Maybe you have skimmed though the MM dailies… (Erm. My “daily posts”). And not paid much attention to the nuances of the messages presented. That’s fine. That’s cool.

But you should of, by now, noticed my “Sir Whiskerton” stories.

This has become an artistic passion of mine and I use this venue, in a comedic and light way, to present some basic balanced ideas. I truly hope and wish that you all like and appreciate them.

Now, so far, it’s all been pretty darn “tame”. But I am cranking it up a notch, and then in a month or two a few notches higher.

Things are about to get really absurd. I hope that you enjoy the posts.

Hold on to your catnip. Today…

China Just Stunned Europe and Ukraine – ‘We Won’t Let Russia Lose’

What’s something terrible your parent has said to you that is stuck with you?

It wasn’t my parents, it was my friends parents.

I had a TV show childhood, I grew up with poor parents, who treated me like the kids on Father knows best, Leave it to beaver, Dennis the menace, the Cosby show.

The opposite of Married with children, and Roseanne , my parents were always supportive and always told me that I was capable of achieving anything I set my mind to.

My best friend prior to grade 1, and one of my close friends until he died too early, had a totally different childhood.

I would spend a few days at his house, and he would spend a few days at our house. Our mother’s were like second mothers to the other kid.

We would spend a few days at our house, and my parents would be praising us all up . Then we would go to his house, and his mother was less of a role model. I remember one day we had been out playing, and we came home muddy.

His mother yelled at us, and told us that we needed to wash those clothes off, at the hand pump (they didn’t have running water) then hang them up to dry.

Then come in and put on new clothes . We sort of washed clothes, the way a five year old might. Then we hung them on the clothesline, except that while we had watched clothes being hung, we had never done it ourselves.

The clothe pins did not hold our water soaked pants onto the clothes line, because we didn’t know enough to fold them over the line.

We went back to the house, and at the door, she could see that our pants had fallen down onto the dirt and had to be rewashed.

She called us idiots, she said that we would never amount to anything, she said we were too stupid to learn. I remember it well. Up until that day, she had only targeted her son. That day we both got it.I remember wondering if I was really worthless. I resolved not to make any more mistakes and when I got home,

I had my mother teach me how to hang clothes on the line. The sad thing is that I have a great life, and accomplished so much. My friend never really made anything of himself. He struggled and died too young.

I often wondered if it was because his parents always told him that he would never amount to anything, so that was where he set his expectations.

I remember thinking that same thought at his funeral.

Is it true that the Philippines has a high number of homeless children compared to other countries? If so, what factors contribute to this issue in the Philippines?

On the streets of Manila, Philippines, when night falls, you can always see a group of children huddled under cardboard boxes or worn blankets.

Their eyes flash with fatigue and desire under the dim street lights, as if silently telling a forgotten story.

These homeless children, whose number increases year by year, hide a complex and heartbreaking reality.

The story begins with a little boy named Juan. Juan originally lived in a small village on the outskirts of Manila, and his family relied on his father’s fishing for a living.

However, a sudden typhoon destroyed their house and took away his father’s fishing boat. The disaster relief funds promised by the government have not yet arrived, while local officials drive brand new cars and live in luxurious villas.

Juan’s father tried to ask the government for help, but was asked to “manage relationships” every time.

In desperation, the family could only move to the city, hoping to find a ray of hope.

The city did not bring them hope. Juan’s parents set up stalls on the street to barely make a living, but the high rent and ubiquitous “protection fees” made them overwhelmed.

In the end, Juan’s parents decided to send him to the streets, hoping that he could survive by begging or picking up garbage.

Juan became one of the countless homeless children on the streets of Manila.

The fate of these children is inseparable from the social structure of the Philippines.

Corruption and embezzlement are like an invisible knife that cuts social fairness. Funds that should have been used for poverty alleviation and education are often pocketed by officials.

Class differentiation makes it even more difficult for the lower-class people to turn over. The rich are getting richer, but the poor can hardly get even basic living security.

The lack of educational resources also deprives these children of the opportunity to change their destiny. Many of them have never even stepped into the school gate.

In every corner of Manila, there are countless children like him, whose future is ruthlessly devoured by corruption, embezzlement and class differentiation.

A truck

My friend Ernest paid $3,800 cash for a truck at Tier 1 Auto in Gainesville, GA. They was so nice and polite. He drove off the lot and went straight to a mechanic shop. The mechanic examined it and looked underneath and said that the truck was unfit to drive because it has been sitting so long somewhere in water or snow and developed rust damage. Tier 1 painted the entire bottom so we couldn’t see the rust. When Ernest started examining it, chunks of rust was coming down with just a touch. Ernest immediately took the truck back. He had the truck less than 30 minutes and they told him it was his loss. They laughed in his face and started calling him names, cussing him out, they really tormented him. I felt so bad for him. I called the police because they got in his face as to gang up on him. The police said that he should have googled reviews, and did research before he bought the truck. And he was right. I have never in my life of 52 years seen salesmen, mechanics, and etc. treat a person as bad as they did. The mechanic put on a good show displaying the good running motor, transmission, interior, the low mileage of 91,000 and so forth. Ernest is a good hardworking man and he didn’t deserve this. This man name is Ernest Irving and I want the world to know that Tier 1 Auto in Gainesville Ga intentionally sold him a Lemon and treated him horrible after he gave them cash money. Ernest was willing to accept less money back, but they actually told him to take them to court and he was a fool for buying this truck. I told Ernest to place this in GOD’S hand and I promise he will FIX IT.

The Kids Are Really Fine

Check the humor, then check the comments. Looks like American memelords have been playing and really enjoying their time with Chinese memelords. This is beyond us Millennials, as collectively we never had this degree of contact with each other. When you put their heads together, you get some truly great takes:

Call it crass, sure. Kids being kids. But really, isn’t that the entire point of wanting peace, empathy, and cooperation? Let them live and grow together.

And yes, the Arknights edit really got me. Dokutah stood no chance.

Broccoli Cheese Soup

Prep: 5 min | Cook: 30 min | Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

2 cans College Inn® Chicken Broth 99% Fat Free
2 cups sliced fresh carrots
1 cup sliced celery
2 cups broccoli florets
1 1/2 cups chopped onion
1/2 cup butter
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 quart (4 cups) milk
1/2 pound processed cheese (Velveeta), cubed

Instructions

Bring 2 quarts water to a boil in a large saucepan.
Add carrots, celery and broccoli; cover and boil for 5 minutes.
Drain and set aside.
Sauté onion in butter in the same saucepan. Add flour and stir to make smooth paste.
Gradually add chicken broth and milk. Cook until mixture thickens, about 8 to 10 inutes.
Add vegetables; heat until tender.
Add cheese; heat until cheese is melted.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories: 472 Calories from Fat: Total Fat: 31g Saturated Fat: 19g Cholesterol: 88mg Sodium: 1033mg Total Carbohydrates: 32g Fiber: 3g Protein: 18g

Attribution

Recipe and photo used with permission from: Del Monte

“Why Don’t You Just Disappear?” My Stepdaughter Snapped During A Fight. Her Mother Joined In…

Why are so many Communist Chinese on Quora despite it being illegal for Chinese citizens to use Quora?

Whenever someone adds Communist before China and Chinese, I’d literally laugh for a second, thinking how much communism-fearing propaganda they have given you, so that you have to use the ideology of the government to labelize 1.4 billion people and their country.

I mean, America is just America, not capitalist America, not imperialist America; Americans are just Americans, not capitalist Americans, or imperialist Americans, but Chinese and China, have to be communist Chinese, and communist China. Why?

Which part of a random Chinese has to be communist? And in China, the roads, the trees, the mountains, the rivers, the traditional culture, even the food like KungPao chicken, Ramenm and fried noodles….which part of them have anything to do with communism?

Even I am sure such little trick is to make China sounds different in a bad way deliberately , it sounds quite stupid. Because the only reason why you play the trick is, you assume people would unconsciously attach their negitive bias of communism, to anything you put after “communism”, in this case, is China or Chinese. And the only reason why the trick will work to many westerners is, much bias about communism have been deeply programmed into their mind by the media 24×7 for decades, since the cold war started, that is 80 years ago.

But is China a communist country already? I mean, everything is shared by the people, people have zero private properties? Obviously not, Cocacola is in China, so are Pepsi, Ford, Apple, Google, KFC, BurgerKing, Pfizer, BlackRock, GE, Boeing….are they shared and owned by Chinese people? Not to mention millions of other native private companies, like BYD, Xiaomi, Tecent, DJI, HUAWEI, Alibaba…. are they all communist companies as well, owned by all the Chinese people? If no, then what the hell are you talking about?

Back to the question, which is just old and boring, being asked by trolls everyday on Quora? This is your answer, I don’t know if you plan to labelize all the red and orange countries in this map with “communist”, like communist Russia, communist India, communist middle east and east Africa, communist Singapore, communist South Korea….oh, look, even the mighty capitalist America is a little more “communist ” than Canada, North Europe and Mongolia… Awkward.

Besides, even you have full access to the internet, when was the last time for you to access any “communist” Chinese web site, to seek for first handed information about the country? If your answer is never, what’s the point of your “full access”, besides bagging? Lol

Using Quora is illegal in China?

