It was Summer. I had gotten back from my freshman year at university, and I was working in the grocery store.
Pretty much, for one reason or the other, it was basically myself and my mother and the other kids had their own lives in one form or the other.
I’m sleeping and I hear a scream and wake up immediately. I sit up and look around, but I hear nothing… and then nothing.
So I go back to sleep.
As I get up to go to work, I stop in at my mother’s bedroom to check on her. Surprisingly she wasn’t up, and she mumbled something to me, so I went to work, and didn’t think anything about it.
About two hours later the ambulance speeds by the store, and over the East Brady bridge.
And I get a phone call from the hospital.
Turns out that late in the night, my mother had to go to the bathroom. Opened the wrong door (instead of the bathroom door, she opened the basement door). And so she took a step forward and tumbled down the staircase and hit her head on a protruding pipe embedded in the cement floor.
She lay there for hours and then somehow crawled into bed.
And that is where I found her int he morning.
She was fine, but had to spend a week in the hospital and ended up having a bandaged head.
Oh, for certain, she eventually got well and lived a full life. But here is my story; a snapshot in time. When my mother hit her head and almost died.
And I was sound asleep in my bed unaware as to what was going on downstairs to me.
Sigh.
Today…
What’s the saddest scene you’ve seen in a restaurant?
It was a Saturday night. We were at a famous rooftop restaurant. It was very crowded. As we were standing, waiting for a seat, a young man came and asked for a table for a group of ten people. As his name was being written down by the waiter, he happily informed the boy:
“Today is my birthday. I’m throwing a party with my friends.” Her innocent enthusiasm made me smile.
They gave him a table, since there was a very large one free. I continued to wait with my family for a while longer. After about ten minutes we went in. I saw the man sitting alone at the table next to us. For about an hour, he continued to make calls and send messages. As the evening went on, he seemed more and more abandoned. No one showed up to join him at his table. The waiters kept asking him if he had any news, and each time he muttered an excuse.
Eventually he had to leave that table and sat down at a smaller table.
He was still alone. For a long time, he sat there, all alone. Then he got up and left the restaurant. Before we knew it, he was lost in the crowd.
Had he been abandoned by his friends? Had no one seen fit to show up for his birthday dinner? I was just trying to imagine the reasons for the sad scene I had witnessed. His previous exuberance had been lost as the evening wore on. How insensitive can people be? At least they could have informed him in advance!
I wish I had wished him a happy birthday before he left the place.
There were hundreds of people in that restaurant that night.
But one soul stood alone in the crowd, waiting for people to join him.
It was sad, and words can’t describe it.
He Said We’re Done If I Do It Again
What is an “Only in Japan” moment?
Once I visited Japan for work purpose. I was provided with a localite – Naoko who knew both the languages(English and Japanese) and he picked me at the airport. He was so nice and humble and we became instant friends.
We chatted a lot and exchanged thoughts about our countries. I was always curious about the ninjas and wanted to know if they still existed. He was so kind that he promised to show me the ninja museum after I finish my work even though it wasn’t part of his job.
As soon as I finished my work, I was so excited and I called him. He was happy to receive my call and he asked me to come to the NINJA MUSEUM OF IGARYU. I googled the address took a cab and arrived at the destination.
I called him on his phone but the kept on ringing but no one received. I waited for him like almost an hour and called again and again and after a few calls the phone got switched off. I started feeling betrayed as he literally promised he would take me.
After a few minutes I lost hope and I thought I would go see the museum on my own. To my surprise I heard someone screaming my name and running towards me. At first I thought it was him but actually it was his brother. His brother Nobikov introduced himself and explained that Naoko has met with a minor accident and he couldn’t come because of it. He also said that Naoko personally insisted his own brother to go and keep me company as he said that he had made a promise.
Hearing this I felt the most sane feelings I’ve ever had. I also enquired if Naoko was okay and he said that it was a hairline fracture in his legs. I quickly visited the museum and went to the hospital to see him. I saw the same happy humble person I met in the airport.
This is what I really like about Japan and the Japanese.
Dr Pepper Texas Chocolate Cake
Yield: 12 servings
Ingredients
Cake
- 2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
- 1 cup granulated sugar
- 1 cup dark brown sugar
- 1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
- 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
- 1 cup Dr Pepper
- 1/2 cup chocolate chips
- 2 large eggs
- 1 cup buttermilk
- 1 cup vegetable oil
- 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Frosting
- 3/4 cup butter-flavored vegetable shortening
- 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
- 4 cups sifted confectioners’ sugar
- 1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
- 1/4 cup Dr Pepper
- 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Instructions
- Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease and flour two 9 inch round cake pans, tapping out any extra flour.
Cake
- Sift together flour, granulated sugar, brown sugar, cocoa and baking soda into a bowl and set aside.
- Pour the Dr Pepper into a saucepan and add the chocolate chips. Heat over low heat, stirring often, until the chips are just melted. Remove from heat and set aside.
- Combine eggs, buttermilk, oil and vanilla extract in a mixer bowl and mix on medium speed until combined, about 2 minutes.
- With the mixer running, slowly pour in the Dr Pepper-chocolate mixture and continue beating until combined, about 1 minute.
