August 2251
The Orleans Combat Information Center
“Oh, that’s very clever,” Admiral Gauss pointed at two new images that suddenly appeared in the holographic ‘tank’ displaying the exercise. “Captain Wallace brought his task group out of subspace sixteen hundred kilometers above the Mountain View group. Do you see now, people? That’s what I’ve been talking about – that kind of planet bound, two-dimensional thinking is going to get people killed. Now Captain Wallace, he gets it…” The Admiral’s voice trailed off. He was staring across the tank at the Ensign manning the Master Scanning board.
“Ensign Lesk, what is it?”
“Admiral, sir, these aren’t Gellar drives generating this signature. There’s something here I’ve never seen before.”
“What?” Captain Igor Ivanov, the Orlean’s commander, leaped to the scanning console. “They’re Grugell! Three, no, four of the bastards just popped out! ` Der’mo!” In his agitation, Ivanov slipped back to his native Russian for a moment before catching himself. “Call General Quarters!”
Commander Tak Ordell was serving as Tactical Officer for the exercise. Cursing colorfully, he ran to the Signals board. “Raid warning Red! All ships, this is Orleans, four possible hostiles at one seven one positive ninety! This is no drill, say again this is no drill – all ships turn as necessary to unmask main batteries!”
Admiral Gauss’ shout drowned out the Task Group Tactical Officer. “Tell them not to fire unless fired on!”
The Task Force Commander’s order was rendered moot by a sudden blast that shook the Orleans like a rat in a terrier’s jaws. The Tactical Officer was still shouting into the mike. “All ships, weapons free, say again weapons are free!” Commander Ordell dropped the mike, turned to the Admiral. “I think that’s it, sir.”
“I think you’re right, Commander.”
“Three inbounds, sir!” Ensign Lesk had somehow managed to stay on his feet at the Scanning console. “Missiles of some kind, I can’t tell what…”
Admiral Gauss barked at the Group Tactical Officer. “I want projectors targeting those inbounds.”
“Working on it, sir.”
“Admiral, I’ve got to get to my Bridge,” Captain Ivanov called as another blast shook the battle cruiser. “Go!” Gauss shouted back.
The Mountain View
The sudden burst from the Hangar deck announcer almost bowled over the pilots, most of who were pre-flighting their strike fighters.
“ALL FIGHTERS SCRAMBLE, SAY AGAIN, SCRAMBLE. ENGAGE AND DESTROY GRUGELL SHIPS ATTACKING FROM THE NORTH.” North meant “up” relative to the Mountain View’s orientation. Coordinating the mass movement of ships in three dimensions had resulted in a whole new set of conventions.
Andrea Crider leaped into the cockpit of her A-66 in a single bound. Before her Crew Chief was able to roll the crew ladder away, her drive was engaged and the fighter rolling towards the runway. “Hunter Flight, this is Hunter Lead, scramble plan Alpha,” the call came into her headphones as she frantically pulled her seat straps tight.
“Horse, where are you?” she called.
“I’m number four in line, Angel, I’ll form up with you outside.”
A sudden lurch came to Crider through the fighter; the carrier was going through some pretty strenuous evasive maneuvers. Evading what? The question popped into her mind and was almost instantly answered: Grugell. It’s for-real now.
“Hunter Flight, Lead is rolling.”
“Two is rolling,” Crider called into her mike as she slammed her throttle forward. “We’ve got no Shrikes, boss, we’re prepped for an exercise flight.”
“Once you’re out, jettison the laser pod,” the squadron commander answered. “We’ve all got full loads of thirty mike-mike, that’s going to have to do.”
Behind Lieutenant Commander Crider, the rest of the flight called out as they roared down the carrier’s Runway One, through the shimmering force screen and out into space.
“Hunter Flight, this is Lead. We have four bandits, one at three-five-five pos twenty, two and three-oh-one pos fifty, one at zero-one-zero neg ten. Angel, Horse, you take the one at oh-one-oh. Sleaze, Hound, go for three-five-five. Burger, you and me, Rocks and Taffie, take the two at three-oh-one. Heads up for friendlies, VS-24’s launching too.”
“The more the merrier, Goose,” Crider called back to the Squadron commander.
