I don’t recall the Domain Commander telling me that he / it said something to me. But he / it says that he did.
Is the DC lying, or are my memories faulty?
This is what I want to talk about today.
…
What the heck is going on?
Is he/it playing with me, or is there a disconnect with my memory and my experiences. These references do not refer to pre-birth agreements, but rather to things that are recent.
Don’t you know.
What is going on?
…
So on one of my daily chats… well, I do have them, don’t you know, DC said that my experiences are pre-ordained, and that I knew about this from the start. That I agreed to them all, and even planned them (to some extent). I have no recollection to this at all.
Am I losing my mind?
That means everything that I experience is fated, and that I chose my own fate in my pre-birth world line template.
Surprise!
This is what I am told, but I really do not like the implications all that much.
Sigh.
…
My next question to the DC is what the heck is my Mantid doing if I am part of Domain.
Answer (just now); is that I integrated both the prime and GP Mantids into Domain as part of my integration “ritual”.
*Sigh*
Too much information. Not all that great and comfortable.
Today…
When have you cheaply or inexpensively fixed an item someone thought unrepairable?
I have 2 cases where I was able to cash in on junk.
I was about 15, and found a big LCD television on the curb. I noticed the person who’s house it was, and stopped to ask if I could grab it. He told me I could—that it didn’t work. It just stopped functioning one day. I got my brother to swing by with his car. We took it home, plugged it in, and using the on/off switch on the side of the TV, it kicked on no problem. We let it run, ran through the channels. Seemed to work perfectly. The problem with it? The batteries in the remote control were dead! Seriously, new batteries, the TV was good as new!
Also, this was around 1998 or so, I was at the landfill. I saw the person next to me throw a chunk of nice hardwood into the pile. It was an old rifle stock. I asked if I could have it. It was a pretty piece of wood, I could certainly find a use for it. He told me, sure. Grab it. Then he said “do you want the rest of it?” And in an old broken bushel basket, inside of a plastic pale, were bits of metal—a bolt, some springs, screws, and a barrel. I’m not much of a gun nut, but was intruiged by it. My father is a gun buff—especially old WWII era stuff. I brought it to him. It turned out to be a WWII era Krag rifle in .30–40. He found an exploded diagram for it, carefully re-assembled the bolt, figured out the complicated sight mechanism, trigger group… Someone had taken it fully apart—every screw, spring, and everything else. Unable to get it back together, they were going to throw it in a landfill.
It turned out to be a beautiful rifle. Perfect rifling, excellent bluing, every part was there. It took some tinkering, but ended up a beautiful bolt action rifle. One that saw a lot of use as a deer rifle.
One man’s trash…
Will a 10% tariff on Chinese imports be absorbed by toy companies that currently source from China or will the price hikes be moved onto the consumer in the short term?
Let’s look at it in a wider perspective. Why slap the tariff on toys? Is it because Trump has weaned himself off toys altogether after being re-elected? No! I don’t think so.
It’s most likely that the skills required to produce them will not be too overwhelming for the US labour force. It’ll be a start for MAGA.
Should Trump balls things up so badly during this 4 year term of his, the Republican may lose the coming elections. Chances are that the Democrats (most likely contender) will dismantle all his policies and everything else will revert to its previous status and the border queues will begin again but on a positive note, fruits and vegetables will be back on the menu, your leaky roofs repaired and your drainage unclogged.
Why 10%? That’s just about what’s going to be the price increase anyway but now a reduction in profit is required to maintain price stability.
All these additional policies reflect badly on the U.S. government especially when targeting a major source of supply and production.
The U.S. government now is looking like an angry parent having kids spending more than they earn and having difficulties in teaching them new skills. Not a moment was the government to blame but others only.
Therefore the blame game begins.
Paula Deen’s Macaroni and Cheese
Ingredients
- 4 cups cooked elbow macaroni, drained
- 2 cups grated Cheddar cheese
- 3 eggs, beaten
- 1/2 cup sour cream
- 4 tablespoons butter, cut into pieces
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1 cup milk
Instructions
- Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
- Once you have the macaroni cooked and drained, place in a large bowl and while still hot add the Cheddar cheese.
- In a separate bowl, combine the remaining ingredients and add to the macaroni mixture.
- Pour macaroni mixture into a casserole dish and bake for 30 to 45 minutes.
- Top with additional cheese if desired.
My Wife Said: ‘You’re Nothing More Than a Co-Parent, Not My Real Match.’ So I Let Her Feel It Too!
Letters to a Dying World
Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Make a mysterious message an important part of your story.… view prompt
Jonathan Page
"You loved the herdsman, shepherd and chief shepherd Who was always heaping up the glowing ashes for you, And cooked ewe-lambs for you every day. But you hit him and turned him into a wolf, His own herd-boys hunt him down And his dogs tear at his haunches." --"Gilgamesh VI" in Myths from Mesopotamia by Stephanie Dalley.
A mysterious book appeared on the shelves of every bookstore the world over, translated into every language. Its title hinted at our deepest fears: “Letters to a Dying World.” The author, Actaeon, claimed to be an extraterrestrial traveler from Lelantos, a moon world orbiting HD 38858b in the Orion cluster.
Thumbing through the pages, with descriptions of an alien hunter race hell bent on wiping out mankind, I wondered at the author’s inclusion of entries containing forgotten human folklore and mythology the author had collected over his two-thousand years walking the earth. I hated the idea of dying at twenty-five-years-old having never written a book, hell, having never even sold a poem for that matter. I’d also never been loved by anyone, and that was a real let down. But my crippling anxiety and despair about how things would turn out for me which tormented my every waking hour, was suddenly gone—gone, gone, not better, just gone. And I had become low-key obsessed with my theory that the decision to include these folk tales was “nostalgic” and I wasn’t so sure that murderers or prosecutors indicting an entire people would be harboring “nostalgia” before an execution.
The Guardian headline read, “End of World at Hand.” The New York Times editor went with, “Unearthly Message of Doom.” Yomiuri Shimbun ran “E.T. Alarm: Alien Invasion Imminent.” My favorite was the Chinese Reference News headline: “Cosmic Warning. Actaeon Heralds Destroyer of Worlds.”
I am Duncan Newkirk, a twenty-five-year-old book clerk at the Argosy Bookstore on 59th Street in New York City. I’d hoped to have a chance to write my first novel before the world ended and to see that name in print, and perhaps be able to point at it on the shelves to the envy of my co-workers, but now it doesn’t look like I will get the chance. I honestly don’t know how I feel about it. As I place “The Letters” on the shelves, I wonder whether the choice to bind the volume in the most durable calfskin leather leaves room for some hope. Byron Parkes is hedged-in by a stack of books and assorted packing materials, preparing mailers to send out to readers who’d purchased copies of “The Letters” online.
“Why would Actaeon include his favorite lost folk tales,” I asked.
Byron said, “maybe it was just his way of summing up a civilization-spanning project. Perhaps he grew fond of us and felt he had some kind of duty to issue a final warning before he went. I dunno, maybe he thought a nod to our art might soften the blow?”
“Sure, sure. But why warn us if we can’t do anything about it?”
“I’m not equipped to puzzle out the motives of a demigod Duncan, are you?”
“I just can’t help thinking there is something we’re missing.”
The book arrived under the strangest of circumstances. The publishing details were absent: no publisher, no year of publication, and no place. The book had no ISBN. Yesterday, I had cross-examined a delivery driver and went through his shipping manifests, but I was unable to search out a clue there either.
Strangely, no bookseller could recall ordering the volume, yet it materialized on shelves daily, seemingly flying off them. “The Letters” occupied prominent spaces in bookstores worldwide—shelved in end caps, local author showcases, and the “staff favorites” section at every bookstore (which is where I had placed this copy). It was all anyone could talk about. And rightfully so.