- With mixer on low, gradually add the dry ingredients. Increase speed to medium and beat 2 minutes more.
- Divide the batter between the twp pans.
- Bake for 30 to 35 minutes or until a wooden pick inserted into the center comes out clean.
- Cool the layers in the pan for 10 minutes, then run a knife around the edges and flip the pans over onto a cooling rack. Gently lift off the pans and let the cake layers cool completely.
Frosting
- Beat shortening and butter in a mixer bowl until soft and fluffy.
- Add the confectioners’ sugar and cocoa, and continue mixing until combined.
- Stir together the Dr Pepper and vanilla extract and very slowly pour it into the frosting, beating with mixer on high speed to thin it a bit. Continue beating until light and fluffy, about 1 minute.
- Set first layer, top down, on a flat plate. Spread 1 cup of the frosting on top.
- Top with the second cake layer and spread remaining frosting on the top and sides of the cake, making attractive swirls.
With billions (+) population housing failure, how can China afford upgrading their military arsenal to be a world power? Is China putting out lies/false on their economy growth?
China’s military spending is less than 1.5% of GDP. One of the lowest in the world.
China’s GDP growth is 5%. One of the highest in the world. Take note that we are talking about real growth, that is, nominal growth adjusted for inflation.
China is already a world power. It cannot be defeated in its domain, and it has enough power of reprisal in any situation to have the confident to denounce the use of first strike. It has no ambition for foreign adventures.
China’s housing crisis is self-triggered to avoid a bubble. It has been 4 years. The liquidity problems of the developers are being resolved. Those that cannot be saved have gone bankrupt. Those which are on the margin will have to settle with their lenders, no government bailout. Their properties have been garnered to protect the homebuyers. It will take several more years to resolution. Meanwhile, the drag on the economy is easing.
China’s home ownership is over 90%. One of the highest in the world.
No More Elephants in the Zoo
Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.… view prompt
Michał Przywara
The man jotted something down. “Good, good. Glad to hear it. My name’s Dennis, by the way.”
Her fingers trembled, reaching towards his outstretched hand, but when their skins touched – when she felt the impossible warmth of another living human again – she grasped him tightly, for fear of him disappearing. A nervous hitch, half giggle, half cry, escaped her.
“It’s all right,” Dennis said, tone softer. “It’s a lot to take in, I know. You don’t feel any lingering numbness? There’s a gentle sedative still in your system. It’ll be hours before it wears off entirely.”
“No. No, it’s like… Actually, I’ve never felt better.” She ran her fingers over her temples, over her jaw. Gently touched the tender bald area where they’d sawed off a part of her skull in the myriad failed surgeries – and shivered when she felt hair. Short, supple, but definitely hair.
“Is the cancer gone?”
Dennis straightened and smiled more broadly. “It feels good to be alive, doesn’t it?” Only, the smile hinted at a sadness, or maybe a dread of things to come. “We must assume the cancer’s gone, yes.”
“Assume? Aren’t you a doctor?”
“No, I’m not.” His breath was measured. “I’m a fellow patient.”
“So they figured it out after all.” She snorted, what might have been a chuckle. Shouldn’t she be happy? Perhaps it was the sedative. Or shock, at coming back to life.
Anita decided to risk standing. She braced herself against the armrests of the recliner and carefully rose – only to discover she had no trouble whatsoever. “They really figured it out.” No weak muscles, no shaky legs, no dizziness. She spun her arms, touched her toes, lunged, jumped. Her heart fluttered and she felt warm.
“So,” she said. “Where is the doctor then?”
Dennis glanced out the window, at rain splattering with a low drum. “A lot has changed, Anita.”
“A lot has…” She let the question trail, narrowed her eyes. “How long was I out for?”
“Come on, let’s go chat in the cafeteria.” He ushered her out of the lobbyish room, which didn’t remind her of the cryonics institute at all. “You mentioned a name when you were coming to. Molly. Is she someone special?”
The warmth in her chest spread to Anita’s cheeks, and she felt herself reaching for a smile. When was the last time she truly smiled? It must have been Molly’s seventh. All her friends did the princess thing, but Molly wanted elephants.
“Real elephants, Mom! Not cartoons.”
They plastered all the walls with elephant posters, and went to the zoo – which was happy, to see them, and sad, to see them imprisoned, and Molly vowed to free all elephants – “No more elephants in the zoo!” – and then when the cake arrived – goodness! Grey was not a good colour for food, but Molly loved it.
Anita hugged herself, imagining holding Molly again. “She’s my daughter. She’s the reason I’m here.” That smile pushed against the sedative. “She was right. And I’m going to get to see her again.”
She stopped abruptly at the cafeteria entrance, glossed right over the size and decorations. Nearly jumped when she saw glowing blue words appear suspended in the air.
13:13. Currently: Free roam. Next at 15:00: Communal welcoming in Hall 17.
“What the hell is that!?”
“It’s a holoserver,” said Dennis. “Only I disabled the ads and retooled it to show our… well, no need for ads, I’m sure you’ll agree. Why – did you not have these, back when?”
“Words floating in the air?” She stepped a little closer to the mystery, fingers creeping. “Can I touch it?”
“Yes, yes, perfectly safe.”