“Goose, is it just me, or am I getting more bandits popping through?” Sleaze’s normally soft voice was raised an octave in surprise.
“Looks like it. Stay loose, people. Wingmen, stay with your leads; watch your fuel states and ammo levels. In two-ship elements, take ‘em! Charge!”
The Orleans
Two Grugell ships, cruisers from their size, were raking the Orleans with bursts of emerald anti-proton fire.
On the Bridge, Captain Ivanov was barking orders while holding a blood-soaked bandage on his temple; he’d been thrown against a bulkhead when a Grugell torpedo had crashed into the ship’s shields.
“Come about to two-seven-zero. Ahead full. Weapons, get me a target solution on that big one on our port.”
“Working now, Captain. Just a moment… There! Ready on missile bays three and four, weapons checked and ready in all respects!”
“Fire!”
Six Lancer missiles, larger and faster than the Shrikes carried by the smaller ships, leaped from the Orleans’ flank and raced after the Grugell cruiser. Drive pods flaring bright orange, the enemy ship tried to evade, but to no avail. Thirty-eight seconds after the missile launch, the enemy ship vanished in a flash of thermonuclear flame.
“That’s a kill! Helm, take us up, bearing steady, north ninety. Get us out from between these two others.”
“Captain, force field shields are failing on the aft port quarter.”
“Belay that last. Turn us into them, head-on,” Ivanov ordered.
“I’m showing fighters coming in, Captain, two of them. They’re A-66’s from the Mountain View.”
Hunter Flight
“We won’t make much of a difference with no missiles, Horse,” Andrea Crider called, “So target any gun turrets you see, any projectors, anything that looks like a weapon.”
“Roger that, Angel.”
“Follow me in. I’m going to take a run on this big one that’s firing on the flagship.”
Crider dove her fighter directly at the gleaming silver orb of the Grugell ship, and to her surprise there was no fire coming her way. Do you suppose they can’t detect something as small as a fighter?
She hit the ranging button on her stick; the readout blinked on her Heads-Up Display, three thousand seven hundred meters. While theoretically, cannon shells would fly forever in the gravity-neutral vacuum of space, her targeting radar was limited but the strength of the return signal.
Two thousand meters, and still no fire came her way.
“Angel, they aren’t shooting at us.”
“I noticed, Horse. Hunter Lead, this is Two, these ships, they don’t seem to be able to see us.”
“I noticed, Angel.”
One thousand meters. “Fox-Three,” Crider called, triggering her cannon. Her slugs glanced off the Grugell cruiser’s force screen, striking a shower of orange sparks but doing no damage at all. “Shit,” she cursed under her breath. “Lead, if someone can bring these shields down, we can do some damage here. Otherwise, we may as well be throwing spitballs.”
“Working on it, Angel. Hunter Flight, this is Lead, hold fire, say again hold fire. Don’t waste your shells yet.”
The Orleans
A haze of smoke hung in the Combat Information Center. The Orleans was under full drive now, but a hit through the side of her Gellar tunnel was reducing drive efficiency by a fourth. Wallowing like a pig, the battle cruiser was trying unsuccessfully to evade the fire of two Grugell cruisers.
“Admiral Gauss, call from the Mountain View!”
“What? What the hell do they want?”
“They want you, sir.”
Gauss grabbed the headset away from the Signals officer. “Gauss. What the hell is it?” He listened intently for several seconds before shouting new orders.
“Tactical Action, tell the Bridge to concentrate all fire on that cruiser at our seven o’clock. Bring the Ian Mac Vie and the Dallas in on their sixes, tell them to target missiles. We need to break down their force screens.”
“We’ve been trying that, Admiral. Particle beams aren’t getting through. Missiles can, but we don’t have enough of them. We’re not carrying our full Basic Load.”
“They can’t see the fighters,” Gauss snapped. “They must be too small. But the fighters aren’t packing anything that can get through their screens. We’ve got to try something else. Signals, contact the Mountain View. Order them to recall half of the fighters, re-arm them with Shrikes. Do it now!”
“Sir, negative reply from the Ian Mac Vie. I think the Mac Vie is gone, sir, I’m not getting a radar return from their last known bearing.”