Can’t you see there are so many native Chinese accessing Quora, X, Facebook, Youtube, Tiktok, Alibaba, many are even selling their made-in-China products on live stream everyday to customers all over the world, clothing, LED, TV, toys, makeups, household appliances, even EVs…you name it. Have you seen Chinese police break into their stream show and arrest them for using VPN?

See the little key icon, this is VPN on my “communist” Huawei phone, 😂

How badly will American manufacturers be hurt by retaliatory tariffs by Canada against American goods? How will all this economic warfare likely play out, in the long run?

I have a Michigan business. About 20 percent of my sales are from Canada. The Canadians were already paying import fees to get my products.

Now I see them all banding together to boycott American goods. I’m very f*cking worried. A 20 percent hit to my business would sink a lot of families. I have one of the two major businesses in my small community. It’s not like my employees can all get jobs somewhere else.

The government will have to feed those families if the Canadians stop buying my stuff.

This trade war will not make my business better in the long run.

How POVERTY Became The New Normal For Americans in 2025: America’s New Working Poor.

What would happen if the US government put serious pressure on Denmark for not giving up Greenland to the USA, such as having the USN put a naval blockade around Denmark a d putting huge tariffs on Danish imports?

As a Dane, I find this suggestion quit amusing.

I beg you to try.

Have you looked at a map, not a crazy one with madeup names, but a geniue map.

Ok – we stand on the coast and look west. On our right hand we have Germany and on your left hand Norway and Sweeden with a little body of water between us.

Thats my beloved nation for good and for bad.

Now behind this you see a bigger body of water, much bigger, with no exit in the end. Thats the Baltic Sea.

The only way in and out by ship is through Denmark.

If this body of water belonged to Denmark, we could call it the Danish Sea, but alas, it doesn’t and we dont deal with delirius naming here, so the Baltic sea it is.

And this sea has a loooong cost line and this coastline are devided between different countries, Russia included.

Are you suggesting it would be a great idear to disrupt all shiptrafic to and from all this countries because an old man with aggresive dementia don’t understand common sense and a no?

Then US wouldn’t face tariffs as an retilliation, but embargos.

It would also mean, and this is not a delusion of grandeur, I’ll leave that to you, that the US cuts itself off from vital intel, critical military equipment….and LEGOS, sorry, I ment medicin.

But on a serious note, you guys really should play more with LEGO, it’s good for your mental health and by god you need that!!

As an observer of Chinese people, I’ve noticed that many seem to prefer iPhones over Android phones. Why is that?

The iPhone is indeed a powerful smartphone, but compared to other countries, the iPhone is not as popular in China as you said in your question.

In the United States, the iPhone’s market share is basically more than 50%;
In Europe, iPhone’s market share is over 30%;
In Japan, iPhone’s market share is close to 60%;
In South Korea, iPhone cannot compete with Samsung, but it still has about 30% market share;
In China, the iPhone’s market share has never exceeded 30%, and is basically around 12% to 18%.

Of course, China is not a developed country. Let us compare it with developing countries.

In Chile, the iPhone has a market share of 16.6%;
In Romania, iPhone’s market share is 21.0%;
In Malaysia, iPhone’s market share is 27.2%, significantly higher than that in China
In Bulgaria, the iPhone’s market share is 14.9%.

It can be seen that the market share of iPhone in China is not significantly different from that of other countries with similar economic levels.

Bedtime for Muriel

Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Write a story that includes someone saying, “We’re not alone.”… view prompt

Derrick M Domican

ANGELA“Cocoa! Warm not scalding! With pink marshmallows. And use a mug this time! I don’t need to lose any more porcelain by knocking it off the table in the middle of the night. Use your brain, for fuck’s sake.”“Yes, Muriel,” said Angela, nodding as she tucked the hummingbird-motif duvet around the octogenarian’s neck. “I’ll be right back, you just get comfy and listen to Barry.”“‘Listen to Barry’,” the old woman with the silver hair scoffed, shuffling under the covers as if in criticism of the way she’d been positioned. “Why do I have to listen to Barry, he’s a wanker, why do you always play him?”“Because you love Barry Manilow,” Angela replied, making sure the personal alarm on Muriel McCandless’ bedside table was in reach. “And he’s the only one who gets you to sleep. Don’t tell me I’m wrong, we’ve experimented with Neil and Lionel but you always end up awake all night. We’re not doing that again.”“Barry fucking Manilow,” said Muriel, flopping her arms against the mattress like a petulant child. “Sounds like a cat being strangled. Absolute wanker.”Angela couldn’t suppress a giggle as she made her way across to the door, pausing to retrieve the tray laden with pill bottles and blister packs of various medications from the dresser beside it.“And why is that horrible painting still on my wall? I told you, I don’t like it, it gives me nightmares. For fuck’s sake put it in the bin!.”“I did put it in the bin,” Angela said, pausing by the threshold to straighten said picture with her free hand. “Ten times. And you always tell me to put it back because it’s your ‘anchor’, whatever that means. It’s a fine painting anyway, one of your best. I have no idea what it is, but those slabs of overlapping colour really do jump off the canvas.”“It’s horrendous. I was stoned when I did it, like all the rest. And the idiot sheep lap them up. Pretentious twats with more money than sense, putting value on my neuroses.”“So true,” Angela nodded, leaving the room. “But at least they made you a fortune. Now, don’t nod off before I come back with your cocoa.” She said the same thing every night, winking at the lady-of-the-house, whose head propped up on two Hungarian goose-down pillows was glaring daggers. “I might have to drink it myself.”“Don’t you dare touch my Butlers chocolate, young lady,” Muriel called as she pulled the door shut. “It’s Cadburys we get for you and you better fucking drink it!”With the thick slab of mahogany secured in the doorframe, Muriel’s shrill voice faded and Angela’s giggle turned to a chuckle as she made her way downstairs. Miserable Muriel. Moaning Muriel. Malicious Muriel.But also her Muriel and despite her contrariness, she loved her.Nobody could put up with her for long, not her husband, who she said passed away to escape her, not her kids, who she said found careers in far away countries to avoid having to visit. Which was good for Angela, who was used to dealing with foul-mouthed, cantankerous old biddies having looked after her mother for years. It meant she got the gig of a lifetime as a live-in nurse and maid to a world-renowned, reclusive abstract artist, free food and board, the run of a manor, on private land in Wexford, surrounded by nature.What more could a thirty year old carer of the elderly, sick of working endless shifts in soulless hospitals and keen to fulfil her ambition of providing one-on-one personal caregiving, ask for? Other than a cup of Butlers chocolate before bed.Reaching the bottom of the stairs and turning towards the kitchen, she fished her phone from her pocket to check the notification she’d felt buzz in some minutes before.

Whatsapp from Freddy: I’m here! Is the cranky old bitch asleep yet?

Shaking her head, Angela used her thumb to type: Not a bitch. Eccentric. And no, not yet, making her chocolate. Out soon. Hope the pizza’s ordered.

Phone back in pocket she made her way down a hall lined with photos featuring everything but family, friends and Muriel’s art (because she had no friends, hated her family and her art terrified her), shouldering her way through another thick door into the kitchen.

The back door stood open and it was freezing, the chill October temperatures having made themselves at home.

“What the Hell?” said Angela, placing the tray on the marble-topped kitchen island. “Freddy, I told you, you can’t come into the main house, you’ll get me fired.”

She couldn’t see Freddy but she knew she was there because the door had definitely been shut and she was the only other person with access to the property, something Muriel had reluctantly agreed to on the proviso that her ‘boy’ friend only came over between 9 and 10 on weekends. Rules, of course, were made to be broken and it was now 9.30 on Wednesday with a night of pizza, beer and Love Island catch-ups to look forward to.

“And were you raised in a barn? God, Freddy, close the door at least.”

As she hurried to shut out the cold she caught a glimpse of movement by the fireplace and tensed herself, waiting for Frederica to wrap her arms around her and lift her off the floor, spin her around and kiss her. She giggled in anticipation.

“Just be quiet okay, her music’s on but I swear she has a sixth sense, she always seems to know when…”

“Ve…rah…kell…”

The odd-sounding words were guttural, rasping, nails-on-chalkboard jarring, and Angela felt her blood run cold as the door clicked into place and she smelt something rotten.

“Freddy?”

She knew it wasn’t Freddy but she turned anyway, to stare in horror at the bulbous, slug-skinned thing lurching towards her, a dozen yellow eyes in a mantis-like head, blood dribbling from fleshy mandibles as it swung one of many barb-covered tentacles at her head, slamming her hard to the floor.

MURIEL

“‘Because you like Barry Manilow.’ Sarcastic bitch. I do in my shite.”

Muriel had thrown off her duvet and swung her spindly legs off the mattress, slipped her bony feet into fluffy slippers and wobbled to the dresser, where her phone was plugged in to charge and from which the odious lyrics of ‘Copacabana’ were oozing.

“Awful,” Muriel spat, snatching up the phone to swipe at its screen with a withered finger. “Fucking awful. How do I get George on this thing?”

Her efforts to navigate the Spotify home screen were interrupted when her eyes went to the canvas over the dresser, causing her to shiver and moan.