Here is the first entry, which everyone was talking about on the news, in Congressional Hearings, in the upper chambers of the Argosy bookshop, and pretty much anywhere else people were gathered:
“We are that hunter in the dark forest, that huntsman that hunts the hunters. Any potential threat to our dominance is our prey. We don’t worship gods: we are masters of our own fate. Unlike you, we have no loftier purpose than supremacy. Dominance is our birthright and sole ambition. We have been called ‘pitiless butcher.’ But we see our purpose clearly, we are the purifier of the cosmos. We are the blue star, Kachina. We are the “Day of Purification.” We are annihilation. We are the flail of the gods. The immutable decree of our law is to raid the stars and level galaxies. In the watery worlds we have wrought all the seas, in the lofty skies of gas giants we have clipped the wings of all that soar, and now—my gracious hosts—we stalk the terrestrial planes to rid the land of all the beasts that roam. If we can tame the oceans, subdue the skies, and bridle the plains, dare you doubt that our inexorable march will reach your doorstep? And so, if a Lelantian should ever reveal himself, know this—you have come upon Armageddon and your hour is at hand.”
I was up in the map room stealing away some solitude and immersed in “The Letters” when I was rudely disturbed by Eliana Huchens. Eliana wore her curly locks parted and they reached down to her mid-ear, reminiscent of a boy’s bowl cut. A smile tugged at her lips and pulled up her sharp triangular jaw line a bit, rounding her cheeks. Now, Eliana was a real nerd and was a first-class know-it-all who no doubt had already finished “The Letters” and probably outlined them to boot.
She pulled off the circular glasses she was wearing and said, “Happy End of the World to you Duncan!”
“Same to you Eliana,” I managed.
“What are you reading?”
“Just trying to figure out what this alien thing is all about,” I said refusing to look in her direction in the hopes that would cause her to disappear or at least prevent her from giving me the spoilers. And that was when the idea struck me.
To understand why this particular insight would come to me, of all people, you have to know the most interesting thing about me. And that is that I don’t know where I was born. I’m an orphan. I’m the kind of orphan that doesn’t know who their parents are or even where they are from. My best guess is that I’m from Romania, even though I was given a Scott-Irish name at the Harlem Dowling West Side Center. Growing up in foster care, occasionally with different foster families, I was raised by Catholic priests and faculty members at All Hallows High School in the Bronx, rather than by a traditional family.
I had a persistent fantasy that my real parents were special people who had left me alone in New York City to protect me from a terrible fate but continued to watch over me, with plans to return one day. I didn’t come up with this on my own. I was big time into myths and the story of Zeus’s birth really hit home for me—how he was raised in a cave by nymphs so his father wouldn’t eat him (as Chronos had his five other children)—in an attempt to subvert the prophecy that one of Chronos’s children would overthrow him.
“Eliana—what is that cave where Zeus was raised in Crete?”
“You mean Mount Aegaeon,” she said raising her voice at “aeon” to accentuate her ability to produce the right answer to a question completely out of left field like she had seen it coming.
“Do we know where that is by any chance?”
“It is on Mount Ida.”
“How would we get there and how long would it take?”
“Counting the stop-over in France, my guess is about a full day.”
“Hey, this might sound strange—you want to go there with me?”
* * *
“Entry: “Myth: Lord of Darkness. Names: Erebus or Ratri or Nott or Nox or Nephthys or Tezcatlipoca or the Aztec Council of Nine. Origin: Erebus entity is without form and void. Out of chaos, the dark shadow gave a space to be alit. At once created as empty, silent, and endlessly dark—this creature fell madly in love with Nyx, embracing her in a veil of shadows. Aether was born from their union and brought the daylight that brightens the world. Story: Erebus looked out on the suffering of the hunted, tortured, and put up for death. Seeing Prometheus in agony, Erebus lamented the pain of distress. Thus, Erebus used his powers to darken the lenses of the eyes and dull the light of the mind, so as to shorten the time that one suffers. And from that time forward, Erebus lurks in shadows and dungeons and foul places to give relief to the suffering and to give peace to the tormented. And Erebus, it is told, was once deployed to darken the midday sun.”
* * *
From Heraklion, we journeyed South and West toward Mt. Ida. And passed the time looking out at the line of pyramid-shaped mountains before us bordered by a white desert of hills and limestone. We talked about “The Letters” and looked back at the haunting coast behind us, as we travelled to the Cave of Zeus.
We had been climbing on a twenty-degree grade for over two hours on a well-marked trail with a stone path, when we reached the ridge and the summit ascent. At the top of the mountain pass on the flat saddle of the range was a square hut made out of stones with a small door.
Looking into the cave, was a long descending stone path and a winding staircase that made switchbacks into the moss-covered depths. Stalagmites hung down and oozed in the green light, obstructing our path. Finally, we reached the great hall in the bottom of the cave but saw nothing. The green lights shone on the cave-ceiling overhead but in the well of the cave, we were eclipsed in an eerie darkness, unable to see the contours and outlines of the cave walls.
* * *
“What did you think we were going to find here,” Eliana said.
“It is just that Actaeon is an orphan. And he is obsessed with Greek myths.”
“Duncan, you brought me to Crete. Explain to me again why you think this alien is hiding in a cave on an island.”
“If you read what he wrote, he was obsessed with the Athenian Gods of Mt. Olympus. Zeus was their King. And Zeus lived as an orphan on this Minoan Island until he reached manhood. He was raised by nymphs who acted as his caregivers and nursemaids.”
“So, you are using your orphan whispering skills to conclude that this is where he’d be hiding?”
“ACT—AE—ONNN!! ACT-AEO-NNNNNN!!” I shouted, “come out if you’re here—we mean no harm.”
* * *
Seated on a stone, Actaeon resembled an older Alexander Skarsgård but he had a Bruce Campbell voice with a low gravelly rumble that occasionally chirped up with a sharper baritone.
His features were Nordic. He wore a full length black and gold Corinthian helmet with black and gold horse-hair plumes. His torso was covered in black and gold armor with a cuirass entirely of black except for off-facing dragons above the chest plate and a central rounded lion’s head at the solar plexus, flaring at the waste with black tassels and gold lion’s head buttons. On his arms and legs were gauntlets and greaves of leather, with gold metal coverings. In his left hand, he held a three-foot-tall round shield with golden embroidery and a golden Medusa’s head in the center. Both the bowl of the helmet and the body of the shield were silvered and patinated to appear like blued steel. Across his lap was a golden javelin that glittered in other worldly green.
His eyes looked out from beneath the ovular hollows of his mask, as if transfixed on unspeakable anguish. He turned his regal head toward me and looked at me for a long time.
“So, you read my book,” he said in a sad and melodious voice.
“Uhh, I think pretty much everyone has. It wasn’t subtle, if you know what I mean.”
“Hrmph. I mean, you really read it. You must have. Or else you would never have thought to look for me here.”
“Sir…uhh… master of the hounds… ahh… I’m not sure what to call you. You see, I am an orphan too and it occurred to me you might identify with Zeus being orphaned in a cave. That’s what made me think you might be here.”
“Very, very good. You were exactly right. But why have you come?”
“I suppose, sir, uhh, what I was thinking was, is there any way our world might be spared?”
“Nothing lasts forever, kid. I’ve really grown fond of this place, but it’s smoke ‘em if you got ‘em time, if you catch my drift.”
“But there must be some way?”
“Here kid, maybe this will help—but I can’t guarantee how things will come out. Luna is coming, my hounds are coming, the whirlwind is coming—and there’s f**kall anyone can do about it now.”
Actaeon had handed me a thin pamphlet that contained a final verse, that I decided to save and read on the way down the trail. I thought I’d read it aloud to Aliana while we planned our next move.
“There’s something else kid, for you and your girlfriend.”
“Excuse me! I am not anyone’s girlfriend—I am Eliana Huchens if you must know—I was the one that knew where this cave is, not Duncan.”
“Wooee! A real firecracker. A spirited independent woman. You remind me of Luna. That woman will always be one step ahead and never back down for anything.”
“Wellll,” Eliana began, “did you ever consider just letting her win?”
“Mwahaha. We are Lelantians. You want me to let her win. Are you mad! She might blot out a whole galactic neighborhood for cheating her out of an honorable victory.”
Eliana raised her hand as Actaeon shook his head and looked in my direction, shooting me a glance that meant to say what is she doing here anyway. Eliana kept waving her hand and said, “Over here, Mr. Houndman—you weren’t listening—didn’t you say you’ve been living among us for two-thousand-years, sheesh. You can’t possibly be this dense.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, let her win. I didn’t say that you had to let her know about it.”
“You know, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“That’s why I brought her along, sir,” I said, “she is the smart one—she always has the right answer.” Elaina shot me a loving glance like she wanted to kiss me.