“Shit. Is the Dallas moving?”
“Yes sir!”
Hunter Flight
“Angel, Horse, Sleaze, Hound, return to base for re-arm,” Hunter Lead called.
“Goose, say again that last,” Andrea Crider called.
“Damn it, Angel, you heard me. Go back to the goddamn carrier for some Shrikes! We aren’t doing any good out here!”
“Goose, it’ll be too late by the time we re-arm!”
“Get moving, Angel, or I’ll have you flying a desk!”
Swearing like a Marine, Andrea Crider looped her fighter away from the Grugell frigate she’d been stalking to race back to the Mountain View.
The Farragut
The Farragut’s Bridge was as yet undamaged, but a hull breach on Deck Six leaked a cloud of gas into space as the oldest of the Navy’s armed ships dove at the silver form of a Grugell frigate.
“Come left three degrees. Ahead two-thirds. Weapons, get me a missile firing solution, all four forward bays.”
“Solution set and locked, Captain, missiles are checked and ready in all respects.”
“Fire!”
“Missiles away,” the Weapons officer screeched. “All birds are hot and tracking.”
“Ahead full, come right to zero-nine-zero.”
A sudden blow shook the ship. “Captain, main drive failure, main drive failure! We’re coasting, Cap…”
The Engineering officer’s call was cut off as the Farragut vanished in a flash of flame, expanding gases and wreckage.
The Orleans
“There goes the Farragut!” Admiral Gauss was raging at the display on the holographic tank. “Damn it, we’re getting our asses kicked here!”
“Admiral,” the Tactical Action officer called out. “Orleans is out of missiles, we’re down to particle beams. Drive efficiency is down to two-thirds; shields are failing in the port rear quarter. The Reuben James reports no damage, but she’s out of Lancers. The Dallas has taken three torpedo hits, she’s trying to evade and get her targeting radars back online. The Mountain View has eight fighters re-arming with Shrikes, but she’s taken one hit, their targeting radar and navigation radars are down.”
“How can we be out of birds that quick?”
“We were only carrying a minimal load, Admiral. Standard load-out for exercises. Orders direct from Fleet.”
“Shit – SHIT! That changes as of now, assuming we survive this goat-screw.”
The Mountain View
Four fighters of VS-66 shot once more out of the Hangar deck, armed now with four Shrike missiles each. “Horse, you keep my six clear. Sleaze, Hound, both of you go high, take that bad guy up there that’s bleeding air. Horse, let’s go after the big boy that’s firing on the Orleans. He looks like their Flag – let’s take him out. That ought to mess them up some.”
“I’m with you, Angel.”
The fighters separated, racing after their intended targets.
“Horse, listen up. It might take all my Shrikes to break through this thing’s shields. Follow me in on my seven o’clock; I’ll launch and break right. As soon as I break clear, pickle off your Shrikes and follow me out. I’m not sure where we’ll go from there, so just hang on my seven.”
“Roger that, Angel.”
“Full throttle, Horse, let’s get ‘em.”
The Orleans
“Bloody hell,” Captain Jensen muttered. His left arm hung crookedly; his shoulder has been dislocated when a torpedo hit had hurled him to the deck.
“You all right, Jerry? Tactical, pass to all ships, break to subspace, say again break for subspace, regroup at Point Alpha.” Admiral Gauss’ face was bleeding from some unseen wound.
“Sir, we’re running?”
“We’ve got no goddam choice, Commander, you understand that? We’re getting creamed here!”
The Commander stared at the Admiral for a moment. “Yes sir.” He turned to the Tactical Action console, picked up a handset. “All ships, withdraw, best possible speed to subspace transit. Regroup at Point Alpha.”
“Let’s get as many of these ships back to Tarbos as we can,” Gauss said to no one in particular.
A buzz sounded on the Signals Panel. “CIC, Bridge. Unless someone can scrape that cruiser off of us, we’ll never make transit,” Captain Ivanov’s voice sounded tinnily from the speaker.
Hunter Flight
“Horse, loosen her up some, you’re about to bump me. Two thousand meters.”
“Roger, Angel. Shrikes are armed.”
“Twelve hundred meters. One thousand. Let’s fire at five hundred, they won’t have a chance to dodge even if they can detect them.”
