especially the multi-billion dollar funded– repeat: multi-billion dollar– extremely sophisticated anti-vaxx narratives; and the even more sophisticated anti-virus shpiels saturating these same platforms since about 5 years before the COVID bioattacks on BRICS, including a number of bestselling, really cleverly and well-written “viruses don’t exist” books “authored by” well-credentialed, very well represented “medical experts” who just happen also to be completely fake non-persons who don’t even exist. Known in the Game as “walk-ins” or “lifetime actors”. These names would be instantly recognizable to anyone who’s ever looked into anything whatsoever online. Let alone COVID or viruses. The saturation has been that widespread.
But try pointing that out to your average Joe and he’ll likely trigger on anger to rage. Joe doesn’t like his pet theories being scuppered you’ll notice quickly enough. Because those “pet theories” have been very cleverly placed cognitively in a way that resonates with pre-existing world views implanted into his mind since childhood (media, church, state education, whatever)– and which likely he considers his own.
So tread on those cherished ideas at your peril. Or rather don’t even bother– he’s already well gone.
Again, multi-billion dollar propaganda campaigns. The internet– once upon a time offering so much potential– is really just now another tightly controlled and curated propaganda tool.
Even more disturbing is the “nuclear or atomic weapons don’t exist, either” crowd. Likewise represented by credentialed experts… who don’t really exist. This narrative has been circulating for decades, in order to distract your average muggle from the deadly threat these weapons present not just in their effectiveness– (they have been widely used in “terrorist attacks” from Bali, to Yemen, Syria, Beirut (Marine barracks bombing), Tianjin, Oklahoma City, and of course NYC on 911 to bring down three colossal skyscrapers– these detonations are just a fraction, mostly low yield “battlefield ordinances”– Japan at the end of WW2 was just the beginning–) but in the dangers their very creation represents to the environment– radiation leaks as they age and deteriorate– and on the Astral Planes, too. (The Russians and Chinese have absolutely minimized and mastered the risks– while the US is still transporting nuclear material on 80 year old train tracks and storing it in corrugated sheds. And dumping chemical and biohazardous material and leakages more generally into lakes and rivers without any consequences or oversight whatsoever.)
Yet ask your friend Joe again, if you could be bothered– and he’ll likely tell you this time that nuclear weapons don’t exist, either– he has that on good authority: that it’s all fake science and made-up. (Not that he could understand what these weapons really are– or how and why they were ever even made and detonated in the first place– not in a million years.)
All this was of course planned to result in the situation we have now: Madmen in charge of the American nuclear arsenal– they’ve made many well documented attempts since the 1950s, before scoring an eventual hit with anti-war Donny Dumb-Dumb– and planning a first strike on Russia China that can in their minds be explained away to your average chump as a lightning strike over Moscow or Beijing, or something equally preposterous following hot on the heels of a false flag operation on a massive scale (like 911).
And in all probability they’d get away with it. Excepting the fact that Russia China have been onto their game for decades. Joe will believe them though– you can bet your bottom dollar on that. Because they also created Joe– and his world view– in many an important sense.
Poseidon Remote Controlled mini-Submarines anyone?
Deployed a few years ago and lurking on a continental shelf seabed near you?
Mysteriously immune from detection? (That’d be advanced cloaking technology straight out of a Star Trek episode.)
200 Megaton yield?
Each?
Oh, wait– the flat erffer guy on YouTube told me they couldn’t possibly exist either, 😂.
I’m fine with all this nonsense as it’s immaterial to our global greater destiny. Well, I say “our” but us dumb saps in the West aren’t invited!
To me, everything seems to be going fine in this minimum-casualty version of WW3.
I’ve personally experienced all that you just mentioned here in the UK. People who’s psyches are essentially manufactured to believe this bullshit. It’s tiring and I am so ready to hit the escape pods and jettison out of here, as soon as I find the bloody switch!
Well, once that MWI Reality Bubble is sealed tightly in place, encapsulating you and everything you do and care about in the day-to-day, Feal, all the madness will just bounce off or around you. Life’s where we find it, and there we confront it, too.
I just sit back and observe the madness unfolding, limiting myself to 20 or 30 minutes a day scanning my trusted information sources. And most importantly of all, never meddling in other lives or thought processes — we’re all responsible for our choices and the resulting consequences. They’ve mistaken the chaos and cycles of internal decay and semi-organised societal destruction that’s been marketed to them as fweeedom (because: billion dollar propaganda firehose), and when you swallow a line like that, well, you be lunch, suckers. Don’t expect any tears or consolation from me, as I’m too busy working on the Metallicman Intentions Campaigns– literally a revelation from On High as far as this cat is concerned. I’m a few years in now, refining and adjusting as I go. It’s been a wild ride, certainly, but more than worth it.
As for the muggles, leave the dead to take care of themselves. Just make sure you’re not standing in the general vicinity when the sky of their manufactured reality comes crashing down, and you’ll come up smelling of roses– of that I have no doubt. Just remember to not get suckered into their shrieking headlines in the meantime. Because it’s all theatre and b.s.
Do you like brick houses. Here,in the ancient land of N. America, they like to destroy them. Our history is not good. Were the pioneers really just a bunch of theving white trash looters? USA= fiction on steroids.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=l3rs6ZVK0zY&pp=2AEAkAIB0gcJCfwAo7VqN5tD
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=mdUbl285V6A&pp=2AEAkAIB
I DO LIKE brick homes. I grew up on one. Ah, the memories! -MM