“Tell you what, kid. Wear this bracelet. You’ll be able to reach me. This is ‘emergencies only,’ you get me. And I’ll call if I need you.”
* * *
Walking down the mountain, I read the verse in the pamphlet:
“My lord, Luna (who your myths refer to as Artemis or Cynthia or Phoebe or Diana), is the most ruthless of us all. She was my playmate and at full age my lover. We two were protégés of Lupa (who your myths refer to as Chiron). But Luna was highborn, whereas I was a countrified orphan foundling adopted by a noble house. Despite my lowbred station, I excelled even above Luna in the art of tracking and the stealthy kill, for I am the doyen of hounds. Our rivalry spanned eons and star systems. I strove to prove myself by bringing her under the submission of my prowess, bringing her ever more exotic and elusive prey and the prizes of galactic game auctions for her to display in her temples. She sought to dominate me by arresting and chaining my heart with beguiling deceit and finesse, with cunning zero-option challenges that could test the honor of the immortal one himself if she had but a moment’s audience. This past week, we rendezvoused on an ocean world. I came upon her bathing nude in the luxurious aquamarine waters of a sundrenched and endless sea. In my ardor, I made my petition that she fulfill my yearnings and join with me in the hunt. I told her that I was helpless like a deer panting for water—would she satisfy my deep thirst at last? Whatever affection she held for me could not compete with her ambition. ‘Loutish prole’ she said, ‘how dare you! I will not deign to come when called. I am not some trophy to be pricked by a hunter’s arrow. I am the wraith of shadows that travels on moonbeams—the muse of the toxophilite whose aim is guaranteed.’ And in her outrage, she made me a devil’s bargain. I could reveal the location of the world I had been scouting—your Earth—so its destruction could commence, or she would turn me over to my own hounds. Do not despair, you will be pleased to know that your world is safe for a time… until I am laid low at least, I’d expect. Alas, she has marked me as prey for my own hounds with a mark that cannot be expunged. Though I be the maven of concealers, my bloodhounds possess all time in their droopy jowls and will flush out death itself if it is marked for them to do so. And now that they are on my trail, my days are numbered, and if you read these words, my number is up already.”
Reading it aloud, I wondered if Actaeon might avoid his fate, if mankind might also, and I was determined that it would be so. I finally had a book worth writing.
Why did Republicans fund ‘transgender dance’ in Bangladesh?
As Trump attacks foreign spending on “woke” initiatives, a GOP-aligned outfit has largely escaped scrutiny, despite using taxpayer funds to sponsor “transgender dance performances” and what it called the “largest published survey of LGBTI people in Bangladesh.” According to documents obtained by The Grayzone, the US-funded International Republican Institute sees gay and transgender people as uniquely disruptive actors who can be deployed to manipulate political realities overseas, stating, “LGBTI people tend to participate in social change activities to eventually bring changes to politics.”
Pete Hegseth Drops TRUTH BOMBS on NATO & Ukraine…Then Gets EXPOSED by Brian Berletic
Read part one of The Grayzone’s investigation into International Republican Institute’s activities in Bangladesh here.
For years, the Republican Party-aligned International Republican Institute’s (IRI) agenda in Bangladesh has been dominated by ethnic minority and transgender issues, with leaked documents revealing the Institute sponsored “the largest published survey of LGBTI people in Bangladesh” and that a full 24% of the 1,868 Bangladeshis who participated in IRI programs in 2019 and 2020 were transgender.
The IRI’s cultural activities were conducted with explicitly subversive objectives, aiming to recruit socially excluded groups as regime change activists. They mirrored the US government’s machinations in Cuba, where, as The Grayzone reported, USAID funded rappers, artists, and “desocialized and marginalized youth” to undermine the country’s socialist government.
Since its founding in 1983, the congressionally-funded IRI has been run by Republican politicians and operatives dedicated to the cause of “democracy promotion” abroad. IRI’s Chairman, Sen. Dan Sullivan, is a vehement opponent of same sex marriage who signed on to a GOP letter calling to restrict the participation of transgender youth in sports. While many of the institute’s board members are Never Trump Republicans like Sen. Mitt Romney, the board also includes Sen. Tom Cotton, a top Trump ally who strongly opposes transgender medical interventions for youth.
The IRI’s eyebrow-raising statistics on trans participation in regime change activities were included in an internal report on its PAIRS (“Promoting Accountability, Inclusivity, and Resiliency Support”) Program, which was obtained by The Grayzone in 2024. The report boasts that “IRI issued 11 advocacy grants to artists, musicians, performers or organizations that created 225 art products addressing political and social issues that were viewed nearly 400,000 times [and] supported three civil society organizations from LGBTI, Bihari and ethnic communities to train 77 activists and engage 326 citizens to develop 43 specific policy demands, which were proposed before 65 government officials.”
All told, between March 1, 2019 and December 31, 2020, the Republican group sponsored 160 photographs, 30 paintings, 21 theatrical shows, five short films, three “transgender dance performances,” three documentaries, two rap songs and accompanying music videos, and one book. Meanwhile, IRI staff had “identified over 170 democratic activists who would cooperate with IRI to destabilize Bangladesh’s politics,” they wrote. [Editor’s note: the IRI has claimed that this phrase did not appear in their original report.]
The activities were frequently attended by American diplomats, with the US ambassador to Bangladesh at the time, Earl Miller, even providing the welcome speech for a seven-day art exhibit titled “The Power of Art.” When the IRI held an “invitation-only book launch event… for a book that documents the lives of LGBTI people in Bangladesh” featuring “a panel discussion with LGBTI activists,” a political officer and a consular officer from the US embassy were on hand as well. At the IRI’s third transgender dance performance in December of 2020, “guests from the US embassy were the deputy consul general and deputy director of the Office for Democracy, Rights, and Governance.”
Discussions that would guide the Institute’s actions were similarly dominated by transgender voices, with 136 of the 308 community members the IRI interviewed when generating policy proposals listed as “transgender/nonbinary.” According to the documents, these meetings generated 60 policy proposals, of which 17 related specifically to “LGBTI” issues.
So why did transgender people make up a quarter of the IRI program’s participants, in a country of 173 million where a 2022 census found they comprise just 0.007% of the population? The IRI documents suggest it’s because the Institute views gay and transgender people as uniquely disruptive actors who can be deployed to manipulate political realities overseas: “Facing discrimination and prejudice, LGBTI people tend to participate in social change activities to eventually bring changes to politics.”
Apparently, the IRI were slowly but surely achieving their desired changes, with the report’s authors bragging that they’d successfully “capacitated new and under-utilized activists from marginalized communities to advocate for change with policymakers,” but concluding that “although IRI’s beneficiaries made important strides in raising public awareness and advocating for change, more time, resources and skills are needed to capitalize on this preliminary success to formalize changes in public attitudes and policy.” The campaign appeared to take root in 2019, when IRI conducted a “baseline assessment” which concluded that “modern forms of cultural activism are underutilized” and “advocacy campaigns should target national-level officials to maximize impact.”
While the emphasis on transgender issues may fly in the face of the GOP’s publicly-professed values, it doesn’t necessarily indicate that Republican leaders have secretly shifted their attitude towards the immutability of gender. As Mike Benz, the former State Department official who helped spearhead the ongoing push to defund USAID, recently noted, “I don’t think that the Republicans at IRI are woke — I think you have tactical wokeness in service of statecraft.”
Describing The Grayzone’s previous investigation into the IRI’s efforts to fund aggrieved Bangladeshis to destabilize their country, Benz explained: “these DEl wokeness programs are part of the ethnic balkanization and human rights predicates that are laid by the state in order to topple and control governments.”
That’s exactly what happened in 2024 when Bangladesh’s elected prime minister, Sheikh Hasina, was deposed in a Western-backed coup which legacy media hailed as a revolutionary uprising over an autocratic dictator. Within weeks, Hasina had been replaced as head of state by Muhammad Yunus, a Clinton Global Initiative fellow awarded a Nobel Prize for popularizing the concept of micro-lending, a recent financial innovation which finally gave hundreds of millions of impoverished people across the planet the opportunity to access crippling debt.
It’s not clear exactly how much taxpayer money has been expended on capacity-building transgender and ethnic minority Bangladeshis, but for the time being, the funding mechanisms are still in place. While the Trump administration has ordered a 90-day freeze on non-Israeli foreign spending and slashed USAID’s employees from over 14,000 to just 294, the IRI’s parent organization, the National Endowment for Democracy (NED), remains untouched.