The letters distorted where her finger prodded, but that was it. No cold, no heat, nothing fuzzy. No sensation at all. She withdrew her hand, frowned.
“We didn’t have these, no. Our ads were in print. On TV. On the internet, I guess.”
“Teavey?”
“Television. A box with sound and pictures. And idiots.” Anita shivered. All the warmth she had felt before faded, replaced by a cold deep in her gut. “Dennis – how long have I been frozen?” He looked at the floor. “What year is it?”
Dennis hesitated.
She grabbed his coat and pulled him close. “Tell me!”
“Anita, please, calm down–”
“–What. Year. Is. It.”
“We don’t know.” He guided her to one of the empty tables when she let go of him. “Please, sit.” A polished vending machine produced two steaming cups of something like tea, and he set them on the table.
“How can you not know what year it is?”
“A lot has happened while we were in stasis.” He took a sip and frowned into the distance, walking down a road that never got easier. “I went under in 2101.”
Anita’s eyes widened.
“You were what,” he continued, “early 2000s? The youngest patient – chronologically, not biologically – was suspended in 2248.”
He took another sip. “You might be wondering why you don’t find this more shocking. When the sedative wears off, you will, and we’ll be here for you when you do.”
“And we are the other patients?”
Dennis nodded. “To the best of our knowledge, the year is somewhere in the mid to late 3000s. You’re wondering why we don’t just ask someone, right? Like the doctors or other staff?”
Anita nodded.
Dennis drew himself up, preparing for a particularly challenging sprint. “In short, we can’t. Something… some thing, happened. To the world. To humans. While we slept. We don’t know if it was war, or disease, or what, but.” His throat hitched and he took another sip. “Everyone’s gone. We’re the only ones that are left.”
They sat in silence for a while. Anita felt her heart run maybe a beat or two faster, followed by a dull disappointment that there wasn’t a panic. Rationally, it crossed her mind she’d not see Molly again after all. Never see her again. Shouldn’t that be crushing? It ought to be, damn it.
“Wait,” she said. “If everyone’s dead, who brought us back?”
Dennis nodded, expecting this.
“We’re not alone.”
None of it really sunk in until that evening. She heard the words, they lingered in her now-healthy brain, but they didn’t register until the lights went out. Meeting the others – hundreds of patients, a small town – at the communal welcome in Hall 17 was a blur, a parade of time traveling strangers. And the talk of the aliens that roused them? Incomprehensible.
She started screaming at midnight. As Dennis said, the others were there for her, whether she wanted them or not. They made a human straight jacket, smothered her with shared experience, a common circumstance. Kept her from doing the regrettable thing she yearned to do.
Because what was the point of living in a world where Earth no longer belonged to Man? What was the point of a life without Molly?
“Can I see them?” she asked Dennis a couple weeks later. More than anything else, the idea of aliens felt unreal.
“In time, yes. They are uncomfortable to get used to, and there are biological precautions we must take.”
“They talk to you?”
“In a sense. They have an amazing grasp of our technology, and they’ve been able to communicate via our computers. I don’t know if they actually talk, per se. And… they are hard to understand. There’s little common ground between us. Culturally speaking, that kind of thing. I get the sense they’ve gone to great lengths to understand us.”
“Why are they here?”
“Far as I can tell, just for living. From their point of view, they’ve settled an unoccupied world.”
“And why,” Anita asked, “did they wake us?”
It was another one of those questions where Dennis hesitated. “To see if they could. To preserve the native fauna of their new home. Our de-extinction is of scientific interest to them.”
She was allowed to walk around the tower – for the whole facility was its own skyscraper – freely, but never alone. Never out of sight. No matter how many times she told them she was fine over the first few months, that she’d adjusted and wouldn’t do anything, there’d still always be one or two humans in eyeshot.
They saw through her lies.
It came as a shock to her the first time she saw children. Three of them, about the same age as Molly had been. Shrieking, barreling down the hall, absorbed in a running game. Then came a profound sadness that such tiny, young people had been afflicted with this fate. Cursed with an incurable condition, frozen, and thrust into a future that didn’t make sense, a future without a future.
“But they’re not patients,” said Renee, one of her constant companions. In better circumstances Anita would have called her a friend. In a different world, in a different time. If they hadn’t been born two centuries apart.
Renee smiled. “Those kids are real. More real than you and me. They were born here-and-now.”
Ambivalence. Vague dread. Anita’s other constant companions. “So the aliens are breeding us.”
Renee, too, hesitated. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it. I won’t lie, procreation is encouraged. And yeah, it did make my skin crawl. Still does. But those little rascals? They don’t care. This isn’t weird for them and they didn’t come here with baggage. Didn’t lose anything in the past. They’re just kids, having the times of their lives.”
She was allowed to walk around the tower, but not outside. Never seemed to stop raining there. Dennis said it wasn’t exactly rain, that there were things in the air that were no longer friendly to humans. Things that evolved without us, passed us by. No walking outside the tower without an environmentally sealed suit, anyway.
“Can I have one?”
“In time,” Dennis said. Because he knew. “We all went through it. It’s hard adjusting to this new world of ours.”
“I’m fine.” Of course, she didn’t really need the suit for what she was planning.