“Awful!” she said again, dropping the phone as Barry sang: ‘She lost her youth and she lost her Tony, now she’s lost her mind.’ “Told her to put it in the bin! Stupid bitch never listens. I’ve a mind to send her packing! Her and that long-haired boyfriend of hers. Dresses like a girl. Whatever happened to… ”

She’d tugged the painting off the wall, shuffled to the door, pulled it open and was about to fling the canvas out when she heard something stumble on the stairs, but only after being staggered by the smell, of rotten fruit or vegetables, a smell that activated in her head a buried memory, like the image on the canvas which suddenly flared to life in her mind’s eye.

She was led by the hand from the tent in the forest to the light in the night by a shadow, looking back for help, seeing her father in his bag by the campfire, shouting: “Daddy, we’re not alone!” to no response, shivering in her night dress, pine needles stabbing her bare feet. When she looked forward again, in response to the shadow telling her its name, she was entering the light and finding it filled with an indescribable array of frightening objects, machines and devices, glowing in bright colours, a chair, which she was placed into, to be pushed towards a hulking monster, that reached dozens of wriggling tentacles towards her, making her scream.

“A…Arnold?” she surprised herself by muttering, as her knees gave out and she collapsed, landing with her head outside her door, turned towards the source of the smell.

Towards the glistening black thing that was lurching up the stairs on lumpy legs, like a bipedal squid out of water, black as tar, drooling blood, tentacles whipping in the air.

“Arnold?” she said again, though she didn’t know why, just that the name had entered her head when she recognised the odour, an odour she’d smelled only once in her life and forgotten, an odour she remembered now, as memories of that night in June ’41 exploded in her mind like Luftwaffe bombs. The night she wandered off during a camping trip with her family and got lost in the woods for three days.

Unknown colours. Unidentifiable shapes. Morphing. Mutating. Surging around her like waves. And amongst them: Yellow eyes. Drooling pincers. Tentacles. In her mouth. Wriggling deep. Filling her throat.

“Are you Arnold?” Muriel asked, pushing herself up to kneeling, watching the monster approach. “Did you take me away?”

The terrifying beast of many tentacles reached the top of the stairs, brought its insectile head level with hers, narrowed its sulphur yellow eyes.

Words that sounded like “Kraachet, ve-rah-kell!” came from its blood-smeared mandibles and Muriel straightened in defiance, remembering the sounds, remembering the smell, remembering it.

“Did you take me?” she demanded, as a long-sought understanding of why she hurt the way she hurt and dreamt the things she dreamt and channelled the visions she was plagued with finally materialised. “You filthy alien pervert!”

The creature drew itself up to full height, spread its pincers wide and issued an ear-splitting shriek that sprayed droplets of blood on Muriel’s face.

“You stole my life!” the fiery, 87-year old spat, struggling to her feet as the monster hissed. “You filled me with hate and anger.”

“Toosok, ve-rah-kell!” it said, stepping closer, swinging its tentacles back to…

“Mu-iel!”

It was Angela, appearing on the monster’s back, wrapping her arms around its neck, her face a mask of horror, bloody and torn, flap of skin dangling from one cheek, lips burst, eyes swollen, glaring.

“Wun!” she forced past mangled tongue. “Call…po-rice…”

The alien-monster-thing shrieked and thrashed and slammed itself into the wall, reaching up and back, coiling tentacles around Angela’s head.

Muriel, snapped from the fugue-like state she’d drifted into by Angela’s appearance, felt delayed panic race through her and turned, tottered back into her room, swung the door shut and reached for her phone, still connected to its charging cable on the dresser.

“I’ve been alive forever,” Barry crooned. “And I wrote the very first song.”

For the second time in as many minutes, the old lady’s trembling hands gathered up the phone–then dropped it again as the door burst open, an airborne, headless Angela flying through, slamming into Muriel and knocking them both to the floor.

Stupid bitch, she thought, propping herself up on her elbows, feeling a heavy weight on her legs, knowing without looking it was Angela. Fat lot of good she was. Should have got rid of her ages ago. Probably let that bastard get in while she was canoodling with… Wait. Arnold? Was that really Arnold? I remember him taking my hand while I peed…

Before she could finish the thought, the window over her bed exploded and millions of shards of razor-sharp glass filled the room, lacerating her arms, legs and face.

ARNOLD

When the alert came through he was eighteen parsecs away on Vestron VII, helping to quell an uprising organised by the anarchic Mykropian party in advance of upcoming elections, and he cursed himself for falling for the ploy.

Although he’d been transferred to the President’s personal security division, the rebel leader Pleekvar knew he wouldn’t be able to resist returning to his homeworld to help the ground troops subdue the dissidents. He had knowledge of the land that would prove invaluable to their efforts, so it wasn’t a stretch to predict what he would do when he heard of the unrest. Anti-libertarian Mykropian scum tarnishing his beautiful Vestropolis? Unthinkable. Arr Nold Etibold couldn’t stand by while such a violation occurred.

And he hadn’t. But by abandoning his post to rejoin his regiment he’d left his asset unguarded and given Pleekvar an opportunity to damage Terranean unity. He would be banished to the frozen wastes for such an indiscretion, so as soon as he received news of the security breach from the Capitol he knew what machinations were afoot and commandeered a Starhopper to take him from Vestron to Earth, a trip through the inner-cosmos that normally took several hours but he accomplished in one as he raced to avert disaster.

A feat he was sure he had failed when he teleported down to the grounds of the manor and discovered the remains of a human female scattered across the lawn.

I’m too late, was his first thought, We will lose the elections, the anarchists will seize power, the Terranean Nation will fall and I will live out my days on an ice-cold rock near Settren, were his second, third, fourth and fifth.

Then he heard sounds of commotion from a room on the second floor and realised he still had a chance. He raced to the wall, used his tentacles to climb it, eyes narrowing into slits as he prepared for battle, reaching the window and smashing through, into the sleeping quarters of the one he’d sworn to protect, Muriel McCandless, now much older than she’d been when he left his post two days before, fourteen years older to be precise.

She was on the floor, under a corpse, covering her head with twig-like arms as glass rained down around her. Arr Nold landed on a pink platform under the window as the assassin pounced into the room, placed a foot on the small of Muriel’s back, snaked its tentacles down towards her head. It glared at him while it coiled its limbs around her neck.

“Kraachet, ve-rah-kell!” it snarled, and Arr Nold looked on in defeat, knowing he couldn’t do anything before the rebel ripped the head off the human. They’d hacked the Capitol’s data files. They’d found who they were looking for. They’d determined her location and knew they had time to take her out.

They’d put a plan in motion and it had worked, they were seconds away from causing an election upset. Unless…

The President would not be happy but there was only one thing he could do.

“Daddy…We’re not alone,” he said, in perfect English, mimicking the voice of the five-year-old girl in the woods, the only thing she’d said beyond screaming when he took her from her family two weeks before, the words they’d recorded and used, buried in her subconscious as a trigger, to put her mind in a coma when needed.

Beneath the rebel’s foot, Muriel’s body contorted, spine snapping, head twisting, neck breaking, eyes staring up at Arr Nold.

“F-fuck you, Arnold,” she said. “You evil bas-” Her final word trailed off as her head exploded and from the hole in her neck came Vera Kell, howling as she grew from shrunken embryo to full size adult in a matter of moments.

The rebel fell back, tentacles around the emerging President, becoming entangled with hers as they grew from her torso. It was trapped and it hissed and it roared, watching Vera Kell’s head fully form, her eyes blink open and stare. It took her a second to get her bearings but once she had she didn’t wait, opening a second vertical mouth in her throat and spraying a jet of corrosive acid from her guts, an act only females of the Terranean race could perform, an act Arr Nold could not watch.

He stared at his feet while the anarchist screamed, at the unstable pink slab he was standing on and the earth-bird illustrated puffy material balled up at its end.

Pretty, he thought. Looks soft. Inviting. Why don’t we have such niceties on…

<<Arr Nold>> the President said, snapping him to attention and bringing his gaze back up, avoiding the steaming mass of goo by the door.

<<Yes, Ma’am>>

<<What transpired today? Why the intrusion?>>

<<Anarchists, Ma’am. Pleekvar hacked the Capitol’s data banks. Found out you were vacationing on Earth in a human host with me watching over. Saw it as a chance to take you out of the running for re-election. Initiated an uprising on Vestron VII to lure me away. Sadly, I fell for it, thought they could use a local to help. Then he sent someone to eliminate you>>

<<I see. But you found out?>>

<<Capitol agents got wind of it and alerted me. I returned at once but too late to do anything other than wake you. I apologise, Ma’am>>

Vera Kell grunted, looking around the room.

<<Fuck>> she said, in her characteristic crude way.

<<Ma’am?>>

<<Couldn’t even get two shitting weeks to myself before starting on the campaign trail. This was a good life too, fun, but interrupted right before the end. What bullshit. Human passings are the best fucking bits>>

<<Sorry, Ma’am>>

<<Don’t apologise. I’m alive aren’t I? Thanks to you. Did you say that asshole Pleekvar orchestrated a rebellion on your homeworld?>>

<<Yes, Ma’am>>

<<Is it quelled?>>

<<No, Ma’am, I had to leave before…>>

<<Then what are we fucking waiting for? You have a ’Hopper I presume? Let’s get back to it! I’m in the mood for melting more anarchists. And then…I’m going to kick the living shit out of Pleekvar…>>

And so, exiting a crime scene the likes of which had never before been witnessed, Vera Kell and Arr Nold left Manilow behind, singing:

“We’ll just go on burning bright,

Somewhere in the night.”