“Gotcha.”
“Range! Fox One, Fox One, missiles away! Breaking right now,” Crider called.
“Fox One, Fox One for a kill!” Horse loosed his four Shrikes and pulled into a five-gee turn to follow his flight leader.
Behind them, the first four Shrikes arrived at once, shattering the Grugell cruiser’s shields and blasting four decks open to space. Seconds later the second volley of four impacted, blasting through to the ship’s interior, shattering the cruiser’s main hull into several pieces. The Grugell ship rocked with secondary explosions, and one of the two drive pods broke free, cartwheeling into space trailing a sparkling stream of electrical discharges and gas.
“That’s a kill, Horse, that’s a kill,” Crider called.
“VS-66, VS-42, return to base immediately, acknowledge.”
“Mountain View Flight Control, this is Hunter Two, roger that,” Crider answered. “I wonder what’s up now?”
“We’re out of missiles anyway, Angel,” Horse pointed out.
The Orleans
“Captain Jensen, I want you to find out who was flying those two fighters. They just saved our miserable asses,” Admiral Gauss said through gritted teeth. “Commander, how long to transit?”
“Forty-eight minutes, Captain. We may be able to shade that by five minutes, max, if Engineering can moderate the disruption in the conversion matrix from the breach in the mass tunnel. Reuben James has already gone into subspace. Dallas is two minutes from subspace. Mountain View is recovering fighters now; they report fifteen minutes to complete recovery and then nine more minutes to subspace transit.”
“There’s still enemy ships out there,” Gauss growled.
“Nothing within a thousand kilometers on the screen at the moment, Admiral. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t there, does it?”
“God, what a debacle.” Gauss sat down in the first chair he saw. “What a total, unmitigated fuck-up.”
“Sir, call from the Dallas, they’re asking if we require an escort to transit.”
“No. Tell them to get the hell out of here. Line up our trajectory to cover the Mountain View with whatever damned weapons we still have until they make subspace. We can’t afford to lose the carrier.”
“We can’t afford to lose the flagship either,” Captain Jensen pointed out. “We’ve lost two frigates already, and we couldn’t afford that. We’re down from eight ships to six, now. And three of those are badly damaged. If those Grugell bastards wanted to hit us hard, they sure as hell have.” Gauss grimaced, rubbed his temple. “God, my head hurts.”
To see more of Animal’s writing, visit his page at Crimson Dragon Publishing or Amazon.
Farragut
Smokey Mountains: weird place for an admiral to be born?
Fredericksburg, TX
https://www.pacificwarmuseum.org/about/admiral-nimitz
That’s where my brother volunteers. He restores the vehicles.
That is a great museum. If you’re ever in range, go visit.
YAY! EXPLOSIONS!
Needs more lens flare though.
five-gee turn
Umm, where did that gravity come from?
If you have forward momentum and change direction, you will experience accelleration forces which can still be measured in equivalent units to g. Gravity is not required.
Velocity squared divided by the radius of the turn.
So touchy
“It’s pretty dope that he didn’t blink,” Wood adds. “In fact, he went harder. This is by far the most sensitive administration we’ve ever had to deal with as comedians. … He didn’t bat an eye.”
It certainly couldn’t be because those “comedians” have gone all out to portray Trump as the Devil incarnate.
It’s so brave how he stood up to the imaginary monster he created.
LOL any lie will do… the more outrageous the better.
I have a first cousin once removed whom I introduce as my aunt because fuck “first cousin once removed” bullshit. She doesn’t like this. Anyway, her name is Kay and she’s VERY elderly. She has a life partner, Mary, but over the years I’ve begun to think there’s no sex involved, but whatever. I’m not their supervisor.
Kay has had a very positive influence on my life. She’s always lived in Salt Lake, but she and my dad (first cousins) have had an odd kind of friendship. Although she wasn’t in my life MUCH, when she WAS in it, she would say or do something significant that shifted my worldview outward. I’ve gotten to know her much better in the last 25+ years and we talk semi-regularly. Also, she likes my books and for some reason her approbation was/is extremely important to me.