The NED was founded in 1983 by President Reagan as the CIA sought to offload its funding responsibilities after the Church Committee exposed dozens of its highly illegal operations, including the MKULTRA mind control program, various efforts to assassinate international leaders, and Operation Mockingbird, which saw Langley come to exercise so much control over American newsrooms that the agency’s covert operations chief, Frank Wisner, famously compared the press to a “mighty Wurlitzer” which would play any song he liked. For dedicated Cold Warriors, the disappearance of that propaganda network in light of its exposure in the ‘70s was inarguably a major loss.
With the advent of the NED, the Cold Warriors gained a new channel through which they could subsidize regime change activists and amplify their message. In 1991, NED cofounder Allen Weinstein admitted in an interview with the Washington Post that “a lot of what we do today was done covertly 25 years ago by the CIA.”
Much like USAID, the NED, which recently welcomed veteran neocon coup plotter Victoria Nuland to its board of directors, also oversees the annual disbursement of hundreds of millions for various activities likely to foment coups d’etat across the globe. That money continues to be split down the middle and funneled through one of two partisan organizations: the National Democratic Institute and the IRI.
Unfortunately for Bangladesh’s community of US-funded culture warriors, that may not be the case for much longer. Elon Musk, the head of the newly-established Department of Government Efficiency, recently put NED on notice, linking to a list of indicators of corruption at the agency and writing on X: “NED is a SCAM.”
Shorpy
Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Missing Bone: A Froggy Fiasco
Ah, dear reader, gather ‘round for another tail-wagging (or should I say bone-chewing?) adventure starring none other than Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s most brilliant (and modest) detective. Today’s tale involves a missing bone, a bullfrog with big ambitions, and a raccoon pulling strings from the shadows. It’s a story full of absurdity, humor, and—of course—a moral that will leave you grinning like a dog who just found his favorite chew toy.
So grab your sense of humor and let’s leap into The Case of the Missing Bone: A Froggy Fiasco .
A Bone to Pick
It all began on a sunny afternoon when Rufus the radioactive dog came bounding up to Sir Whiskerton, his electric-green fur glowing faintly in the sunlight.
“Whiskerton!” Rufus barked anxiously. “I’ve lost my bone! My precious, delicious, perfectly gnawed bone!”
“Lost it?” Sir Whiskerton asked, raising an eyebrow. “How does one lose a bone? Did you bury it and forget where?”
“No!” Rufus insisted, pacing back and forth. “I left it right here by the pond while I chased a butterfly. When I came back, it was gone!”
“Well,” Sir Whiskerton said, stroking his whiskers thoughtfully, “perhaps it grew legs and walked away.”
“That’s not funny!” Rufus whined, his tail drooping. “That bone was special! It had character! Personality! Bite marks shaped like… well, me!”
Before Sir Whiskerton could respond, a deep, booming voice interrupted them.
“Ah, Rufus,” Leonardo the Bullfrog croaked, hopping onto a nearby rock. “I couldn’t help but overhear your plight. What if I told you I could provide you with not one, but many bones? Juicy ones, crunchy ones, even bones dipped in gourmet sauces!”
Rufus perked up immediately. “Really? Where do I sign?”
“Sign?” Sir Whiskerton echoed skeptically. “Since when do dogs sign anything? Do they even have opposable thumbs?”
Ignoring him, Leonardo continued, puffing out his chest dramatically. “All you need to do is convince Sir Whiskerton to allow more frogs onto the farm. Together, we can build a new society—a utopia based on frog principles!”
“A frog utopia?” Sir Whiskerton muttered, rolling his eyes. “This just got weirder.”
Bandit’s Puppet Strings
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to anyone, Bandit the Raccoon was watching from the bushes, chuckling to himself.
“This is working better than I planned,” Bandit whispered, rubbing his paws together. “Let’s see how far this froggy fever spreads before Whiskerton figures it out.”
Bandit had orchestrated the whole thing as part of a scheme to distract everyone while he searched for hidden treasures around the farm. After all, what better way to keep the animals occupied than by convincing them to argue about amphibian politics?
But little did Bandit know, Sir Whiskerton was already onto something.
Unlikely Scenarios Manifest
As word spread about Leonardo’s promise of bones, chaos erupted across the farm. The hens started clucking about forming a “Chicken Parliament.” Doris declared herself “Minister of Feed Distribution,” while Harriet and Lillian debated whether chickens should adopt frog-like jumping exercises.
Even Ferdinand the duck got involved, quacking loudly about starting a “Duck Dynasty” modeled after frog society.
“It’s madness!” Sir Whiskerton exclaimed, watching the spectacle unfold. “Frogs ruling farms? Chickens hopping? Ducks wearing crowns? This has gone too far!”
“Too far!” Echo chimed in, batting at a stray feather.
“Echo, please,” Sir Whiskerton sighed. “We don’t need commentary right now.”
Amidst the chaos, Rufus was torn between his loyalty to Sir Whiskerton and his desire for those mythical bones.
“But Whiskerton,” Rufus pleaded, “what if Leonardo’s telling the truth? What if there really are better bones out there?”
“There aren’t,” Sir Whiskerton said firmly. “And besides, frogs don’t even eat bones. They eat flies. Disgusting, wriggly flies.”
Leonardo frowned. “That’s beside the point! This is about progress, innovation, and—”
“And nonsense,” Sir Whiskerton interrupted. “Now, let’s focus on finding your actual bone instead of chasing imaginary ones.”
The Great Bone Hunt
With Sir Whiskerton leading the charge, the search for Rufus’s missing bone began. They scoured the pond, the barn, and even the haystacks, but found nothing.
Just as Rufus was about to give up hope, Sir Whiskerton noticed something peculiar near the scarecrow—a trail of muddy paw prints leading toward the woods.
“Interesting,” Sir Whiskerton mused. “Those prints look suspiciously raccoon-shaped.”
Realization dawned on him. “Bandit! Of course. He must have taken the bone to distract us while he searches for treasure.”
Sure enough, they found Bandit digging near the old oak tree, Rufus’s bone clutched triumphantly in his paws.
“Caught red-pawed,” Sir Whiskerton declared, flicking his tail smugly.
Bandit froze, dropping the bone. “Uh… hi, guys. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Give Rufus his bone back,” Sir Whiskerton commanded. “And no more schemes. Or I’ll sic Rufus on you.”
Bandit gulped and handed over the bone. Rufus wagged his tail ecstatically. “My bone! You found it!”
Restoring Order
With the bone safely returned, Sir Whiskerton called a meeting to address the farm’s recent frog frenzy.
“Listen up, everyone,” he announced. “Frog utopias, chicken parliaments, and duck dynasties might sound fun, but they’re not practical. We’re a farm, not a political experiment. Let’s stick to what works: teamwork, friendship, and occasional naps.”
The animals murmured in agreement, realizing how silly they’d been. Even Leonardo admitted his plan might have been a bit ambitious.
“You’re right, Whiskerton,” Leonardo said, bowing respectfully. “Maybe frogs aren’t ready to rule farms just yet. But someday…”
“Someday, maybe,” Sir Whiskerton said diplomatically. “For now, let’s focus on being the best farm animals we can be.”
A Happy Ending
With order restored, Rufus happily settled down to gnaw on his beloved bone, while the rest of the farm returned to their usual routines. Leonardo decided to stay on as the farm’s resident poet, composing odes to mud puddles and mosquitoes.
As for Bandit, he slunk off into the woods, muttering about needing a new plan.
The moral of the story, dear reader, is simple yet profound: Sometimes, the simplest solutions are the best. Whether it’s finding a lost bone or solving a farm-wide frenzy, staying grounded and working together always leads to the happiest endings.
Until next time, my friends.
The End.
Is it safe to say that China is at least 30 years ahead of India?
I can’t quantify how far ahead China is
I can certainly say
- China is far safer than India wrt crime
- China is far more unified than India
- China had way lesser corruption than India
- China has way more indigenous and original and cutting edge technology than India
- China has way better Infrastructure than India
- China is way more advanced Militarily than India
These points are Truism points
They are all observed by thousands of people
In my opinion
- China has a better political system than India
- China has a better financial system than India
These are in my opinion
What has been the last most inexplicable criminal case you have seen?