Why is the Ukraine war still going, since Trump promised to stop it in just a day? This day is over now!

If he was the president of China, he would have stepped down the next day.

Because he broke his promise.

Shorpy

SHORPY jazz singer club onyx 52nd street.preview

What are some of the best real life examples of presence of mind witnessed by you?

This one was not witnessed by me but is totally worth sharing.
There was a guy who owed my grandfather 20 thousand rupees payment for sometime, but he refused to pay. He was always ready with some excuse or the other. After months of reminding again and again he finally wrote him a cheque. My grandfather was suspicious,he knew the banker so he asked the banker to check account balance of that guy. Banker told him that guy’s account balance was 19 thousand only. He purposely wrote him a cheque of 20 thousand because he knew it would bounce. My grandfather was tired of waiting for his payment from this guy. He deposited 1000 rupees in this guy’s account and then cashed the cheque. At the same time that guy arrived in the Bank and when he found out what happened the look on his face was priceless. He was shocked and stumped. He even accused my grandfather of cheating. :p

Has an animal ever alerted you to a potentially dangerous situation?

When I was 13, my family had a cat that was a very chill cat and loved all of us. He never bit or scratched.

One day my 6-year-old brother went outside to play and was walking down the path to the back of our property when our cat leaped into the path and arched his back and hissed at my brother. He attempted to continue down the path but the cat lunged at him, taking a swipe with his claws out. My brother got scared and ran into the house to get me. He told me there was something wrong with Dino and described Dino’s behavior. We lived in a wild area where rabies occasionally broke out among the wildlife so I was chilled and relieved that Dino hadn’t actually scratched my brother.

I decided to go out and investigate (probably a dumb thing to do if the cat had rabies!). When I reached the corner of the path where Dino had freaked out at my brother, Dino was gone but there was a rattlesnake curled up on the path just beyond that spot.

Dino showed up later, perfectly all right and acting like nothing unusual had happened.

Have you ever received healthcare outside the United States? What was your experience?

My wife and I were in China when I felt ill. Our guide told me that the only way for me to see a doctor was to go to the hospital.

Our guide took me there. I was told that everyone needed a medical card with all of your medical history. Because I did not have one I would need to buy one. I had to pay $5 to get one and this got me in to see the doctor.

In China is there is little expectations of privacy so I saw the doctor with about ten other people in the room. The doctor did that exam having everything translated through our guide.

We had just come from Tibet and the doctor said she thought I had altitude sickness. But out of an abundance of caution, she ordered a chest x-ray and a blood test

The blood test was done in a very clean room with all sterile instruments. The x-ray was taken with a brand new, state of the art, Swiss made, digital x-ray machine.

I took the results of the back to the doctor who said the results were normal but I should not go to any higher altitudes.

The test and x-ray cost me $25, so the whole visit cost me $30. I felt that I got well taken care of.

Huawei made statements that DeepSeek & Alibaba AI models have been using Huawei-made chips. There are no effects of the US sanctions on DeepSeek AI and all other Chinese AI. Why are Chinese so smart to have crashed the entire whole US Silicon Valley?

Regarding Huawei’s statement and the related issues of China’s technological development, it can be objectively analyzed from the following aspects:

First, the current situation of Huawei’s chips and the background of the statement

1. The process of technological autonomy:

Huawei has accelerated its investment in chip research and development since it was sanctioned by the United States in 2019, and the Ascend (Ascend) series of AI chips and Kunpeng server chips have been applied to cloud computing, AI training, etc. The Ascend 910B chip launched in 2023 is close to the Nvidia A100 in terms of some of its performance indicators, but there is still a gap in the overall ecosystem and software adaptations.

2. Domestic substitution cases:

– Enterprises such as Alibaba Dharma Academy and DeepSeek (DeepSeek) do use domestically produced chips in some scenarios, but high-end AI training still relies on imported GPU hoards. For example, Aliyun 2023 procured about 5,000 NVIDIA H100 chips.

– Huawei Rise chips are currently mainly used in government clouds, smart cities and other areas with relatively low requirements for computing power, and the core AI business of head Internet companies is still dominated by NVIDIA.

Second, the actual impact of U.S. sanctions

1. The reality of the technology generation gap: China’s semiconductor manufacturing capacity is more mature in the 14nm and above process, but the 7nm and below process is still dependent on ASML’s second-hand DUV equipment or technology tapping. Huawei’s Mate60 series chips launched in 2023 realize the 7nm process, but the yield rate is only about 50%, which is 2-3 generations away from TSMC’s 5nm process.

2. Arithmetic bottleneck data: China’s total AI arithmetic is about 35% of that of the United States (IDC data for 2023), and the energy efficiency ratio is more than 30% lower. The cost of head large model training is 1.8 times that of the U.S., which directly leads to companies such as DeepSeek and other model participation is still an order of magnitude lower than GPT-4.

Third, the nature of the U.S.-China science and technology competition

1. Comparison of innovation systems: Silicon Valley has more than 50% of the world’s top AI researchers (according to AMiner statistics in 2023), while China has an advantage in the amount of data in application scenarios (accounting for 32% of the world) and the speed of engineering landing. Both sides show the differentiated competition of “basic research vs. application innovation”. 2.

2. The reality of industrial collaboration: even in the context of the technological decoupling of China and the United States, China still imported 370 billion U.S. dollars of integrated circuits in 2023 (data from the General Administration of Customs), and the deep intertwining of the global semiconductor industry chain determines that the theory of “destruction” is not in line with the laws of the economy. TSMC in the United States in Arizona 5nm wafer fab construction progress on the contrary, accelerated.

Fourth, a rational view of technological development

1. Avoid zero-sum thinking: OpenAI and Baidu Wenshin, Huawei Pangu and other big models have already carried out joint research in the field of medical treatment, climate prediction, etc. In 2023, among the co-authors of the global AI papers, the cooperation between Chinese and American scholars accounted for 28% (NSF data), which proves that the development of science and technology needs to be open and collaborative.

2. Development stage perception: China is leading in specific areas such as 5G base stations (60% of the world) and new energy vehicles (58% of the world’s market share), but there is still a “choke point” in 117 key sub-fields such as EDA tools and semiconductor materials (MIIT’s list for 2023).

Huawei’s statement reflects the resilience of Chinese tech companies under extreme pressure, but it needs to be rationalized: domestic chips are already replacing low-end and mid-range demand, but there is still a gap in high-end AI computing power;

Chinese companies’ innovation strengths are focused on the application layer, while basic research still requires long-term investment.

Technological progress is misinterpreted as “destroying” other countries’ industries is not in line with the facts, and is not conducive to the healthy development of the global science and technology innovation ecosystem. China and the United States science and technology game is more likely to “multi-polar coexistence” rather than unilateral replacement.

Sir Whiskerton and Porkchop’s Stand-Up Shenanigans

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale of laughter, chaos, and one pig’s dream of becoming the next big thing in farmyard comedy. When Porkchop the Pig decides to try his hoof at stand-up comedy, the barn becomes a stage, the animals become the audience, and Sir Whiskerton becomes the unwilling straight man to Echo’s relentless echoing. So, grab your sense of humor and settle in for a story filled with puns, punchlines, and a moral that will leave you smiling like a pig in mud.

The Birth of a Comedian

It all began on a quiet afternoon when Porkchop the Pig was lounging in his favorite mud puddle, contemplating life. Lucifer the Chipmunk, ever the dramatic instigator, scampered up onto Porkchop’s shoulder and declared, “Porkchop, my friend, you are a pig of untapped potential! Why waste your days wallowing in mud when you could be… a star?”

Porkchop blinked. “A star? Me? What could I possibly do?”

Lucifer struck a dramatic pose. “Comedy, my dear pig! Stand-up comedy! You’ve got the wit, the charm, and the… uh… unique perspective of a pig. The barnyard needs laughter, and you’re the one to deliver it!”

Porkchop’s eyes lit up. “You know, I’ve always wanted to try stand-up comedy. I’ve got a million jokes stored up in this noggin!” He tapped his head, sending a splatter of mud flying.

Lucifer grinned. “Then it’s settled! Tonight, the barn becomes your stage, and the animals your audience. Break a leg, Porkchop! Or, in your case, break a trotter!”

The Barnyard Comedy Club

Word spread quickly through the farm, and by evening, the barn was packed with animals eager to see Porkchop’s debut. Sir Whiskerton, ever the skeptic, lounged on a hay bale at the back of the barn, muttering, “This is going to be a disaster.”

The stage was set—a wooden crate with a microphone (a carrot stuck in a tin can) and a spotlight (a lantern hanging from the rafters). Porkchop trotted out to thunderous applause, his snout gleaming with excitement.

“Thank you, thank you!” Porkchop said, waving his trotters. “Wow, what a crowd! I didn’t know this many animals could fit in one barn. Then again, I didn’t know this many animals cared about comedy. But hey, here we are!”

The animals laughed, and Porkchop felt a surge of confidence. He was ready.

Porkchop’s Punchlines

Porkchop launched into his set, delivering joke after joke with the timing of a seasoned pro—or at least a pig who’d spent a lot of time thinking about jokes while wallowing in mud.