But Kay doesn’t come by herself. Usually when I talk about her, I refer to her as Kay-and-Mary, because they’re a matched set. And so, I never actually get to talk to her without Mary’s input and Mary will talk your ear off. Now, Mary is fucking BRILLIANT (they both are, but Kay’s not flashy about it). HOWEVER.
While I do not talk about politics to them (other than the trans thing), Mary feels free to bash everything I find beneficial (e.g., possibly Trump, but I see my knee-jerk reaction to that as “Well, he’s better than the other guy. Maybe. But I’m not going to blow the other guy’s horn at all.”).
I talked to them Saturday, just to check in, see how they’re doing, as I do. I swear if I hear Mary hatefully spewing the party line about climate change and “Trump’s gas prices” (like a president acts in a vacuum with no historical inheritance) and “this news site we watch that’s totally objective” (narrator: It is not), to which I say flatly, “I don’t watch TV,” I might throw my phone. And on top of her ranting about all that business, I had to hear her wax tween over Colbert. “Aren’t you just heartbroken about Colbert?” I JUST told you I don’t watch TV and I’m not getting within earshot of Colbert, so I channel my inner Slingblade and say, “I don’t know anything about that.”
Kay says NOTHING through all of this, but she also knows I have my limits with Mary and the one time I showed it,* I think she agreed with me.
Mary is going on 80 and she BELIEVES this bullshit she spews. I’ve shifted my position on a lot of things since I was a kid (partly because of Kay) to my intellectual betterment. HOW can somebody be so brilliant and be so tunnel-visioned and suggestible? I don’t know.
*So, I went to the KC [[[temple]]] with them the last time they visited. I do not find this to be a particularly pleasant experience. In fact, I find it stressful and distressing because reasons. One reason was that that day, my dress was too big and I was stepping on it constantly. The [[[temple]]] is supposed to be a somber, quiet place of peace, rest, and reflection. Mary was bouncing off the walls in excitement like she hasn’t done this before. (Of course, bouncing off the walls in childlike glee is her usual status.) Kay, of course, was as staid and close-mouthed as per usual. Mary kept saying, “Oh, isn’t this FUN???” I don’t answer because I’m busy picking myself up off the floor where I face-planted and left makeup smudges on the carpet (no, that didn’t happen). FINALLY, after she’s said this two or three times, she actually demands I answer. I huffed and said, “NO, MARY. This is NOT fun. I find NOTHING about this experience to be FUN.” Kay laughed, but Mary didn’t catch it, but damn, at least she shut up about it. Like who goes to worship for FUN? (Yeah, I know. Pentecostals.)
Thank you for coming to my TED talk.
I was trying to decide if there was anything to snark about.
Since nothing came naturally, I figured it’d be crass and inappropriate to force it.
I probably would not have the patience to deal with Mary, judging by my reactions to other humans.
All I’m going to say is that you put up with a lot more for the people you love than you would for anybody else, especially if you have kids.
I should get royalties for everyone calling it a Ted Talk.
Sorry, TedS, but there’s no money in it.
No, they’re named after Tedx not Ted S.
TED talk.
Was it about Lesbian Bed death or did I read too much into that?
I have been calling my buddy Travis my life partner for almost twenty years now.
There are two possibilities, and I’ll take fair odds on either one:
One is that Mary is not actually all that brilliant, but is simply well-practiced at repeating things that make her sound smart – this is true of probably 95% of the people in the world commonly thought of as ‘smart’.
The other is that people who are smart in a single domain, are not necessarily smart in all domains.
I guess there’s a third possibility – that Mary is actually right about everything, and in fact you are wrong. I doubt this is the case, but it should be examined before rejecting it.
It’s not the case, because *I’m* the one who’s right about everything.
Still wrong Ted?
Sad.
I have considered this. While Kay has been instrumental in changing my outlook, usually through clever but not harmless jabs that jerked me up short that I actually caught (even when I was a kid) (and also, I did like being given permission to think differently from my dad), I don’t respond well to vague unsubstantiated expressions of frustration when she doesn’t actually know what I think/believe and just assumes I already agree.
But I like memes for a REASON and Kay kind of spoke in memes. Now she’s just tired and doesn’t give two shits and isn’t interested in challenging anybody’s opinions.
So even if Mary IS right, the delivery is going nowhere.