The Boxcar.
This is one that you most likely have never heard of. It happened in the long-ago year of 1962. I learned about it in 1995 after my father passed, and I found his cases of investigation reports while cleaning out his garage.
He worked for a major railroad as an incident and criminal investigator. Mind you this happened well before the advent of the internet, and it was never revealed because, as his file stated on the final page. “Govmnt Investigative Agent ordered case closed, and all company investigative records remitted to USSS office St. Louis.” Of course, my father, being an old ex-Fibbie, and then railroad flatfoot, knew better than to ever turn over all of your records to the USSS. Then, as now, there was one hell of a lot of interagency distrust.
Here’s the story:
In October 1962, a boxcar full of used and withdrawn United States Currency was being shipped from Dallas, Texas to St. Louis, Missouri for destruction. For reasons known only to God, and the USSS, the only guards on the shipment were two armed guards in the lead engine, and two in the caboose. This train had been flagged for direct routing with no stops or drop-offs except to take on new crews in Oklahoma and Springfield, Missouri.
The train was comprised of one hundred six cars with three engines and one caboose. The USSS obviously didn’t want any untoward attention by placing flatcars before and after their box car with armed agents on them. That was my father’s assessment.
When the train stopped in Oklahoma to change crews, the USSS boys did a quick inspection and all was well.
Now for the conundrum. Overnight it rolled through Oklahoma, and then into the yards in Springfield, Missouri. Then the manure hit the fan. The Feds did their inspection, and the box car was gone. Missing from a rolling train that didn’t stop between inspection sites.
By sun up there were a hundred or more Fibbies, Treasury Agents, and USSS Agents on site. All local law enforcement were excluded except for traffic control, so there exists no reports on their logs except for a day long federally generated incident of traffic control at <REDACTED> Railroad yards.
A boxcar carrying 102,000 pounds of United States Currency had gone missing. Let that sink in for a moment, at the average weight of 4 grams per note, that equates to 11,560,000 notes, less the wright of palleting, etc. In 1962, the most common notes used, in circulation, and probably sent for destruction would have been ten and twenty dollar notes. As my father calculated, the contents would have been approximately $173,500,000.00, or $1.08Bn adjusted for currency changes to 2025 dollars
My father’s real involvement began in 1967, five years after the theft occurred. He had a report of the recovery of a temporary switch that had been reported stolen from a local yard, coincidentally around the same time as the box car incident. He took a local to the yard, ahh back in the day of passenger trains, and the yardmaster showed him the switch that lay in an overgrown grassy area just inside their fence. A temporary switch is like what you would find in a train set. It has tracks leading to the switch, from the switch, and away to a temporary siding where you needed to transfer the load. They are also limited to about twenty miles per hour. The switch weights around 400 pounds, so it could have been carried by three or four men.
Dad noticed that the yard seemed to be finishing up some major construction, and he queried the yardmaster about it. Apparently in late 1961, they had to install several sidings, and two additional switches to new lines running to the northwest. Dad asked if they were on restricted speed during that time, and was told they had been on fifteen miles per hour restriction since late 1961, and it was only lifted in 1964.
Something must have clicked in his mind, and he spent a few hours inspecting the yards. About thirty feet from one of the older set of tracks, he found abandoned tracks in the dirt, mostly buried. Not an odd thing to find in a railyard, but as he followed them, within a hundred feet or so, he noticed that they were descending. The area ahead was grown over with weeds, but a hundred yards or so on, it was treed. He walked over the area and noticed that there was a slight concavity where the tracks should have been.
He asked the yardmaster about what had been cleared and not cleared in 1961. The man’s response was that the area was loaded with every kind of dirt moving machine known to mankind for several years, and the engineers handled all that. He did offer that it had all been basically cleared and the new areas gravelled, etc. There had been no new gravel in the area the tracks went into the ground.
Dad had a theory, and when he got back to Springfield he called his contacts in the Bureau.
The very next day they all met at the other railyard with ground moving gear. The Bureau, and the USSS showed up. They set up lights at night and over the next few days they dug up the remains of the missing boxcar and a set of tracks that had allowed it to have been run into a hole that had been dug for it. Needless to say, the boxcar was empty.
There was a meeting at our home that I remember to this day. He was “told” by USSS agents and the Fibbies, that he would be going to Washington with them, and there was a heated discussion. Statements like, “I don’t work for you anymore, boys.” and “oh, you’re gonna arrest me if I don’t comply.” A bit more hollering, and then even after my Mother swept me way out of the room, I heard my father saying as he threw his two badges on the table, “I’m a Deputy Sheriff as well as a railroad officer, and you’re not ordering me anywhere.” Back in the day, all railroad officers were also Sheriff’s Deputies.
The Feds left, Dad’s face was bright red, and my Mother, very attuned to his moods, handed him a cold Pabst, and kissed his cheek. Then she led him to his chair, turned on the TV, and said “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, my love.”
Just around dark, the one FBI agent who Dad apparently knew came back, and very politely apologized. The then said that our phone would ring at 7:00 and Dad should take the call. He was correct and at the stroke of seven the phone rang, and Dad did answer. All I remember of this is that he took a deep breath, and then answered, “Yes, Director, I recognize your voice. What can I do for you.”
Mom moved me out of the room, but the next morning, Dad and Mom boarded an FBI jet brought to Springfield just for him, and I spent the next four days with my Grandparents.
When they returned, all was well with the world, and my Father resumed his usual pleasant demeanor.
If you’ve read this far, here is what my Father theorized it has been paraphrased:
“The train had been “doctored,” after it left the Oklahoma staff transfer. Someone had added two heavy duty winches to the sides of the boxcar that was stolen. The air lines had been sealed so that once they were cut at the boxcar the brakes would not have locked on. they manually uncoupled the car from the train before it got to the suspect railyard, and slowly the winches separated the train with the car riding alone and slowly making a dead space. It was a foggy night and the car was halfway between the engine and the caboose, so none of the agents saw what was happening. When the train slowed to the 15 mph passthrough speed, one of the UNSUBS manually applied the brakes to the car and kept it floating. When the car ahead had passed the temporary switch the UNSUBS switched it so that the boxcar rolled onto the temporary siding, then switched it back so the car following stayed on the main line. By the time the caboose rolled by, the boxcar had rolled into the hole on the ground and plowed into a dirt wall. All in the foggy dark. The UNSUB on the train then winched the car ahead and the car trailing, back together, and manually recoupled them. He then removed the winching clasps and tossed them into some farmer’s field. (They were later recovered after my father’s theory was looked into.) The winches were still attached to the stolen boxcar. The UNSUB on the train most likely simply stepped off the train when it got down to walking speed in the Springfield yard. They waited a year or more before removing the money, and simply packed it into trucks during site construction.
No record exists in any searchable official record about this crime. The last document in my Father’s file on the matter was a letter on FBI stationary, to my father from J. Edgar Hoover. It simply thanked him for his help, and in the last line he added. “I am proud that this was solved by a Bureau man.” It was signed informally “Jayee”
How can the Trump administration have a good relationship with Russia when the US and Russian interests are not aligned?
The interests of USA in general does not align with Russia.
In 1992, USA thought of breaking up Russia. USA made it into a US foreign policy towards Russia in 1994.
More than once, Russia-Putin expressed concern of NATO enlargement eastwards esp Ukraine which is the door-step of Russia. Because that will threaten Russia’s safety.
Remember the 1962 Cuban crisis where USSR installed missiles in Cuba to threaten US safety? … Nobody likes missiles at their door-step. In fact, the Cuban crisis was caused by the fact that, earlier, USA installed missiles at Turkeyi.
Because it is a US foreign policy towards Russia, US interest never aligned with Russia. E.Musk’s DOGE disclosed that thru USAID or NED, USA created Russo-phobia.
Trump wants to end the Ukraine war, regardless. War benefits MIC incl Pentagon. Trump 1 .0 once said somebody in Pentagon does not like him. It means a war does not benefit Trump’s camp. Hence, NATO enlargement does not interest Trump. This … aligns with Russian interest well.
Trump wants to economically “colonise” Ukraine. Putin wants to occupy Crimea & 4 other industrial Ukrainian states (in whole or in part). … aligns well for both Trump & Russia.