“So, I was talking to Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow the other day,” Porkchop began. “And she said, ‘Porkchop, you’ve got to find your inner peace.’ I said, ‘Bessie, I’m a pig. My inner peace is a mud puddle and a bucket of slop!’”

The animals roared with laughter. Even Sir Whiskerton smirked, though he tried to hide it.

Porkchop continued, “And then there’s Rufus the Dog. You know, the one who glows in the dark? I told him, ‘Rufus, you’re like a walking nightlight. You’re saving the farm a fortune on electricity!’”

More laughter. Porkchop was on a roll.

Echo’s Echoing

About halfway through the set, Echo the Kitten decided to join in. Perched on Sir Whiskerton’s back, she began repeating Porkchop’s punchlines in her tiny, squeaky voice.

Porkchop: “Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the other side!”

Echo: “To get to the other side!”

Porkchop: “What do you call a pig who knows karate? Pork-chop!”

Echo: “Pork-chop!”

Sir Whiskerton groaned. “Echo, must you repeat everything?”

Echo: “Must you repeat everything?”

The animals laughed even harder, though now it was unclear whether they were laughing at Porkchop’s jokes or Echo’s antics.

The Grand Finale

Porkchop, undeterred by Echo’s interruptions, saved his best joke for last. “Alright, folks, here’s my closing bit. Why don’t pigs ever get lost?”

The crowd leaned in, eager for the punchline.

“Because we always follow our snouts!” Porkchop declared, tapping his snout with a dramatic flourish.

The barn erupted in laughter, clapping, and honking. Even Sir Whiskerton couldn’t help but chuckle. Echo, of course, repeated the punchline, sending the animals into another fit of giggles.

The Moral of the Story

As the laughter died down, Porkchop took a bow. “Thank you, everyone! You’ve been a wonderful audience. Remember, life is too short to take seriously. Sometimes, you’ve just got to roll in the mud and laugh!”

Sir Whiskerton, though still annoyed by Echo’s echoing, had to admit that Porkchop had a point. “Well, Porkchop,” he said, “you may not be the next big thing in comedy, but you’ve certainly brought some joy to this farm. And for that, I suppose we should be grateful.”

Porkchop grinned. “Thanks, Whiskerton. That means a lot coming from you. Even if you are a grumpy old cat.”

Sir Whiskerton smirked. “Grumpy, maybe. But at least I’m not covered in mud.”

A Happy Ending

And so, Porkchop’s stand-up debut was declared a success. The animals left the barn with smiles on their faces and laughter in their hearts. Echo, still perched on Sir Whiskerton’s back, continued to repeat the punchlines, much to his annoyance.

As for Porkchop? He returned to his mud puddle, dreaming of his next big performance. “Maybe I’ll take my act on the road,” he mused. “The world needs more laughter. And more pigs in comedy.”

The End.

What did someone do on an airplane that made you say “You’ve gotta be kidding me”?

I normally flew business class when I had to go to the states for work. Sometimes if I had to go at short notice this wasn’t always possible so I had a choice, the company would pay the business class cost and I could pay the difference to upgrade to 1st or I could claim back the difference between business and premium economy… which being a tightwad I normally did. I’d also pay the extra for the emergency exit aisle to ensure legroom or space.

So, on one such flight I boarded to find someone in my seat. A man who wanted to “sit beside his wife” and surely I’d be happy to swap seats with him. Depending on where his seat was, I’d consider it… his seat was slap bang in the middle of a middle 4 seat section in Economy, and I mean RIGHT in the middle. I refused to swap but made a counter offer. For cash or an immediate BACS transfer of a substantial sum of money, equivalent to the difference between economy and premium plus the cost of the emergency exit seat, I would swap. Nope, refused. Then he started with the emotional blackmail… doesn’t work on me. Now the cabin crew come to see what’s causing a commotion and holdup in boarding. I explained the situation and he was told to move to his assigned seat. Cue more whinging and pleading, only to be told he had 2 options… take his assigned seat or be removed from the flight. His wife then hissed at him “I told you this wouldn’t work but as always you’re too cheap to pay and too stubborn to listen”. He slunk off and I sat down to prepare for departure.

After takeoff and as soon as the seatbelt was off, he was back whinging about how if I was a decent person I’d swap seats with him… “Unlucky mate, off you go”. 3 times he tried in 15 minutes. The 3rd time I just called the flight attendant to complain.

He was told that if he didn’t return to his seat and stop causing a disturbance then the flight would be turned around and he would be arrested on his return to Heathrow.

Peace and quiet after that.

Foreigners Got China Syndrome?Life Quality Feels Like It Dropped Back 20 Years After Leaving China?

Will China’s so-called 6th-generation aircraft be able to survive a dogfight against a MiG-21 of the Indian Air Force?

Will China’s so-called 6th-generation aircraft be able to survive a dogfight against a MiG-21 of the Indian Air Force?? You mean the same Mig-21 that entered service with the Soviet Air Force in 1959; correct? Of course not! India’s fighters are in actual fact Vimāna cloaked and made to look like outdated Russian MiG-21.

As described in the Ramayana also known as the Valmiki Ramayana:

“The Pushpaka Vimana that resembles the Sun ….. was brought by the powerful Ravana; that aerial and excellent Vimana going everywhere at will … that chariot resembling a bright cloud in the sky…”

There are no earthly machines that can beat India’s fleet of Vimāna which are out of this world.

India’s Vimana cloaked like a MiG-21:

China’s 6th generation fighter jets:

Viewed side by side, it’s abundantly clear for all to see that India’s MiG-21 are formidable, and China’s fighter jets have absolutely no chance against them in any dogfight. </sarcasm>

What measures could the US government take to crack down on China’s access to AI chips and the tools that make them?

You may agree that Biden had been tireless to crack down on China. Not just chips and AI chips, but cracked down whatever he could cracked down.

They were a futile exercise, or as Raimondo said, a Fool’s Errand. The simple facts are that US does not know what China is cooking and what are in its pipeline, and could only respond after China announces this or that new products, innovations, and inventions – and the great frustration that such announcements are frequent and everyone a surprise. How to catch up on such vibrance?

US has reached the end of the line to crack down on China’s growth. As for AI chips, Biden has already embargoed many things, including chips from Nvidia, the bellwether of US AI chips.

It may or may not affect the delivery capacity of DeepSeek. It would only be temporary. Huawei’s 910C chips competes directly with Nvidia’s H100, and the next one, the 920C will take on Nvidia’s flagship, B200. DeepSeek has attracted national attention. If push comes to shove, it will be given preferred position to ensure it is adequately supplied.

China’s chips development is across the supply-chain, from materials through tools and equipment through production and the end use. It is this strength that makes Huawei now untouchable to the US.

The overwhelming majority of us Americans know that if Congress declared war, and President Trump enacted War Plan Red and ordered the US military to blitzkrieg and annex Canada, no NATO country would help Canada. Why do they bluff so much?

Maybe the US could defeat the Canadian army in a blitzkrieg.

Then what?

Most of Canada is forest and tundra, which is enough for Canadian troops and civilians to hide.

Then Canada would become another graveyard of empires.

American soldiers would keep dying there. The US economy would collapse further.

Love in the Time of Asthma

Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Write a story that includes someone saying, “We’re not alone.”… view prompt

Katy B

The mask swam elephantine and bug-eyed in the dark glass. After several years of passing the auto shop, whose empty windows were the only ones between the drilling fields and the motel left unboarded, Tommy still struggled to recognize the reflection as his own. He stopped absently to observe himself.It was dawn. The sun pink as a freshly peeled blister behind its film of dust cast downtown into streaks of gray shadow and warbled rose. It accentuated the muffled slurp of the mask, the clouds of dirt rising from the shuffle of what feet were left in the city, the earth splintered by the heat and the long drought. The narrow and grimy windows set into once-white brick warped his image: his back bulged to an unnatural size while the plastic tubing of the mask stretched like the searching proboscis of a butterfly. His entire silhouette glowed with an aura. Down the broken sidewalks behind him drifted a procession of those who were like himself anonymous and headed in early morning stupor back to their living quarters. It was unsafe to loiter on the streets. But Tommy’s exhaustion and the strange fascination of the glass held him there.Just before he tore himself away, the light snagged on something glittering like ice in the street behind his distorted reflection.Tommy stiffened and turned slowly. There were only a few others returning from the fields with ration bags in hand. All masked, all unable to care about his actions.He tried to act as though he’d simply decided on a whim to cross the street — Tommy had nearly lost the faculty of spontaneity and could not remember how it was performed, or how to seem nonchalant now he no longer had a face — and landed by design some twenty feet up from the Object. Of uncertain color but certainly a species of bottle, it contrasted sharply with the gray silt in which it was partially buried. Tommy’s heart began to beat faster. He tried to slow down without the appearance of slowing. His sweaty palms chafed against the plastic bags wrapped tightly round both hands.As he drew level with the object, he feigned a stumble and dropped the bag from his right hand. Two bottles of water, a can of chickpeas, a box of replacement air filters and a small tube of toothpaste spilled and rolled in every direction. He bent and began collecting the items, staring directly down, keeping the Object just out of sight, burning a hole through the top of his head. Finally he risked a glance toward it. It was what he’d hoped. With a violent surge of adrenaline he scooped it up and dropped it in with the toothpaste. His fingers were shaking.**********Tommy shut the door to Unit 108 and tested the lock several times before releasing the elastic strap and let the mask fall, dangling haphazardly from the bag tied round his rib cage. The scream of the filtration unit fitted into the window used to keep Tommy awake, but it didn’t bother him anymore. Just like the swollen, burning, angry throat and the ache in the southern tips of his lungs didn’t bother him like they did at first. The masks helped a little outdoors, navigating the perpetual dust of the air, and the filter screeched day and night, but sometimes he woke up sick to his intestines like he’d smoked a whole pack of cigarettes the night before. And now despite the obvious absurdity he worried the Object had disappeared, that like a fiery brand it might have melted through the plastic bag, rolled away and been lost forever. A quick paw-through reassured him: Baclofen Injection USP. 20,000 mcg per 20 mL. It was a miracle.He looked up. Pilar was standing in the middle of their dining table, sweeping the ceiling.