She took to watching the rain from the ground floor. Casually, she placed her hands on the windows one day. Nothing odd about that. Then another day, casually she placed her hands on the door. Still very normal, just a woman lost in thought. Then the next day, she did the same and pushed just a bit. Just until the door gave a little.
Not locked.
Anita smiled, and began preparing for the end. She picked a day the next week. A day everyone decided was Monday. Nobody knew if their new calendar lined up with pre-extinction, but there was something comforting about having regular Mondays. She was pleasant to everyone, played with the kids, embraced the community. And let go. It wasn’t a terrible place, but it just wasn’t for her. Her time had come and gone.
She never saw the aliens, which was a regret. The idea both enthralled and repulsed her, and still seemed unreal. Ah, but life was all about accepting the nevers and moving on.
Finally her day came. Good luck, with Renee being her chaperone. “I could sure go for a coffee,” Anita said, her hands on the door. “Would you mind?”
“Could go for one myself.” Renee left to fetch them, because she trusted Anita. That was an unexpected barb in the heart. But no matter, this had to be done.
And as luck often does, good turned to bad when Dennis came down the stairwell. “Anita! Guess what?”
She closed her eyes and swore under her breath. “What?”
“I found a TV!” Anita glared at him. “Well, I think I did, anyway. There’s a good chance it’s not an original. You know, they constantly tinker with our tech, taking it apart and reproducing it. I think they maintained this building for us, and all the food and whatnot. Doesn’t seem like it would survive thousands of years without help otherwise. Our caretakers.”
She sighed. This Monday was looking to be a real Monday.
Dennis placed something in her hand. A small, flat bit of plastic, looking like a narrow thumb drive.
“What’s this?” she asked. There was a strip of masking tape on it, and in faded pen, “33875 ANITA CABLE”.
“A Q12 drive, I believe. Maybe a Q14? A mid twenty-first century storage medium, anyway.” He grinned. “Often, people recorded messages for their loved ones. For when they woke up. Most of them are holos, but for this older tech, well, it took me a while to track down a way to play it back.”
“Messages?” Her eyes widened. “Wait, you mean – this is for me?” Cold arced along her nerves.
“Would you like to watch it?”
They sat down in one of the myriad empty rooms in the tower, where Dennis had set up a giant, flat monitor. He slipped the drive in the bottom and dimmed the lights. Renee meanwhile joined up with them, bringing the promised coffee.
“Would you like us to go?” Dennis asked.
Anita looked between the two, found her throat dry. “Stay. Please.” The butterflies in her gut roiled.
Dennis hit play.
A mahogany office appeared, bookshelves for walls, a heavy desk, a woman sitting behind it. Her hair, a tight white bun, and her eyes, yellowed, and her skin, scarred by time.
“Hello, Anita.” There was gravel in her voice. “You probably don’t recognize my face, but we used to live together. It’s me, Molly. Hello, Mom.”
Anita clamped her hand over her mouth, but she’d lost all her words anyway.
“Only I’m not Molly Cable any more. It’s Carson now, and it was Gaines for a while too. A lot has happened.”
Anita’s eyes bleared.
“I wish I could tell you in person, but, ah, well. Life doesn’t work that way. I never stopped thinking about you though, and I never stopped hoping. And now, well, I still hope they bring you back one day, and we can catch up. Like this, at least.”
Anita nodded along, and when Renee offered her a handkerchief, she took it.
“I don’t know where to start, to be honest. Feels like I have eighty odd years to cover.” Molly chuckled. “Hope you don’t mind, but I recorded a lot of footage. The cryo people were very accommodating. Frankly, it’s helping me remember my own life, which is nice, as the old memory isn’t what it used to be.” She sighed. “I never did save all the elephants, but I did work with them for five-odd decades. Well, time enough for that later. Hey, I’m not alone here – do you want to meet your grandkids?”
Anita nodded, and dabbed away another tear.
“I’ve a feeling you said yes. Good, good. Well, I hope you have some time, Ma, ’cause the family’s grown quite big.”
“All the time in the world, baby,” Anita said. And all thoughts of Mondays left her mind, as she met those who came after her, and those who went before.
What would be the impact on China’s shipbuilding dominance if the US were to invest “full speed ahead” in its maritime industrial base?
Little.
Somewhere hidden in the “Rest of world” category, is the US ship building capacity, in the range of the world’s 6th to 10th in ranking, different by the year.
The US ship-building industry is reported to be sitting at around 0.2–0.5% of China’s.
In plain English, if the US builds one super carrier, in the same time frame China can build 200, if it chooses to.
The US needs to “full speed ahead” for quite some years before China takes notice.
EDIT:
Just read from another fellow Quora and the situation of US shipping by the 2024 data seems more helpless than even I had imagined.
Shorpy
Do fighter pilots typically become commercial airline pilots once they leave the military? I know the money is good, but that seems like it’d be like going from driving in NASCAR, to driving for Uber.