Trump boosts up US oil production. Since Russia is a member of OPEC+, Trump may need cooperation from Russia to control global oil price. … perfect alignment.
There is speculation that Trump may want to sow discord between Russia & China. I personally do not think Trump as a businessman will do so, because Russia & USA have different interest in China.
Arthur Ford has revealed the secret of where our loved ones go! They are still alive!!!
Has your friend ever given you advice that turned out to be meaningful?
I have this friend who married a few months before I did. She immediately got pregnant the next month.
I was excited for her as this would be a first baby in our girls gang.
She had a difficult pregnancy. She missed my marriage and my reception because of the total bed rest she was advised.
She delivered a baby shortly after. I visited her during my next trip when she said,
“Shefali, take all the time you need to have a baby. Get to know your husband. Go on trips. Enjoy life before you settle down with a baby. A baby takes up all your energy. And if there is no proper understanding between the spouses, it would be a disaster. So take your time.”
At that time I just listened to what she said. All I could think what disaster can a small cute baby create? But I nodded and accepted her advice.
Well turns out she was right. A baby does drain you out and if you are not compatible with your spouse then it’s really difficult.
I am glad I took her advice. It was practical and meaningful.
[REDACTED]
Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Make a mysterious message an important part of your story.… view prompt
C. J. Peters
Xander [REDACTED]
FIELD AGENTS:
AGENT B. XXXXXXX (Level D7)
AGENT G. XXXXXX (Level F1)
DOCUMENT 1A (SUPPLEMENTAL)
SOURCE: Journal belonging to James
August 20 – Today we found out that me, Austin, and Marie all ended up in Mr. Mahoney’s class!! Sucks that Austin’s gonna be moving at the end of next summer but at least we all get one last school year together. We’re already making plans to go the arcade every weekend and we’re gonna have a sleepover at my house next Saturday. I’m so pumped!
It’s gonna be weird when he’s gone. We basically grew up together. We gotta make this year really awesome. Do something none of us will ever forget! (And maybe he’ll finally make a move on Marie – if I have to watch them not-so-secretly make googly eyes at each other for another year I’m gonna barf)
DOCUMENT 1B (SUPPLEMENTAL)
SOURCE: Excerpt from The PXXXX Post, local newspaper
STRANGE LIGHTS SEEN OVER [REDACTED] FOREST
By Steven JXXXX
August 27, 19XX
A curious array of lights was seen hovering over [REDACTED] Forest by at least seven locals the evening of Saturday 24. While accounts vary, there seem to have been at least five white lights spinning in a concentric circle nearly 25 feet over the treetops. One local, who wished to remain anonymous, had this to say:
“I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I mean, sometimes, the kids, they like to throw parties out there, you know, especially in the summer, with bonfires and flashlights and those sorts of things. But that, that I’ve never seen before. And they were gone as quick as they showed up! Just, a blink, and it was just the stars again. Whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than two minutes. But, yeah, it was certainly odd.”
The forest has long been a place for the teenagers of [REDACTED] to blow off steam, but it’s not the first time something peculiar has occurred near those woods. Older residents of [REDACTED] might recall the summer of…
DOCUMENT 1C
SOURCE: Journal belonging to James
October 21 – We still haven’t decided on our Halloween costumes. Austin and Marie want to go as Star Wars characters, but I only want to do it if I get to be Luke, but Austin wants to be Luke and Marie wants to be Leia (which ew gross it’s like they don’t remember Return of the Jedi at all!) and Austin is refusing to be Hans Solo. I wanted to go as the Ghostbusters, but Marie says they’re lame and super old (like Star Wars isn’t basically a decade older!) and Austin says we’d be short one and it’d look weird.
Whatever.
Anyway. There was a new kid in class today. Weird time for her to start. Her name’s Xander. Weird name for a girl. I guess everything about her was pretty weird. She was quiet and kept making like really intense eye contact whenever anyone talked to her and was constantly writing in this super thick binder.
At the start of lunch no one was talking to her anymore. She was sitting alone and still scribbling in that binder, glancing around at everyone. I felt kinda bad for her. It’s hard being the new kid, especially if you’re the weird new kid.
Austin didn’t want me to at first, but I asked Xander if she wanted to join us and Marie for lunch. She slammed her binder closed as soon as I got near her table and then stared at me the whole time I spoke. Her eyes are very green and very pretty. She just stared and stared, and I was starting to blush and I was about to just leave when she suddenly stood up and walked over to our table and sat in the empty spot beside Marie. She definitely spooked Marie (because she was busy staring at Austin – gag) who yelped and that made Austin laugh, but they both smiled at her.
I sat beside Xander, and we had a chill lunch. Marie complimented her binder and offered to give her some of her star stickers to decorate it, and that made Xander smile, probably for the first time that whole day. She has a very cute smile. She kept making Austin laugh with her weird questions, but he always answered them nicely. Like, she had never heard of Oreos before, but he still gave her one to try. She shoved the whole thing in her mouth and just absolutely could not chew through it, and that made Austin laugh until he cried. Then we started debating the best way to eat an Oreo (Austin splits them to eat the cream first, I dip them in milk, and Marie eats them dry ‘cause she’s nuts). I’m gonna bring a whole box tomorrow so Xander can try them each way and break the tie.
Xander’s for sure a little strange, but no one in our group is really all that popular. I think she fits right in with us.
DOCUMENT 1D
SOURCE: Journal belonging to James
November 2 – Halloween was AWESOME!
Me and Austin argued about Luke and Hans until like three days before Halloween, and I was gonna freak ‘cause we were running out of time, but then Marie suggested the Ghostbusters again and said we should invite Xander! We were both down ‘cause I really like we all really like her, so we asked her the next day at school. She didn’t get what we were talking about ‘cause they apparently don’t have Halloween in her old town, (which, bummer) but when we explained how it works and she got super excited! (I mean, about as excited as Xander ever gets which kinda just means she nods, like, a LOT).
Marie’s mom made all the costumes for us super last minute and they looked AWESOME (Mrs. VXXXXXX, you rule!) but since we took so long to decide we couldn’t make proton packs BUT we wore our backpacks instead, and that ended up being way better because we were able to fill them up with so much more candy! We hit every house on our streets, AND the nice streets on the other side of the town! Xander didn’t get as much as us, though, ‘cause she left her binder in her bag, but whatever. Still a killer haul!
After, we went to the forest to trade like we do every year and we brought Xander. Austin and Marie sat on one side of our clearing (probably, like, giggling or whatever) so me and Xander sat together on a big rock on the other end so they could have some “privacy” (barfbarfbarf). She was quiet like she always is, but she was also staring up at the stars. It was a pretty night. The leaves had fallen off a lot of the trees, so the ground was crispy and orange, and we got a super clear view of the night sky. It was a full moon, too. Kinda made me wish I’d gone as a werewolf.
I told her I like the stars too, and she smiled at me in a way that made my heart feel like it was gonna barf. We talked about space and stuff, and she pointed out her favourite star, and said it was probably her favourite spot in the whole universe.
And then, I don’t know why, but I told her I was glad I met her. I almost sprinted home. But she said she was glad, too. I said cool, then she said cool. I couldn’t look her in the face, but it was cool.
I gave her all my single packs of Oreos, and she gave me all her gummy bears.
DOCUMENTS 1E-F REQUIRE MINIMUM LEVEL C3 CLEARANCE
DOCUMENT 1G
SOURCE: Journal belonging to James
December 20 – Christmas break is coming up. Marie’s going to visit her family up in [REDACTED] for a few days like always, but Austin’ll be staying the whole time this year. We promised Marie we wouldn’t go skating on the lake till she got back, but Austin and I are still gonna go sledding and build a snowman! Last year, we had to get his dad had to help us, and the snowman ended up taller than him, but we’re gonna try to go even bigger this year!
I don’t know if Xander has plans. I didn’t ask ‘cause I thought it might be weird, but I still wanted to get her something for Christmas. I almost psyched myself out of doing it when I saw her at school this morning. She seemed nervous about something. Like, she kept fidgeting with her binder and looking out the window into the parking lot.
She must’ve been really nervous ‘cause when I tapped her shoulder, she almost hit the ceiling, but when she saw it was me, she laughed. I immediately forgot all of what I’d planned to say and just shoved the Christmas card at her. She read it, and then took out the polaroid my mom took of the four of us in our costumes on Halloween.