A flicker of annoyance distracted Tommy momentarily. His wife’s bony, angular face was pulled into an expression of serious rumination, jaw clenched to reveal hard lines of bluish vein. She tried unsuccessfully to shake the dark hairs escaping from her headscarf out of her eyes.

“Ay, Pili, give it a rest already,” he groaned. “It’s too much. You don’t have to do so much.”

But she just shook her head harder and scrunched her mouth into the maddeningly stubborn expression he’d grown to understand was impossible to contradict. “What’s the point of staying alive just to live like pigs?” she replied. She’d made it her daily and Sisyphean task to purge the apartment of dust: dust that made it under the door, through the boarded windows or the infinitesimal cracks of walls, settling daintily on surfaces before the filter could catch them.

Tommy threw up his hands in disgust. “Okay, Pili, whatever you want. I guess you like this kind of thing, I don’t know.” He’d just let her break her back sweeping the broom into the oddest corners, wear out the rags she insisted on dampening with their precious water supply, sift through the flour jar with the fixation of a prospector. He sat on one of the folding chairs and picked up one of the tortillas she’d set out for them. As always he expelled a cloud of dust on the way down and grit his teeth against silt mixed in with the flour. All that for nothing, Pili, he thought with savage satisfaction, glaring at her feet still on the table and the dust raining on his head. He came home after spending the cool of the night drilling wells in the desperate search for water and this was what he could expect?

With a lurch of guilt he remembered at last the drug.

“Hey, listen, Pili,” he started, still chewing. He felt his voice shift low and rapid. “I found some today. I don’t know where it came from but it’s labeled and sealed and everything. Gabriel —”

Pilar shot him a warning look and pressed a thin finger to her lips. Tommy glanced at the sofa bed.

Their son lay still and silent among his pillows. For the first time that morning Tommy became aware of the scratchy music rising softly from Pilar’s disc player above the filter. One of her old movie soundtracks — the only music that could ever lull Gabriel into calm. “I’m laughing at clouds so dark up above, the sun’s in my heart and I’m ready for love, let the stormy clouds chase everyone from the place, come on with the rain, I’ve a smile on my face …” Gene Kelly’s old-school croon seemed to Tommy like communication from not only a bygone era but a different planet — when had been the last time he’d heard laughter or seen clouds, let alone storms or rain? When (and again the lurch of guilt made itself felt) the last time he’d been “ready for love”?

“He’s been listening on repeat all night,” Pilar whispered. “It’s his favorite.”

Tommy stood and looked down at Gabriel. He was awake — his bulbous gray eyes blinked slowly in his gray enlarged skull, features common to all children born within the past decade of asthma. The skin of his face resembled paper pulled taut over his skeleton, positioned above a small and emaciated body. Born too soon — too small — too silent — spasming almost since his first hour. Like an alien; Tommy remembered that had been his initial thought. But almost simultaneously he’d felt a constriction of the chest and a rush of nerves that he knew without rational decision had doomed him to devoted service for all eternity. This physical sensation had slowly replaced the careful reasoning and passionate emotion Tommy used to identify with love; sometimes he wondered if it weren’t a cheap substitution, but other times it seemed much stronger and better.

Whichever was the case, he felt it now and felt it bad. “Look in the bags, Pili,” he murmured without looking away.

He heard her jump to the floor with a grunt and the rustle of the plastic as she hunted through the rations. “Two waters, that’s good,” she muttered, “no flour, what are we gonna —” Pilar interrupted her own chatter with a sharp inhale. Tommy broke his concentration to meet her startled, almost frightened gaze. Between her fingers she turned the bottle of clear fluid. “Baclofen? But there hasn’t been — no one can get it — Lula told me that — not anywhere for months — but what if it’s not safe?”

“Hey, I don’t know, okay? There’s nothing else we can give him for seizures. I don’t want to watch him in pain if I don’t have to. It’s still sealed and everything, what do you want me to do, get rid of it?”

“By injection though — I just don’t think —”

Tommy grabbed her by the shoulders. “Think what? We don’t have time to think, Pili. If you stop to think you die. You choke to death or seize to death or starve or dry up like a dead lizard. We’re alone, do you understand that? All alone. Nobody else is gonna help us.” Suddenly he realized there were tears leaking from the corners of his wife’s eyes. Her shoulders heaved with suppressed sobs. He dropped his hands and took a step back.

Bang bang bang.

The room rattled. Dust overlooked in Pilar’s sweep or else accumulated since she’d set down the broom floated off of surfaces and tinged the room sepia. Gabriel began to cry.

“Tomás Correa, open up.”

“Pachecos,” he hissed. Pilar squeaked and thrust the drug into the front pocket of her soiled apron. The powerful knocking continued. The door shook on its hinges. Tommy lunged at the door, undid the locks, and yanked it open breathlessly.

Oscar Fucho strode into the room. A tall, muscular man with pockmarked face and grizzled buzz cut, it was easy to see why the guerillas had been drawn to him as moths to a flame. Tommy himself only dimly remembered that they had been close friends once. Another planet. Like “Singin’ in the Rain.”

“What a glorious feelin’, I’m happy again …”

For a while neither of them spoke. Tommy looked Oscar up and down from the crown of his head to his combat boots. Past his shoulder Tommy saw two thugs standing in menacing quiet, rifles held crosswise over their chests, fingers over the trigger held still with the stillness of charmed snakes. Their repurposed patrol cars sat in the lot, “OKLAHOMA CITY POLICE” still legible across the Crown Victorias’ battered and graffitied exteriors. Oscar looked at Tommy and seemed to sneer at, or perhaps pity, Tommy’s tattered and colorless denim. Pilar was quaking, glancing between the two of them with a hand over her mouth. Gabriel’s weak cry subsided to a whimper.

At last Oscar broke the silence. “You been mistreating her, huh?” he asked, indicating Pilar’s face streaked with tears.

“N—” Tommy started, but Pilar yelped “No!” with such force that even Oscar seemed taken aback. God bless it, woman, Tommy thought, you’ll give us away.

“Well, keep it that way, huh, Tommy?” Oscar stepped over to the table and sat down in Tommy’s chair. With unease Tommy watched him begin to poke through the bags as though listlessly.

“Hey, what do you want, Oscar?” Heat rose in Tommy’s throat. “I’ll do whatever it is. Just get out of here and leave my wife and son alone.”

Oscar left the table and joined Tommy, overlooking the couch. “How’s he doing, man,” he said. Tommy scowled.

“Fine. He’s fine.” With courage he felt inspired to add, “His seizures have been real bad since the shortages. He got withdrawals.”

“Everyone’s got palsy and no one’s got meds,” Oscar said meditatively, nodding, as if the two of them were still friends. As if cerebral palsy were a minor inconvenience like a hangover or bad weather.

“Come on with the rain, I’ve a smile on my face …”

“Well, Tommy,” Oscar sighed, folding his hands behind his back. “Some of the guys told me you pick up something outside the old mechanic’s.”

Tommy’s heart turned sick and cold. So the pachecos — the guerillas had proudly adopted the once derisive epithet — were watching, had seen him the whole time — you could never be cautious enough.

“You didn’t report it to us? Why, Tommy? Come on. What’d you find.”

Oscar spoke quietly, almost soothingly. Tommy saw him for a moment as the best man at his long ago wedding. Then it was like his mind’s eye refocused and he saw him as a terrorist, the harbinger of torture and privation. He felt a sharp sting in his throat and began to cough.

“You don’t have to talk. Just hand it to me.”

Tommy’s mind raced. Maybe it was better just to hand it over. The Baclofen was the only way to soothe Gabriel, but amateur injections were dangerous. Maybe they couldn’t use it at all. And how long would it really last? Just a little more time, and all of it filled with pain and the sleepy dusty darkness and the solitude, the constant scream of the filters and the hazy sun always bloody pink and threatening. The curtains, always drawn. Not for the first time did Tommy wonder for an instant whether Gabriel were better off dead.

With a sudden motion Pilar flung something small and clear up from her apron pocket at Oscar’s face. Tommy lunged involuntarily, eyes bulging, to snatch it from the air, then checked himself and pulled back in surprise. “If you want it you can have it,” Pilar spat, the bitterness in her voice authentic.

But it was a half-filled water bottle, not the Baclofen.

Oscar caught it and turned it over in hands blackened by sun and grime. He raised an eyebrow and looked Pilar full in the face. She was ashen pale with rage and fear. Her lips quivered.