In the military you only get to fly for about 12 years. Once you become a senior 0–4 and then a O-5 there are limited flying slots. So with starting pay at the majors around 95k and after a few years over 300k and with some seniority more than that, why stay. I flew Tomcats, got out when I could got an airline job and then a flying Tomcats in the reserves. I wound up getting to fly fighters for 17 years. ANG guys can fly even longer. It’s not easy to make that happen and odds are you wind up commuting to one of the jobs. Flying in the reserves, at least where I was, was a 7 to 10 day/month commitment. Add to that 17 days with the airline, not much free time. Of course you can take military leave with the airline and they have to honor it, but it’s a real commitment. I used to take a few days mil leave each month to make my schedule work. BUT at 60 you get a retirement from the military, free TRICARE which includes Medicare part D for life for you and the wife. Along with the airline benefits, retirement is nice.
Why do people say that American consumers pay for tariffs when, in reality, foreign countries absorb the cost, and the U.S. government benefits by collecting the extra 25%? Why do they insist that this is not the case?
Why on Earth do you imagine that “foreign countries absorb the cost”?
I make something. I export it to the USA at a modest profit. A reasonable business model is that something costs me $90 to make, and I sell it to a US customer at $100, of which $2 is P&P and I use the remaining $8 to put bread on the table.
Now, USA decides to charge my customer 25% extra on top of what I charge. What’s that to me? I still need to be paid the same amount of money, or my profits – bread on the table for my children – are gone. 25% is a lot for a business – most companies that produce stuff don’t have that sort of profit margin. In my example, for the cost to my customers to stay the same, I’d have to sell the stuff at $80 – less than it costs me to make it. I’m certainly not paying to have someone in the USA use my things. I will absolutely not “absorb the cost”. I would much rather not sell anything at all to the USA.
So to my customers in the USA, the price just went from $100 to $125.
You insist that this is not so, because you have no clue whatsoever how business works. You might imagine that I can just decide to produce it cheaper, and it will happen. This just is not so: if it was possible to produce it at $80, someone else would already be doing it and sell it at $90, out-competing me totally. You might imagine that it only costs me $50 to make, and I can live with less profits. This just is not so: if I produce it at $50, someone else also does, and charges $55 – again, I’m screwed if I try to charge $100 for it.
Your reasoning only works in a Communist economy, where someone can set prices by decree.
China’s Two Sessions | Why Is It Important
How long has President Trump been engaged in a trade war against China and other countries? Is there an end goal in this trade war?
No end in sight. May last for 3 pres terms if not longer.
The reason? USA is broke. Hence, USA is robbing the entire world. Not just China but China is the 2nd largest economy in the world, after USA, by GDP.
Look at US sanction on Cuba. 62 years already. USSA has collapsed already. But USA is still sanctioning Cuba.
Look at something not political. The entire world does not change the clock in the Fall & Spring any more. For decades already. But USA is still doing so as of Spring 2025.
The world has been using metric already eg kilometer or Celsius in measuring temperature. USA still uses miles & F.
Sir Whiskerton and the Treasure of the Time-Traveling Turtle: A Tale of Shells, Shenanigans, and Temporal Tomfoolery
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale so fantastical, so brimming with wit and whimsy, that even the most skeptical of barnyard animals might believe in the magic of time travel. Today’s story is one of ancient treasures, temporal twists, and one turtle’s shell that holds the key to the past—and perhaps the future. So, grab your pocket watch and a sense of adventure, as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Treasure of the Time-Traveling Turtle: A Tale of Shells, Shenanigans, and Temporal Tomfoolery.
The Mysterious Shell
It was a quiet afternoon on the farm, the kind of day where the sun hung lazily in the sky, and the animals lounged about, enjoying the simple pleasures of life. Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s self-appointed detective and philosopher, was perched on his favorite sunbeam, pondering the mysteries of the universe—or at least why the farmer insisted on wearing mismatched socks.
“Perhaps,” Sir Whiskerton mused aloud, “the farmer is making a bold fashion statement. Or perhaps he’s just terrible at laundry.”
“Laundry!” echoed Ditto, the ever-enthusiastic kitten, who had taken to repeating Sir Whiskerton’s words with the precision of a broken record.
But the tranquility was shattered when Slow Bob the Turtle ambled into the barnyard, his shell glinting in the sunlight. “Greetings, fellow farm dwellers,” Slow Bob said in his deliberate, unhurried manner. “I have an announcement of great importance.”
The animals gathered around, intrigued. Slow Bob was known for his wisdom and his storied past, but he rarely made announcements—mostly because it took him so long to get anywhere.
“My shell,” Slow Bob began, “is no ordinary shell. It is a relic of ancient times, imbued with the power to travel through time.”
The barnyard erupted in gasps and murmurs. Time travel? On this farm? It seemed too fantastical to be true.
“Time travel!” Ditto echoed, spinning in circles with excitement.
Sir Whiskerton raised an eyebrow. “Time travel, you say? Fascinating. But why reveal this now, Slow Bob?”
Slow Bob’s eyes twinkled. “Because, dear Sir Whiskerton, there is a treasure hidden in the past—a treasure that could change the fate of our farm. And I believe you and Ditto are the ones to retrieve it.”
The Treasure of the Ancients
According to Slow Bob, the treasure was a golden acorn, said to grant its possessor boundless wisdom and prosperity. It had been lost centuries ago, buried deep within the forest that once stood where the farm now lay.
“The golden acorn?” Sir Whiskerton repeated, his curiosity piqued. “And you believe we can find it?”
“Indeed,” Slow Bob replied. “But be warned—the past is a tricky place. One wrong move, and you could alter the course of history.”