Both of those possibilities are likely occurring at some level in Mary (and in all “smart” people).
I intentionally dumb down my vocabulary because people treat me differently when I use big words. I learned in high school that I’m much more relatable when I keep it to a 9th grade reading level. I use much more analogy and much less jargon.
One part of that change was noticing when other people turn the ratchet in the other direction. Many 115 IQ people can sound like they’re 140 IQ by using big words. A lot of that is just rote memorization of domain specific jargon and pattern-matched regurgitation of those jargon words on command. It’s a parrot saying “here kitty kitty” when it sees the cat, just with bigger brains.
At the end of the day, there is smart and there is elitist. Elitists use big words to obfuscate the truth and retain their social currency as elites. Smart people use plain words to explain hard things because they care about being relatable and conveying truth.
I honestly can’t NOT use big words because I read a lot and internalized them, and I’m sometimes in a conversational flow and require precision so they just pop out. I don’t really get that weird look like I’m being pretentious, especially with my country accent. People get confused and say, “What does X mean?” and then I struggle to define it. I don’t THINK it makes people feel dumb.*
When I went to college, one girl said, “You are the most brilliant ditz I ever met.” I’m okay with that. The accent softens everything.
*I make people feel dumb when I don’t laugh at their jokes. I don’t laugh at their jokes because I don’t get the joke. So then I have to explain that I didn’t get it, and try to soften the effect with “It’s not you, it’s me.”
Oh! Well! And then there’s Cunty Aunts and they’re all the way in the other direction and their field of vision/experience/education is even narrower. And they’re not brilliant. Susie’s stupid. Milly’s just…there. Trying to survive.
I have a rather oversized vocabulary, and my problem with word choice is that I don’t realize what words count as “big”. I just collected them, and they’re fair game as far as my brain is concerned when composing sentences. My default mode of operation begins with “any given person I’m dealing with is probably smarter than me” until I assess their individual ability. So I don’t by default put in the effort to seek the most simplified phrasing. If I’ve dealt with somebody for a while, I’ll have a sense of what level their vocabulary is at and how bright they are or not. So I’ll be better at communicating with them.
I don’t know why my baseline is “I’m probably the dumbest guy in the room.”
I have to admit that I do use a lot of big words and fancy language, because I enjoy it. It’s a bad habit and one that I should probably work more on.
I also sometimes forget to close tags. I’m going to go hit myself with a stick now.
The late great Scott Adams said that smart people are not immune to brainwashing. In fact, they might be more vulnerable to it.
My reading vocabulary is much larger than my speaking vocabulary. That’s likely the same for everyone.
I felt smart in the army, but that was about it.
So what you’re saying is, there’s something about Mary?
This is what comes to mind after your story.
*shrug*
“A million dollars for the nose of the infidel!”
I’m getting flashbacks of talking to my parents on the phone. They live an hour away, and admittedly I am not the best son because I don’t visit them too often. Most phone conversations are just fine, catching up on gossip and such. But about 10% of the time Mom will bring up politics and spew the party line just like Mary. I’ve given up arguing and just deflect. I have thought about it, and I’ve come up with these facts:
1) Mom and Dad were brought up in a very blue collar area, where “Democrats are for the poor” and “Republicans are for the rich” was pounded into their heads.
2) They only watch the MSM, which downplays or outright ignores the extreme leftism that the Dems have embraced.
3) Being old and not at all tech savvy, they are not even aware of alternate news sources (outside of Fox News), so there is no reason for them to believe “The News” is no longer even pretending to be objective.
When I try to point out that something isn’t at all true based on my sources, I might as well tell them I’m reading chicken entrails.
They are old and set in their ways, and I don’t see any way to change their minds.
Oh, and now Professor of Rock is singing Kate Bush’s praises.
No.
Just no.
I’m here for the Vince Neil bashing, not listening to Temu Bjork.
I never liked Kate Bush. The only reason she’s hot right now is that her song (which I also never liked) was on Stranger Things.
I like That Song but was never a huge fan otherwise.
Her voice grates on me worse than Phil Collins’s and that’s saying something.
lol I like Phil Collins 😭
Exciting episode this week. Thanks, Animal.
I second this!