Xander’s face can be so unreadable sometimes. She just stared at it for a while, and I thought I fuc screwed up and pissed her off or something. I was gonna apologize, but then she hugged me. Really hard (she’s like, freakishly strong). It lasted a really long time, and I got the heart-barf feeling again and I didn’t really want to let go but I hugged her back.
I felt like I could fly all the way to space.
I did glance at the parking lot to see if there was anything weird out there but all I saw were cars. I mean, there was one really nice, expensive-looking black car that sorta stood out against all the old trucks and soccer-mom vans. But, whatever. Maybe it’s a rental.
DOCUMENT 1H REQUIRES MINIMUM LEVEL D1 CLEARANCE
DOCUMENT 1I
SOURCE: Art assignment for [REDACTED] School, completed by Austin
The class assignment was to draw a scene of a happy memory with at least two figures and full scenery. The drawing above depicts a daytime winter scene of a frozen, outdoor lake rendered in graphite and coloured pencils. Four figures are skating together. Figure A (presumed to be Austin) holds hands with Figure B (Marie), while Figures C (James) and Figure D (Xander) skate behind, also holding hands. Each figure has a happy expression and wears well-detailed winter attire.
Final Grade: A-
DOCUMENT 1J
SOURCE: A birthday card
The image above is of a birthday card with a pale pink background and a white unicorn coated in iridescent glitter taking up three-quarters the space. The words “Happy Birthday” are written in flourishing cursive in the upper left-hand corner.
The interior of the card is blank except for a handwritten message done in cursive. The message reads as follows:
Thank you for inviting me to your birthday party. I hope the 100-pack of variety sparkle stickers and 3-piece Lisa Frank notebook collection are satisfying and enjoyable gifts.
Marie, I value our connection cherish our friendship more than words can say.
I wish you nothing but the happiest birthday!
Xander
DOCUMENT 1K
SOURCE: Note written by Xander
Austin, Marie, James
I’ve got to go. I would like to say goodbye in person, but I’m not supposed to.
I’d like to always remember the night we captured spectral entities and bartered sucrose Ursidae together. I wish I could be with you all under the light of a lunar cycle which had reached its fullness one last time.
My time here with you guys is something I’ll never forget. You made it special. You made it important. I’ll miss you all.
X
DOCUMENTS 1L-N REQUIRE MINIMUM LEVEL F3 CLEARANCE
DOCUMENT 1O
SOURCE: Journal belonging to James
May 14 – I haven’t seen Xander in two weeks. She just stopped showing up to school. I don’t know what happened. None of us know where she lives, I don’t know what I might’ve done, we have no way of finding her. I’m really starting to freak out.
She was getting really anxious about… something, right up until she disappeared. She was always watching the parking lot at school and at the diner. Maybe it’s got something to do with that weird car?
I just hope she’s okay.
The following entry is presumed to have been added later in the same day.
I’m definitely freaking out now. I found a note folded in the front cover of my journal and it’s from Xander!! I don’t know how long it’s been in there, and I didn’t get most of what she said. I just thought she was saying goodbye, but Marie thinks it’s a secret message. It took us a while, but now we think Xander was talking about when we were in the forest on Halloween, and the whole “lunar cycle” thing is about the full moon, and Marie checked – there’s one tomorrow night!!
We’re all gonna go. I’m not missing a chance to see Xander one last time, if it really is gonna be the very last time.
DOCUMENT 1P
SOURCE: Journal belonging to James
UNDATED. It is presumed this entry follows the events of May 15, 19XX.
We found her. Xander explained everything. Guess I’ve got no choice but to believe her after what we saw. She left her binder behind. She said I could have it. I promised to keep it safe. It’s covered in Marie’s stickers, and she slid a bunch of Austin’s sketches under the plastic. A copy of the polaroid of us on Halloween, too.
We planned to meet up at the diner on Saturday. I’ve started looking inside and there’s some wild stuff in here. More notes for me, for Austin and Marie. Some notes and writing I don’t totally understand, either…
Maybe if we figure it out, we can see her again. Maybe it’ll all mean absolutely nothing. I don’t know.
But we’ve gotta try. There’s gotta be some reason why she left it for me.
I promised. I’ll keep it safe. I’ll figure it out. I will see her again.
DOCUMENT 1Q
SOURCE: Confidential field report from Agents B. and G.
FIELD REPORT FROM THE OBSERVATION AND DEPARTURE OF SPECIMEN X4ND3R, CASE XXXXX
NOTE: Agent G. has made the executive decision as highest-ranking agent on case to henceforth refer to [REDACTED], self-named “Xander,” as SPECIMEN X4ND3R for the purpose of record keeping.
PURPOSE OF FIELD MISSION
With the evidence of [REDACTED] craft likely to land in [REDACTED], OREGON again, Agents B. and G. were sent out to location to observe at distance and with minimal interference the possible reason for recurrent contact. Once in location, Agents B. and G. determine purpose of contact to be for retrieval of SPECIMEN X4ND3R.
The following report details the event of contact, noting time, place, and interactions and behaviours between figures present. Figures include SPECIMEN X4ND3R, and locals of [REDACTED] recognized as James SXXXX, Marie VXXXXXX, and Austin LXXXX.
DETAILS OF EVENT
Agents B. and G. arrive at location with [REDACTED] craft already present and camouflaged as expected. SPECIMEN X4ND3R arrives at location at approximately 22:36HRS on MAY 15, 19XX. Agents remain unseen.
At approx. 22:58HRS, James, Marie, and Austin arrive. All run to and embrace SPECIMEN X4ND3R. All begin talking rapidly at once.
NOTE: [REDACTED] equipment malfunctioned when Agent B. attempted to use. Agents B. and G. were unable to record or hear conversations without breaking distance protocol.
SPECIMEN X4ND3R takes control of conversation, speaking for approx. 2 MINUTES 13 SECONDS. Austin and Marie share shocked expressions, James shakes head in dismissal. SPECIMEN X4ND3R turns away from group to face [REDACTED] craft. After approx. 3.4 SECONDS of silence, [REDACTED] craft comes out of camouflage. All members of group wear expressions of disbelief. SPECIMEN X4ND3R turns back to group. James speaks for approx. 57 SECONDS. All members of group, including SPECIMEN X4ND3R, now teary-eyed or crying.
All members join in embrace with SPECIMEN X4ND3R in center. Group contact lasts approx. 23 SECONDS. Marie and Austin break away from group. James and SPECIMEN X4ND3R continue contact for approx. 13 SECONDS.
SPECIMEN X4ND3R exits contact and enters [REDACTED] craft. Remaining members run approx. 10 YARDS from [REDACTED] craft and observe ignition, liftoff, [REDACTED], and exit, waving during entire process.
CONCLUSION
Agent B. concludes integration between [REDACTED] species and humans possible and likely. Despite limited time on Earth, SPECIMEN X4ND3R exhibited and experienced camaraderie, sentimentality, empathy, kindness, and generosity.
Agent G. determines results of event may be skewed due to age and location of participants. Further experimentation required.
Fully detailed report to follow in three days with photographs enclosed within.
Following signatures from,
Agents B. XXXXXXX and G. XXXXXX
ADDENDUM INCLUDED MAY 19, 19XX 11:29HRS BY AGENT G.
During clear-out procedures Agents B. and G. witnessed James, Marie, and Austin in possession of thick binder, with James reading sections quietly to group in local diner, [REDACTED]. Agent G. believes binder previously belonged to X4ND3R and must be retrieved with urgency. Clear-out procedures halted as Agents B. and G. determine how to retrieve documents with minimal damage.
END OF DOSSIER ONE OF X
Why do some people seem to be able to sell anything? What is their secret?
Let me introduce you, this is Joe Girard.
A few facts about Joe Girard
:
- He is a car salesman in America.
- Joe Girard managed to sell 13,001 cars, throughout his 15-year career as a salesman. That means he sold an average of 2 cars a day.
- In 1973, he received an award from the Guinness Book of World Records as the salesman with the most sales, namely selling 1,425 cars in one year.
And the cars he sells are ordinary cars, not supercars like Lamborghini, Ferrari, Koenigsegg or the like.
When someone wants to buy a car from Joe Girard, they have to make an appointment well in advance due to his busy schedule.