“History!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed more interested in chasing his tail than contemplating temporal paradoxes.
With a sense of adventure (and a healthy dose of skepticism), Sir Whiskerton and Ditto climbed onto Slow Bob’s shell. The turtle closed his eyes, muttered an incantation in a language no one understood, and suddenly—whoosh!—the barnyard vanished in a swirl of light and color.
The Past: A Forest of Wonders
When the trio opened their eyes, they found themselves in a lush, ancient forest. The trees towered above them, their branches heavy with leaves and secrets. The air was thick with the scent of moss and mystery.
“Welcome,” Slow Bob said, “to the past.”
“Past!” Ditto echoed, sniffing a particularly interesting fern.
Sir Whiskerton adjusted his monocle and surveyed the scene. “Fascinating. But where, pray tell, is this golden acorn?”
Slow Bob pointed a slow, deliberate claw toward a distant hill. “There. At the top of that hill lies the treasure. But beware—the forest is full of dangers.”
No sooner had Slow Bob spoken than a rustling sound came from the underbrush. Out stepped a rather disgruntled-looking squirrel, wearing a tiny crown and holding a miniature scepter.
“Halt!” the squirrel declared. “I am King Nutters, ruler of this forest, and I demand to know your business here.”
Sir Whiskerton stepped forward, his tail held high. “Greetings, Your Majesty. We are but humble travelers, seeking the golden acorn.”
King Nutters narrowed his eyes. “The golden acorn, you say? Many have sought it, but none have succeeded. The path is fraught with peril—and riddles.”
“Riddles!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed more interested in chasing a butterfly.
The Riddle of the River
The first challenge came in the form of a wide, rushing river. A signpost stood on the riverbank, bearing a riddle:
“I am not alive, yet I grow. I don’t have lungs, yet I need air. What am I?”
Sir Whiskerton pondered the riddle, his whiskers twitching with concentration. “Not alive, yet it grows… Doesn’t have lungs, yet needs air… Ah! It’s fire!”
“Fire!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed to be trying to set a leaf on fire with his mind.
The moment Sir Whiskerton spoke the answer, a bridge materialized across the river, allowing them to cross safely.
The Trial of the Talking Tree
The next challenge came in the form of a massive, gnarled tree with a face carved into its bark. The tree’s eyes glowed as it spoke in a deep, resonant voice.
“To pass, you must answer this: What has keys but can’t open locks?”
Sir Whiskerton smirked. “A piano, of course.”
“Piano!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed to be trying to play an imaginary one.
The tree’s branches parted, revealing a path forward.
The Golden Acorn
At last, the trio reached the top of the hill, where the golden acorn rested on a pedestal, glowing with an otherworldly light. Sir Whiskerton approached it cautiously, his detective instincts on high alert.
“This is it,” Slow Bob said. “The treasure of the ancients.”
But as Sir Whiskerton reached for the acorn, a voice echoed through the forest. “Wait!”
They turned to see King Nutters, panting as he caught up to them. “You’ve proven yourselves worthy,” the squirrel king said. “But remember—the past holds lessons, but the present is where we live. Take the acorn, but use its wisdom wisely.”
Sir Whiskerton nodded. “Wise words, Your Majesty. We shall heed them.”
The Return to the Present
With the golden acorn in paw, Sir Whiskerton, Ditto, and Slow Bob climbed back onto the turtle’s shell. Another whoosh of light and color, and they were back in the barnyard, the acorn still glowing in Sir Whiskerton’s grasp.
The animals gathered around, marveling at the treasure. “What does it do?” Doris the Hen asked.
Sir Whiskerton smiled. “It reminds us that the past holds lessons, but the present is where we live. And that, my friends, is the greatest treasure of all.”
“Treasure!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed more interested in chewing on a piece of straw.
The Moral of the Story
As the sun set over the farm, the animals reflected on the day’s adventure.
The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: The past holds lessons, but the present is where we live. Whether you’re a time-traveling turtle, a curious kitten, or a cat with a knack for solving mysteries, it’s important to learn from the past while embracing the here and now. And remember, sometimes the greatest treasures are the ones that remind us to live in the moment.
A Happy Ending
With the golden acorn safely stored in the barn (next to the farmer’s mismatched socks), the farm animals returned to their usual routines. Slow Bob, now a local legend, basked in the admiration of his peers. Sir Whiskerton returned to his sunbeam, content in the knowledge that he had once again saved the day. And Ditto? Well, Ditto was just happy to have something new to echo.
And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new mysteries, and hopefully, no more temporal tomfoolery. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, love, and just a little bit of feline genius.
The End.
Shanghai Woman Defies Parents,Marries African Man,Has 5 Children,and Builds Million Dollar Lifestyle
East Texas Buttermilk Pie
Ingredients
- 1 (9 inch) pie shell, baked
- 3 rounded tablespoons all-purpose flour
- 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 cup butter, melted
- 3 eggs, slightly beaten
- 1 cup buttermilk
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- Nutmeg, to taste (optional)
- Cinnamon, to taste (optional)
Instructions
- Mix flour, sugar and salt; add to butter.
- Add eggs, buttermilk and vanilla extract. Mix and pour into pie shell; sprinkle with nutmeg and cinnamon, if desired.