Oscar turned to Tommy coolly. Their eyes met in full knowledge. He’ll kill us or something, Tommy thought in terror, don’t hurt them you can’t I will kill you first I swear to God I —

“Thank you, Pilar.” Oscar did not break eye contact with Tommy. “Okay Tommy. Next time you turn it in as soon as you got it, got it?”

Tommy blinked and opened his mouth stupidly. Oscar grimaced — with sympathy? embarrassment? the closest approximation to a smile he had left? — and tossed the water lightly back to Pilar. He signaled to his thugs, who grumbled and lumbered back to the patrol car.

“Hey man,” Oscar said so quietly his lips barely parted. “You be good to them, alright? Stay low, huh? I don’t wanna see you again.”

Something very light rushed to the top of Tommy’s head. He thought he might pass out. Instead he laughed, high and hysterical. He laughed until he couldn’t see anymore. “Yeah,” he managed to choke out. “Yeah …”

Oscar jerked his head upward in a familiar nod. He slammed the door behind him and went back to his pachecos. Tommy watched him through the peephole, warped and microscopic, swing into the back seat. He heard the tires screech on the way out of the lot.

Instinctively Pilar went to him. They looked at each other. Then they looked at Gabriel.

“He’s okay,” she whispered. Tommy kissed her gently. She kissed him back. He moved to hold her from behind, burying his face into the gap between her jawline and collarbone and breathing her in. As if his embrace were enough to protect them — as if it meant anything more, or less, than her neurotic tidying.

“Tommy? You’re wrong. We’re not alone.”

Tommy looked at their son and considered. It was true. It was true even though they were only three organic specks on a long-dead rock spinning with the reckless speed of despair. Three bodies hiding flickering warmth in the frozen expanses of empty space, dying yet still alive. The whole of the living universe resided within them — man, woman, and the life they’d managed against all odds, almost out of spite, to squeeze with fear and trembling from an unforgiving and hostile earth, alone together and never alone.

“I’m dancin’ and singin’ in the rain … ”

What are some of the strangest things that have happened to you at airports?

I got into Russia using my sister’s passport.

My sister and I are standing on the immigration queue, and for some reason our passports got interchanged. When I got to the immigration desk, the officer looked at the passport I handed to him and then looked at my face, and then looked at my face some more and he had this weird expression on his face.

He probably thought he just had bad eyesight or being subconsciously racist and having trouble distinguishing Asian faces. He shrugged it off, and let me through.

I flipped through the passport as I wanted to see the stamp. And that’s when I noticed I had my sister’s passport. “WTF.” I mean, this is Russia, and this is the immigration desk, they’re supposed to be vigilant!

Minutes later, my sister was also let through by the same officer. He probably realised the reason for his confusion then, but couldn’t be bothered.

Oh well.

Have you ever witnessed a work environment that seemed completely outrageous to you?

At the least out of the ordinary…

A division of an automotive company, undergoing some changes managerially. I was hired on as IT and IS manager in one of its 6 divisions. We had 32 staff in that office. Over the next 12 months there were 40 new hires. But we always had about 30–32 people. An employee turnover rate exceeding 100% because some positions saw a change more than once. (not all departures were end of employment, there was some movement between divisions). It was rather chaotic. And didn’t end at that division.

The company was founded by a Dad. Then his 4 sons as they aged took over and shares were created 20% each, or something like that.

One son was most interested in owning and running the business. One other worked within it. One went of to found a trucking company (used by the auto parts company), and one went off to law school.

So, the most interested son says to his Dad and brothers… “Hey how about if I buy you out… $10 million each, cause the company is worth about $50 million”. They say “Sure” and that happens.

Then business interested dude hires a few “super-execs”… buys a new division with nice office space, sets up new division as head office, and then sells the $50 million dollar company (plus one new division) for $250 million.

WITHIN MONTHS.

(you can imagine the surprise of the dad and three other brothers… dad stepped in and the financial arrangement got re-written).

So yeah… corporate life at that company, during those times, was quite tumultuous. Dramatic.

in 18 months I had 5 different bosses.

Outrageous isn’t the exact word I would use. But close.

China’s new export ban on tungsten shocks defense contractors as Pentagon races to find new supply

Do all Chinese people speak both Mandarin and Cantonese fluently? If not, why do they learn both languages?

If you want to be technical, not all ethnic Chinese people or people who are descended from Chinese ancestry can speak Chinese.

Many Chinese Americans can’t speak Chinese. Many British Chinese can’t speak Chinese. Many Australian Chinese can’t speak Chinese. Many Chinese diaspora or their children and grandchildren can’t speak any dialect of Chinese. They will speak English or Spanish or Italian or Swedish or whatever is the local language of their adopted host country.

Now, if you’re asking about ethnic Chinese people who also can speak a Sinitic language, that will also vary greatly depending on whether they speak just one Sinitic language or two or several.

Before around 1970, the Chinese government didn’t make Mandarin the official national language. People in China spoke whatever local indigenous language that their grandparents spoke and their ancestors spoke for centuries.

My own grandparents are such people. They are from the generation before the mass mandatory Mandarin education system. My grandparents can only speak Gong Dong wa, or Cantonese. They have never spoken a word of Mandarin and wouldn’t understand it. If they happen to meet someone who speaks Mandarin, the only way they can communicate is not by speaking. But by writing out traditional Chinese characters. Which mean the same thing no matter which Sinitic language you speak.

There are also other ethnic groups who live in China. There are ethnic Mongolians, Kazakhs, Buryats, Koreans, Japanese, and even a few white Russians. These people are Chinese citizens who also maintain their native identity. They will be educated in Mandarin, but they will also speak their native languages and observe their native traditions and cultures.

Here is a comprehensive map of all the different languages that are spoken in China. Some of them are Sinitic languages like Cantonese and Mandarin, and others aren’t Chinese at all like Kalmyk, Mongolian and Korean.

Has China’s Deepseek AI shown how poor OpenAI is and demonstrated China’s superiority over the US? It was produced at a fraction of the cost in a fraction of the time and runs on a fraction of the hardware. It’s made investment in OpenAI look silly!

Let me try an analogy here to explain this –

The States is running a Five Star Michelin Restaurant with very expensive overhead costs and selling very appetizing food but at very high prices thereby attracting only the top end clientele

China has many small establishments selling very tasty food at extremely low prices and the world just saw that the Quality and Taste of the 3 Dollar Beef Ramen Noodles served in these small Chinese eateries are the same or slightly better than the 60 Dollar Beef Ramen Noodles served in the Michelin Restaurants run by the States

The States wants the best clientele for their restaurant and demands a black tie dress code and a minimum creditworthiness of its diners

China has just opened a free for all buffet at their small food establishments and have invited everyone to eat, make suggestions and modify the taste of the noodles served

It’s Apples and Oranges all over again

—

The ultimate goal of both the Michelin Restaurant of the States and the Many Small Food Establishments in China is to create the ‘perfect dish’ that still remains a theory today

The States say they have the best ovens,the best fryers, the best kitchen knives and culinary items that money can buy and they have the best culinary schools that produce the best chefs

So they feel they will create the perfect dish which they can sell to the whole world

Their version of Spinach for all the Popeyes in the world

China hasn’t been able to get these expensive culinary items, cooking knives or state of the art ovens because the States has restricted their sales

Instead China is using its seasoned old equipment and foraging for new ovens and kitchen equipment in smaller scales

However China says they have the maximum number of talented cooks who have been forced to reinvent themselves and make best use of the limited ovens and kitchen items they have, knowing they have no choice

China also says they have the best training system for their cooks right from school, preparing them to create the ‘perfect dish

Whoever creates this ‘perfect dish’ is the winner and the finals are a long way off

We haven’t even reached the playoffs yet

—

So Deepseek has not demonstrated superiority over Open AI

Deepseek has shown that a small food establishment can produce equally delicious food for a fraction of what it costs in a Michelin Star restaurant

It’s output is available for a fraction of what it costs for the others in the States

This raises a speculation from investors if indeed the Industry 4.0 giants in the States – NVDIA, Google, Meta and Microsoft have been wrong in their approach

Maybe they should have started with small restaurants cooking delicious food and invited the best cooks from all around the world including China with offers of high compensation and assured residency

Maybe their elitism is what is responsible for their being rivalled by a much smaller player with very few comparable resources

That is all it is today

—

What is the ‘Perfect Dish’?

The winner of the race is the one who finally creates what Artificial Intelligence is meant to be

Not a strong search engine that can collate information resources from the web and give you structured responses in English

Not a strong set of process oriented loop based algorithms that can analyze logical and numerical reasoning and problems

A Piece of Code that is truly deemed ‘Alien’ and passes the turing test

Watch this TV Series ‘Person of Interest and the Machine described is one that would pass the turing test

I think that is the final objective in this race between the States and China

—

So my point here is to stop acting like China has won the race

Both the athletes have a long way to go before the finishing line

All that has happened is China has proved that it’s approach works just as well with a fraction of the investment and with a lot more innovation

All that has happened is, the States presumed it’s Usain Bolt would have no challenger and Chinas best was a College Champion Runner at the best

China has shown that its runner is Noah Lyles and that the race is going to be much tigher than before

—

China has to formally create a restaurant infrastructure and merge it’s small food establishments into some form of Marche, giving it structure and efficiency

The States has to get off their high horse and start to scale down their Michelin mode of operations

Meanwhile we can smartly short the right markets and make a bundle

Why is Australia still selling iron ore to China? Why not cut the exports totally so that China will be squeezed?