I guess there’s a third possibility – that Mary is actually right about everything, and in fact you are wrong.
Or, preposterous as it may seem, the “truth” may lie somewhere in the middle, and neither party is completely wrong or right.
My brother is coming to visit in a few weeks. He is a full on trump hater. Trump is undoubtedly a scatterbrained, unprincipled dick, but I don’t need to hear about it nonstop.
This.
He is all of that but holy crap his enemies believe that he is as evil and ruthless as all of them are and it cannot occur to them that maybe he just isn’t.
It’s going to be interesting when he’s gone, and the next Republican boogeyman appears. Will they retcon him like George W Bush? Or will he continue to be the evil genius secretly pulling strings?
Lights out
Global oil stockpiles are plummeting and inventories may not recover until December 2027, strategists warn, with physical shortages potentially looming over Europe by the end of this month.
Jeff Currie, executive co-chairman at Abaxx Commodity Exchange, said that physical shortages could hit Europe “any day now,” and the severity of the ongoing supply crunch is not yet reflected in oil prices or policymakers’ remarks.
Speaking with CNBC’s “Squawk Box Europe” Monday, Currie said that oil supply concerns will intensify as inventories are depleted, adding that once the shortages hit, prices will go “non-linear.”
I’m investing in hand crank phone chargers.
I’m thinking of switching my furnace from fuel oil to propane. The last time I bought fuel oil (March 2026), it was $3.64 / gallon. I can’t imagine what it costs right now, but on-road diesel is $5.60 (fuel oil is just #2 diesel without the road tax).
Just curious what people here recommend for basic dog training – not pulling on a leash, controlling them when greeting. I’ve looked at the various collar options. This dog has only had a flat collar his whole life. He will choke himself endlessly and without the slightest concern. He can’t overpower me, but he’d probably be able to drag full grown women if I needed one to watch him.
I tried with harnesses. I’m still working on getting him to put it on. The dog trainer I paid $200 for a hour of her time wasn’t able to get him to accept it and she tried for like 30 minutes. I’m patient, but I don’t really see this as a training tool in the first place. It just lightens the burden when he does pull and makes it easier to restrain.
I’ve looked at slip collars. They seem like an answer, but I worry about choking risks because he is a hell of a puller. Obviously I’m just looking for training tools. I’m not going to leave this on him.
The Youtuber whose videos I’ve been watching seems to like the slips but also prong collars. I know which prong collar is most recommended, but have similar concerns. Worry about fitting it right.
I’m to the point where I feel pretty comfortable saying that the dog will probably respond more to light corrective measures than just positive reinforcement. I’m a year in and he won’t even consistently sit when told to. Yea, if I have a reward he’s fine doing it, but just because I ask? Nah.
I’m even looking into e-collars and they seem like the easiest tool on the surface, but don’t know if they’re really best suited to the basics or this situation. My main concerns with him really are just pulling on walks and being way too fucking excited when people are around.
Dog has a personality where everything is a game to him. Very stubborn, very head strong. He does respond to positive reinforcement, but just couldn’t care less much of the time if they aren’t present.
I’ve spent a few hours digging into the collar types. I feel like prong may be effective, but I worry about hurting the little fucker.
Got a treat pouch to help with all this. Little son of a bitch just jumps up and tries to get the treats. Funny enough he was being well behaved and walking behind me. I feel like he knows how you want him to behave and just doesn’t give a fuck. He seems pretty damn smart in general. Gave him some dog puzzles and none of them take him long, though he enjoys them.
This is why I think at this point it’s about some form of negative reinforcement to pair with positive.
Sending the dog to doggie boot camp may be an option, allow a week or so of intensive personal training combined with activities you do before and after at home. I know some dog people, I will try to get a recommendation. I can say the dogs I know who have been to boot camp (and the owners followed all the rules before and after) were very well behaved.
Try a gentle leader. It goes over their muzzle so their head turns when there is tension on the leash.
Harnesses are what they put on pits for pulling competitions. It makes it easier for him to pull on the leash.
Between their muscled-up necks and general don’t-give-a-shitism, choke collars (including prong collars, are pretty hit or miss with the breed.