- Bake at 350 degrees F for 50 minutes. Test with knife. It should come out clean when pie is done.
AMERICANS SHARING LESSONS LEARNED FROM REDNOTE || ” WE GAINED CLARITY” US&CHINA CULTURAL EXCHANGE
Pinder
Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Set your story after aliens have officially arrived on Earth.… view prompt
Nina H
“Technically, I’m not breathing. I’m filtering. But I suppose it means the same thing here,” Broggo said in reply.
“Ok, then stop FILTERING on me!” Kerry snapped and got up from the couch in a huff.
“I sense displeasure. And I believe it has been caused by me. Am I correct?” Broggo queried.
“Yes, it most definitely has been caused by you! Ugh! How YOU were matched with ME is…is…well it’s unexplainable!” Kerry yelled from across the room of her tiny apartment.
“Of course it’s explainable. You see, my kind were all entered into the Pinder database detailing our traits. All of your kind were also entered into the database, and through a series of precise calculations and analysis of data we were matched with each other. It is the most sensible way to account for the influx of population of my kind from Sliggo to Earth. We need shelter, and your kind can help us transition to life here. It’s quite genius.” Broggo explained.
“I KNOW the rationale behind it, you slimy, four-eyed, tentacled creature. I just don’t agree with it!” Kerry lamented.
“Article 8, Section 12 of the Planetary Habitation Agreement signed by your President indicates that failure to comply with Pinder placements will result in fines, imprisonment, and loss of citizenship,” Broggo reminded Kerry.
“That seems better right now than this living arrangement!” Kerry said, grabbing her car keys and heading for the door.
“I’m going to class. Do not touch anything. Or break anything. Or explore. I’ll be home in two hours and will make dinner. Do NOT go near the stove again when I’m gone! I still can’t get the left burners to work and I need another fire extinguisher after your last attempt!” Kerry said and stormed out the door.
“I believe we are making progress in our interspecies relationship,” Broggo said, turning his blue mouth upwards into a smile.
Kerry slammed her car door, and turned the key in the ignition. It has been over two months since the sky turned an unnatural shade of green, and spacecrafts made of unearthly metals emanating purple lights descended upon Earth. The majority landed all across the United States, with a handful in Europe and Asia. It was uncertain whether more would be coming, but something had to be done. In an unprecedented meeting of world leaders, it was decided that the best way to handle the situation was to welcome the alien creatures, assigning Earthmates to each one. A system was developed and quickly put into place, systematically matching Sliggon and human. Once assigned their Earthmate, they would be able to acclimate to life on this planet in peace. This planet did not need any more help destroying itself, and just maybe the Sliggons could help in an intergalactic partnership.
But some partnerships were a bit strained at the moment. Despite the scientific basis of Pinder, maybe not all matches were, well, well-matched.
Kerry sat in class taking notes on the profound works of various physicists. She couldn’t concentrate, and nothing she wrote made sense upon review. She sighed, set down her chewed up yellow number 2, and rested her head in her hands. She had a headache thinking of what Broggo was likely ruining back at home.
Back at home, Broggo was ruining Kerry’s favorite dresses as he attempted to color code them in her closet. He did not agree with the current haphazard arrangement, which unsettled his thought patterns. As he pulled each dress down, he tore several and slimed up the others. Tide Stain Remover was no match for whatever chemical composition coated Broggo’s exterior.
In an unsuccessful attempt to rehang the clothes, he accidentally tore down the bar in the closet they hung on. He stared with all four of his eyes at the wooden bar his tentacled arms were wrapped around.
“Well. This is not going as I had planned,” Broggo said to the spider plant hanging in the window. He always waited for a reply. He never got one.
Kerry closed her notebook, gathered her things, and steeled herself against the thought of heading home to Broggo.
She thought about his attempt to cook her dinner. He took a cup of strawberry yogurt from the fridge, put it in a pot on the stove, and added Cheerios, three Oreos, and several scoops of corn starch. The plastic yogurt cup melted, everything caught on fire, and her kitchen hasn’t smelled the same since. But he wanted to make her happy. That’s more than most people in her life these days. Maybe she wasn’t giving him a chance. She wasn’t the easiest to live with either. She was messy, unorganized, and a free spirit when it came to chore completion. She had a motto of “why do today what can be done tomorrow?”
Kerry suddenly swiped right into the drive-thru of Dunkin Donuts. She ordered half a dozen assorted donuts, a chocolate frozen coffee, and a vanilla latte. Even Sliggons would appreciate that, right?
She drove home sipping her latte, ready to present her peace offering. She had lost her temper for no reason, and it wasn’t the first time. Maybe being Earthmates wouldn’t be so bad after all if she gave Broggo a chance. And nobody (no creature?) could be worse than her last human one. She still hadn’t forgiven her for stealing her boyfriend right under her nose, then parading him around the apartment. After living in an awkward, uncomfortable sea of tension for two weeks, they both found a new place together. What was she even thinking? Humans can be awful creatures.
Kerry laughed and thought “Hmph, good riddance to both of them! Broggo may very well burn the place down, but he’s never going to backstab.”