It is really the opposite of salesmen in general, who actually chase consumers and persuade them to buy their products.
So what is Joe Girard’s secret? Does he use charms that enhance his charisma and charm? Does he bribe his customers to buy cars from him?
Early in his career, Joe Girard consistently kept in touch with potential customers without trying to sell anything .
A survey shows that salespeople will usually stop contacting their hot prospects when they show no intention of buying in the 2nd or 3rd meeting.
But not with Joe Girard.
Not only is he consistent in staying in touch with his potential buyers, he also tries to build a friendly relationship with all the hot prospects he has.
Which means that in every meeting Joe has with his clients, car sales are not the main topic of conversation. But the conversation that occurs is like old friends chatting with each other.
Joe Girard was also very active in sending greeting cards to all his potential buyers. In fact, when his name had skyrocketed, he even had to hire an assistant to help him write letters.
Imagine, a salesman hires someone else to help him write letters!
What Joe Girard did made him a trustworthy person , and automatically made him someone who would always be on the minds of his
hot prospects when they wanted to buy a car.
That’s the secret to selling anything.
Shrimp Etouffee
Yield: 4 servings
Ingredients
- 2 pounds medium shrimp, shelled and deveined
- 1 medium onion
- 1 bunch green onions
- 1 small bunch parsley
- 1 can tomato paste
- 2 tablespoons canola oil
- 2 cups water
- Salt and cayenne pepper to taste
Instructions
- Dice the onions and scallions.
- Chop the parsley. Hold the parsley separately.
- In a medium pot, add 2 tablespoons of cooking oil (your choice)
- Once the oil is heated, add the onions and scallions. Glaze the onions and scallions.
- Once all are glazed, add 2 cups of water and the tomato paste. Stir until the paste is dissolved.
- Lower the heat to a constant simmer for 35 to 40 minutes. Stir occasionally and add water if needed.
- Add salt and cayenne pepper to taste.
- After simmering, add parsley and simmer for 15 minutes.
- Add shrimp and lower the heat for an additional 20 minutes. If the sauce looks too watery, you can dissolve 2 tablespoons of flour in a little water to a pasty consistency and slowly stir in.
- Serve over rice and/or corn bread.
What is going to be the China response for Panama not renewing the understanding agreement with China after Marco Rubio’s visit?
Well, Panama signed the MOU with China in 2017 under the auspices of the BRI initiative.
What is a Memorandum of Understanding?
It is an expression of intent, and in diplomacy, a formal declaration to facilitate future cooperation in defined areas.
It is also non legally binding.
It is the year 2025 and the MOU has not led to any BRI projects in Panama. Unlike MOUs, contracts are legally binding.
In other words, the US has successfully blocked BRI implementation in Panama for the last 7-8 years.
Marco claiming victory in forcing the MOU’s withdrawal is merely taking credit for work he didn’t do.
The Panamanian leader is also trading an empty shell for a PR and diplomatic win with the Americans.
It’s no loss to Beijing, though we may see Panama flip flop and return to recognizing Taipei as China, a position it maintained as recently as 2017.
We shall see.
What is the United States’ stance on using military force to protect Taiwan from Chinese invasion? If they do not intervene, what factors could prevent China from invading and taking over Taiwan?
This is unlikely.
First, let’s consider the worst-case scenario: nuclear war.
Would the United States engage in a mutually destructive nuclear war with China over Taiwan? I don’t think so.
That would only delight Russia and the EU.
The issue is that the Chinese people might be willing to accept a full-scale nuclear war to reclaim Taiwan, while the American people likely wouldn’t.
Of course, this possibility exists, and I think it’s not insignificant.
Because China recently conducted a rare test launch of a 12,000-kilometer-range missile, launched from a land base on an island that had just suffered a typhoon, it might be a demonstration of our ability to launch a nuclear counterstrike from any location and under any circumstances (e.g., after a nuclear strike).
Second, China’s state television aired a rare news segment introducing the country’s national-level underground nuclear defense system—a 5,000-kilometer-long “Underground Great Wall” built into mountain ranges.
While many Chinese people vaguely knew about such a massive project, this was the first time the government publicly showcased parts of it.
If we set aside nuclear war and only consider conventional weapons, the U.S. has advantages but also disadvantages. The biggest disadvantage is that the U.S. needs to maintain a global military presence, while China focuses on homeland defense. Additionally, the level of commitment from the two nations’ populations to this war is completely incomparable.
To be honest, if it comes to reclaiming Taiwan, China’s navy and air force could immediately replenish personnel losses with even greater numbers. Ships and planes could be reproduced at crazy pace—money would no longer matter at that point; it’d be all about maximizing capability.
Personally, I think it’s unlikely that a war would break out over Taiwan.
Taiwan is highly likely to be peacefully reunified.
If some Taiwanese people disagree?
I think they could be offered a sum of money to buy out their assets in Taiwan, given a plane ticket to go wherever they want, and if they later change their mind, they could come back.
Maybe your perfect memory only functions with memories created while in this body? That would explain why you don’t have the full memories of previous lives.
I understand that I, or rather my Mantid Prime, designed and planned this incarnation. It’s all pre-ordained, how can a life here not be?
If ALL lives here are basically scripted, who else has the right to write them but ourselves?
It’s difficult to comprehend our non-incarnate self’s decisions while alive. When we’re between bodies, and absolutely sure that we are immortal consciousnesses, planning some future hardships for ourselves might seem fun and interesting. Rather than tedious and f***ing annoying while we are alive and experiencing them.
I’ve thought long and hard about this and my Mantid often kindly reminds me that is my easiest life ever, so I’m fully capable of enduring it. My previous lives were usually quite short and ended abruptly with some sort of moral choice, which would end me. Just like the one where I died to save my woman and daughter. I believe my Mantid Prime messed up with that one. Dying in wars is one thing but dying for love is another. I cherish that entanglement and it’s the reason I am alive! In a way it didn’t mess up as that enabled whatever plan and contract I have with The Domain this life.
Accepting that our incarnate self’s pre-birth decisions are definitely for the best is a novel skill I’ve been developing.
My friend and I are both weary of this kind of ignorant incarnate existence. I’ve done this (unfortunately) many times but this might be her first. I believe her to be Domain and likely a volunteer to incarnate here. How awesome a consciousness does that make her? Very. very awesome I think!
Thanks for those personal insights, Feal. Fascinating stuff, really. Given what we’ve learned about the nature of this Reality Universe (and the Mantids’ assigned roles by the Old Empire forces) from the Domain, and the confirmation from them that “Alien Interview” was pretty much authentic in the more important aspects, the only question I’d have regarding your post above is about this part:
“Accepting that our incarnate self’s pre-birth decisions are definitely for the best is a novel skill I’ve been developing.”
My question being: for >>whose<< best?
And that's something I've been thinking a lot about lately, myself.
Coincidentally?
Probably not.
I recall reading something similar wrt what the DC answered during the earlier set of Domain Q&As that you organized, Metallicman. That you– Metallicman– chose your life pre-birth, and a whole lot more about your– and most human beings’– quantum construction in addition to that. A very large data dump, that was. Much if which I’m still thinking about and applying. I read that Classic (wink wink!) Index loads of times, and remember clearly. Somewhere around the time of the Mades Escapalion reveal, or perhaps a few posts later. You expressed much surprise with a dash of consternation then, too! But perhaps that was offset by some of the positives you as Robert V. definitely received from the overall arrangement. I remember you/and the DC clearly expressing that angle also. (As well as learning a whole lot more about myself and my subconscious motivations.)
Just yesterday I had a – what it seems like to be – a significant dream – and the only thing I remember about it is the essence of it, me saying ” … And where is the sauce?!”
Even if it seems that our memory is not perfect, it is just the same as reading a book – the story unfolds as you read but everything is already there.
Very well put, thanks for that. Past present and future, too. All together in the same package waiting to be unpacked and explored for those who turn away from the Mirror of Vanities (Black ones, or otherwise) and dare look within, instead. Memories and Mind Palaces, they need to be guarded vigilantly against all distraction. And increasingly so in the Age if Madness.
Your Book analogy is definitely a keeper. Very original, and like all good analogies, captures it perfectly 👍. And more than a few chapters I wouldn’t care to reread.
You are not the only person suspecting the DC might be lying.