Trainer had one and that was the one she said she prefers. My concern is if I can’t get him to put the harness on, it’s going to be a bitch to get him to accept something on his muzzle. And I’ve seen people complain that their dogs spent more time trying to get it off than anything.
It’s been a few weeks trying with that damn harness. I got frustrated and just threw it on him when he tried pulling back. He looked so traumatized and hurt. Didn’t know what to do with himself until I relented and took it off.
We use martingales.
https://www.petco.com/shop/en/petcostore/product/petsafe-martingale-dog-collar-with-quick-snap-buckle-medium-raspberry-1-inch-4568664?cm_mmc=PSH|GGL|OMNI|CC|NA|NA|fesTLD7pWLDL4CamhQ2pVZ|ENT_PSH_GGL_OMNI_CC_NA_PETCO_NA_NA_09032025_COV_PUR-OMNI_PMAX-PLA-LIA_NA_DOG|0|0|0&gclsrc=aw.ds&gad_source=1&gad_campaignid=22497747970&gbraid=0AAAAAD97F14o20B9MVjrf-Y34oZy4TRwM&gclid=EAIaIQobChMIt56U-8XDlAMV8ojCCB2Z2zx_EAQYBCABEgIizvD_BwE
sorry for the tracking shit. delete everything after the “?”
Never had a dog but I sent my wife here. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Sq3YD7fNZTI&pp=0gcJCU8Co7VqN5tD&ra=m
Crap sensationalist headlines like this irritate me:
https://www.breitbart.com/health/2026/05/18/officials-canadian-becomes-first-positive-hantavirus-case-in-north-america-after-cruise-ship-outbreak/
We have hantavirus cases every year. Over 30 in 2025, mostly in the South.
We have hantavirus cases every year.
No kidding. Hantavirus is not exactly rare. It also is not (or very rarely) transferred person to person.
It’s just another scary campfire tale to terrify the rubes and keep them clamoring for the protection of Big Nanny.
I just did a Google search. It’s been around possibly 1000 years, but was identified in the 1970’s. It is not new.
I hate what technology has done to us. We have a world of information at our fingertips, yet most people accept what they see on social media and they can’t be bothered to do a 5 second search. This information isn’t at all controversial.
Just curious what people here recommend for basic dog training
B F Skinner
The Art of Raising a Puppy and How to be Your Dog’s Best Friend, both by The Monks of New Skete.
Shocks the conscience
The advocacy group Citizens for Responsibility & Ethics in Washington blasted the settlement, calling it “one of the single most corrupt acts in American history.”
“While Americans are struggling with an affordability crisis, President Trump plans to use nearly $1.8 billion in taxpayer money to pay off his friends and allies – including potentially the violent insurrectionists who attacked the Capitol on January 6th,” said CREW President Donald Sherman in a statement.
“By settling his absurd $10 billion lawsuit against his own administration, Trump and the Justice Department just engaged in the most brazen act of self-dealing in the history of the presidency, and did so quickly in order to avoid the scrutiny of the judicial process, while quite likely violating the Constitution’s Domestic Emoluments Clause in the process,” Sherman said.
Sen. Elizabeth Warren, D-Mass., in a post on X on Monday shortly before the settlement was announced by the DOJ, said, “Trump is one step closer to creating a giant slush fund of taxpayer dollars for his MAGA buddies.”
“This is corruption on steroids,” Warren wrote.
I guess it depends on your definition of corruption.
And you have to ignore the multiple slush funds St Barack extorted out of Big Bank.
Oh, look…California is on fire again.
In Minnesoda too.
https://wfca.com/fire-map?lng=-92.8525&lat=46.9076&zoom=8.44
Sen. Ron Wyden, D-Ore., in a statement, said, “Regardless of whether Trump filed this lawsuit with a personal payday or a slush fund in mind, he deserves no credit for dropping it, and even by his standards the move he’s trying to get away with now is a stunning act of corruption.”
“What Trump wants is a $1.7 billion slush fund for right-wing political violence and subversion, and if he follows through, it will be the most brazen theft and abuse of taxpayer dollars by any president in American history,” Wyden said.
If he wanted to give it to USAID and a bunch of “civil society advocacy groups” that would be completely different
Oh calm your tits, Mary. JFC.