And with that, Kerry unlocked the door and went back to her (their) apartment. She watched with a smile as a thankful Broggo inserted three Boston Cremes into his stomach opening.
Maybe Pinder got it right after all.
Trump has posted “The United States is not going to be subsidizing Canada any longer,” adding “We don’t need your Cars, we don’t need your Lumber, we don’t your Energy, and very soon, you will find that out.” Does anyone actually believe this?
Ummm … he doesn’t need Canadian energy. So that’s why he threw a massive Trumper Tantrum when Ontario imposed a 25% export tax on electricity from that province.
And poor widdle Donald is crying great crocodile tears about innocent civilians. Seriously? Donald who has fucked over his own poor is whining? Methinks that Donald better get a new acting coach.
Cars: Right, sure. You mean the way Trump turned the front lawn of the White House into a Tesla showroom? Or do you mean the giant three-legged stool that is the integrated North American car industry. And Trump is the fat oaf sitting on the stool saying, “hmmm … I’m going to saw a leg off. Maybe two.
Lumber: Hopefully some Grown Up experts in the construction industry will gently take little Donnie by the hand, and explain the Grown Up Facts of life in construction. Namely that Canada is cold, that trees grow more slowly in cold climates, and that the resulting lumber – with growth rings closer together – is superior for constructions.
Energy: I have an idea: let Canada announce that there will be no more Canadian crude oil. That’s 4.4 million barrels per day and growing. It’s approaching 25% of America’s voracious thirst for crude. <<sarcasm>> But sure, Trump has that amount of oil, of the right grade, in his back pocket. <<sarcasm off>>
But seriously, folks. Just look at the Trumper Tantrum that resulted from Ontario’s export tax on a (relatively) small amount of electricity. Trump’s resulting tantrum would be the one for the history books and for the ages.
What a fucking hypocrite and liar.
What are some satisfying photos?
- Perfect Aim.
2. Best snowball Award.
3. The pawshank redemption
4. Perfect coca cola glass
5. Natural symmetry
6. Don’t you dare touch this.
7. Perfect breakfast.
8. Fruit mandala.
9. Google data centre, Douglas County, USA.
10.Still waters.
11. He better stop there.
12. Enlighten my life.
13. That shadow from chair grill.
14. Purr-fection
15. I’ll never eat this.
I’ll update the list soon and stop at 69 images.
~Tekina
What is an insane coincidence that you’ve experienced?
I bought a fairly rare car with a very rare configuration and it ended up having a defect. The manufacturer ended up replacing the car (impressive move without a lot of hassle and they certainly didn’t need to at the stage that they did so). The dealership that I replaced the car at was about 40 miles from my home, in a metropolitan area of about 2.2 million people.
A few months before exchanging the car, we had moved homes, but only a couple of miles away. About three months after exchanging the car, I ordered a pair of shoes and they were delivered to the old house (we had moved several months earlier at this point). I decided to drive to the old house on the off chance that the residents had received the package.
When I arrived and was walking up the driveway, I noticed a car identical to the one that had been replaced sitting in the driveway, again because this was a very rare configuration this stood out. The car had one small scrape on the front fender when I turned it on and I checked this one and it had the same mark. So, in the driveway of my old home sat my old car. This was weird.
At the door, I found my shoes and asked the gentleman “whose car is that in the driveway” and the guy (who I had never met before) just started laughing. He told me that he already knew it was my former car because when the dealership did the registration paperwork it already had the right address in the system and they were blown away.
So, the guy who moved into my previous home, bought my previous car (presumably repaired), from a dealership 40 miles away, in a city of over two million people. I don’t know what the odds are of this happening, but they are astronomical.
The main blonde boob photo looks similar to another one posted awhile back. I know you have topless ones of that series.
Set Them Free!
how does one apply the lessons of the past to the present moment to contribute to enriching experience of same, for ones self and those in ‘close proximity’????
a question for the DC, not so much to DC, but FOR DC??? response to be evaluated by each strata of consciousness with coherent criteria to the strata….
Thank you in advance MM for your role as messenger/ postman…. should you accept it… this tape will commit self-immolation in 3 minutes… hahahaha
Cheerful Love GrizzlyBear Hug
unuk
Greg, the problem with excessively big-hipped/breast women (in this case, others may be with ‘hung like a donkey’ frase) is that in some positions and activities, whether the partner is of the same or other gender, the ‘partner’ dies from asphixiation…. thus limiting the exploration of sexuality in all its facets of possibility…. is tanathos a major issue in in the fixation /obsession of excessive proportions in the sense of phi/golden mean ??? hahahaha
I was being sarcastic in my comment. I assume the purpose was to help bond some of the male readers and commentors on here but not doing much for the female readers. MM showed bare boobies of the AI paintings within the articles, just not the main photo at the top of the page. I for one thought they were quite funny and wondered how much bigger they would get with future articles. Although not really sad to see they are being phased out.
Alternatives to male bonding, depending on definition of ‘male’ and ‘adult’….
one moves into a town where there is an armed-services base, nearby there is a strip-joint where even those not billeted on the base can do bonding… even off-world places run that script… no artificial silicone jobs hopefully…
or to the local library and bond while philoso-phi-sing not in a So-phi-stic manner….
Cheerful Love GrizzlyBear Hu…… g
unuk