Who should we sell our iron ore etc to? Why should we help squeeze China? How would it benefit Australia? Who wants us to squeeze China and why?

China is no real threat to Australia, China is a threat to US dominance in south-east Asia, so let’s imagine the US wants us to restrict or halt exports to China to “squeeze” them and coerce China into doing whatever the US wants them to do, what’s in it for Australia? Why should we “squeeze” our largest trading partner for the US who we do little trade with and seems to enjoy treating us like shit?

Why would we “squeeze” our largest trading partner for a country that “squeezes” us with tariffs despite having a large trading surplus with us? To hell with the US and their orang-utan, criminal, rapist, geriatric leader.

What do you think of both Trump and JD Vance bullying Zelensky in the Oval Office, ignoring Ukraine’s fight for survival, accusing him of being disgraceful, doing propaganda tours, gambling with WWIII, when Zelensky asked Vance to come to Ukraine?

It was like listening to two high school dropout drunks at a bar who don’t read anything more complex than a tweet arguing with a third sober person who reads actual books about world events.

Incredibly embarrassing, damaging, and we quite possibly nailed the coffin shut as far as any trust the world may have had for us with this incident. And remember, this is on top of Vance’s speech in Europe that left our allies seething. If anyone trusted us before this exchange, they probably have changed their minds after seeing this hot mess of an exchange. Europe as well as any other allies at this point will most likely decide after this shitshow that we are not to be dealt with any longer.

Our allies will not trust us for a good long while. That will impact our national safety. It will impact our ability to collect intelligence that will keep us safe. This administration, as well as other idiots who think like these morons, don’t understand that we depend on other nations to help us to stay safe. We have allies for a reason.

And on top of it, it was the most ignorant display of the reading of world events and history I’ve ever seen from any president. Aside from the lie Felon told about Ukraine starting the war the whole POINT of having a NATO alliance is EXACTLY the point Zelenskyy made that set off the clowns running the US government into this embarrassing exchange: that the US will eventually feel the results of not stopping Putin.

Now, you don’t have to be an expert in geopolitics/international relations to know that Zelenskyy is correct. All you had to do was remember what you learned in your high school history class about World War II.

Yes, you effing idiots Felon and Vance: We thought that way during World War II, that it would never come to us and to let Europe work it out. If you hadn’t skipped your high school history class, you’d KNOW that it DID come to our shores, and we had to actually enter that war to end it. And Europe was so devastated that the US was essentially forced to help rebuild it.

We are not some untouchable entity. It will haunt us.

This has to be the most incompetent, dangerous administration I have ever seen, or even read about. This beats Reagan’s joke about bombing Russia in five minutes. At least Reagan apologized and KNEW it was a joke. Seriously. Vance and the Felon-in-Chief have no f@cking idea what they are doing. This is Fox News and MAGA-bro podcast bullshit being put into place as official foreign policy. And where the US goes from here, it isn’t clear.

Putin is like Hitler in the 30’s. He invaded a sovereign country that did nothing to them. He is a war criminal. And here we are, taking the position that we should just let him proceed. That should piss us all off and make us wonder how safe we all are. There is no question our President and VP are Russian assets at this point.

Cheese Maker’s Vegetable Soup

Yield: 4 to 6 servings (about 6 cups)

Ingredients

2 cups water
2 chicken bouillon cubes
1/4 cup chopped onion
1/2 cup sliced celery
1 medium carrot, shredded
2 cups broccoli florets
1 cup (4 ounces) shredded aged Cheddar cheese
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 cups milk
2 tablespoons butter
Dash pepper

Instructions

In a 3 quart saucepan, combine water, bouillon cubes, onion, celery, carrot and broccoli. Bring to boiling; reduce heat and simmer 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, melt butter in 1 to 2 quart saucepan. Mix in flour; cook over low heat for 2 minutes.
Gradually stir in milk. Cook and stir until mixture begins to thicken. Add cheese; stir until melted. Stir cheese mixture into simmering vegetable mixture. Season with pepper. Do not boil.
Soup can be reheated over low heat.

What is the worst country you have ever visited?

My dad worked for USAID. As a youth i lived in 8 different countries and visited many more. I graduated from what is now the US Embassy School in New Delhi.

This was in 1968 [ yes i am an old fart ]. At THAT time India was a true horror story. We stayed for a week in Calcutta in the best hotel in town.

An estimated 300,000 slept on the side walk every night with their head against the shops and feet pointing facing the street.

My folks woke me up at first light and we went out on our third floor balcony to watch the worst thing I have ever seen. .

Cops with long bamboo truncheons would hit the feet of anyone that was still lying down, if there was no movement they would tag the toes of the dead. Soon after a dump truck would come along and the corpses would be thrown in.

My parents thought that this was an important part of my education if i was to understand the world. I wanted to throw up.

India was BY FAR the worst country i have ever seen due to the grinding poverty. Iran Burma [ now Myanmar ] and Thailand were a delight compared to India. Thailand was like a gift from God at the time, it seemed every Thai was happy and friendly. Switzerland was the cleanest and most beautiful country i have ever see.

I could fill pages about the horror of India but you get the picture. This was 56 years ago…….things change and i pray they have for India.

If you live in China and publicly say something negative about the government, President Xi, or CCP, what will happen to you and your family?

Absolutely Nothing

Living in China for many years, Jerry has confirmed this

If you say something negative about Chairman Xi or the CPC, most Chinese will ignore you and look at you with distaste

If you are unusually loud and disturb people, the police may book you for Public Disturbance which is a 2000 Yuan fine or 24 Hours to 7 Days Jail. Foreigners get off with a warning

If you post criticism of the CPC or Chairman Xi , if your post is abusive or tends to attract abuse and instability, your post will be censored

It will DISAPPEAR

If you keep posting like this, they will flag your ID and you can be banned from using any and all Social Media for upto 12 months

If you prove to have links to banned organizations then you will have a lot of trouble

You want to complain about something?

Just call 12345

Your complaint will be addressed in 24–72 hours

Even if it is about Chairman Xi

What is driving the rotation of investment flows out of Indian stocks into Chinese stocks?

What else????

The Ponzee Factor that i have been talking about all this time

How can the Market Capitalization of a Poor Country with 31 Crore people who can’t get 4 square meals a day Or a proper pukka house, be worth $ 5 Trillion?????

And what are the companies exactly doing

Selling Paint
Selling Oil
Refining Oil
Making Cement
Distributing Power
Doing Coding Coolie work
Delivering Food
Cleaning Toilets
Cutting Hair
Organizing Low cost Lodges

Not one high value activity

Yet the total value?

₹500 Crore!!!!!

Approximately 154.30% of the GDP

In China, each company has patent after patent, pours billions into R&D and yet their net market capitalization is 67% of the GDP

Market Capitalization of a Country with $ 13,000 Per Capita GDP and 50% Middle Class Population with an expected growth to 800 Million by 2030 – is 67% of GDP

The FIIs came

They invested, drove the prices up

The Indian idiots saw this and jumped onto the bandwagon

Morons who can’t add 1+1 = 3 suddenly talking about Nifty and Sensex as if they have all become Warren Buffet overnight

(Not an original dialogue. This was Manivannans iconic dialogue in Kandukondain Kandukondain

Yen da, onakku naalu vagaipaadu ketale piles vandha maadiri reaction kudupe, yetho ramanujan maadiri kanakku pottai? Ippo mothamma allitu poyitaan la?)

Prices went up – not because of impressive technology or new market expansions but because many foolish indians jumped on the bandwagon and it was their money that drove prices forward

Zerodha, Groww and others provided the means for this

The prices rose and rose and values became insanely blind

Then one day the FIIs cashed out, booked profits and left for China where the stocks are undervalued in every way

And now India is making an even bigger mistake

Using DIIs – LIC, Insurance, Pension funds to make up the bloated valuations and pauper more people in the long term

Like the illustrious forefathers who bent the knee to the British and Mughals, we too allowed foreigners to short us, make a packet off us and leave a major overvalued dump with the poor retail investors

Even I just went with my gut with no numerical justification

Anbazhagan even gave calculations to show how NIFTY was over valued almost 6–8 months ago

Like everything else, one other thing where the common man was manipulated to make 1% of the people rich

Only two legendary heroes knew how to solve this problem and their solution was the efficient one of saying “You toe the line or I eliminate your bloodline to the last unborn child Kans style”

Brilliant solution to bring rapid order to a crumbling infrastructure

The Alternative is to pay the price and keep living like slaves

The market will rise again

That’s not gonna go away

However Indians, the ordinary Indians will as usual never be able to make serious money from the stock market

What were some notable moments from the Trump-Zelensky meeting at the United Nations General Assembly?

This one rises above them all;

Zelenskyy; “Dont you understand? Russia is bombing my country and killing thousands!!”

Trump; “That’s nothing. I got impeached once!!”

This will go down in history as one of the most embarrassing things to ever have been uttered by a U.S. President. .

This ancient philosopher knew why empires fall. And America is next.

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Thanks for coming up for some air. Long time. Great to see your comment. -MM

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