https://gizadeathstar.com/2025/04/chinas...ar-h-bomb/

Sounds like an overgrown fuel-air explosive device.  But those are hugely destructive.

Researchers from the UK and Canada who have been analysing the difference in warning calls made by a female Sumatran orangutan discovered she used a vocal element of a complexity thought only capable by humans , the information shared by the orangutan is multi layered to impart more detail of the perceived threat  

Quote:Recursion is the repetition of language elements in an embedded way so that they form a comprehensible thought/phrase. Like Russian nesting dolls, the power of recursion mean we can combine a finite set of elements to deliver an infinite array of messages with increasing complexity.
It is widely believed that nested communication is a unique feature of human language, allowing us greater complexity of thought, but research from The University of Warwick, published today in Annals of The New York Academy of Sciences, tells a different story.
Dr. Chiara De Gregorio, Research Fellow at The University of Warwick, who performed this work alongside Adriano Lameira (also Warwick) and Marco Gamba (University of Torino), said: "When analysing the vocal data of alarm calls from female Sumatran orangutans, we found that the rhythmic structure of orangutans' sounds made were self-embedded across three levels -- an impressive third-order recursion. Finding this feature in orangutan communication challenges the idea that recursion is uniquely human."
The three-layered (recursive) structure of the orangutan's calls was as follows:

• Individual sounds made by orangutans occurred in small combinations (first layer)
  
• These combinations could be grouped into larger bouts (second layer)
  
• And these bouts could be grouped into even larger series (third layer), all with a regular rhythm at each level
  

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/20...134254.htm

It is about time

Quote:A hidden war is being fought by America to totally eliminate the cartel in states no one would suspect. Because The frontline in the war against the cartel has shifted far north to Colorado, Utah, and even all the way to Montana where there is a 50% increase in substances.

People invading our Country without documentation are a security risk , most sensible people understand this but successive governments seemingly don't care as they have failed to act against the threat and secure our borders from the invaders , now under our Socialist Labour government the numbers coming here for free handouts and housing has grown now running at over 1,000 a week and those are just the ones we know about.

In a further embarrassing development for our continually embarrassed government 3 Iranian "asylum seekers" who came over on small boats and a lorry were subsequently arrested a couple of weeks ago to appear in court today charged with spying offences , spying against dissident Iranians here it seems.

Quote:Mostafa Sepahvand, 39, Farhad Javadi Manesh, 44, and Shapoor Qalehali Khani Noori, 55, are alleged to have targeted journalists working for Iran International, an independent media organisation based in London.

Sepahvand, of St John's Wood, ,  London, is also charged with "surveillance, reconnaissance and open-source research" with the intention of "committing serious violence against a person in the UK", according to a police statement.

Meanwhile, Manesh, of Kensal Rise, London, and Noori, of Ealing, London, are charged with "engaging in conduct, namely surveillance and reconnaissance, with the intention that acts, namely serious violence against a person in the UK, would be committed by others.s".

Quote:"We must also strengthen our powers to protect our national security as we will not tolerate growing state threats on our soil."

She said the government will next week publish its independent barrister-led report commissioned into the UK "counter-terrorism framework to modern-day state threats".

https://news.sky.com/story/three-iranian...e-13369333

Quote:Over 100,000 foreign national convictions in just 3 years

Between 2021 and 2023 there were 104,000 foreign national convictions in England and Wales - including tens of thousands of sexual offences, violent crime, and drug offences.
https://www.migrationcentral.co.uk/p/ove...onvictions

Just a talk on the new Boeing  F-47 supposedly being built..

Quote:The F-47 might be a new piece of military technology for the Air Force but in fact it is built off of decades of experimental aircraft from the 1980s flown by NASA and turned into the NGAD program. Who'd have thunk.

Happy Friday as we ease into the weekend once again.



Well, butter my biscuits and install my firmware. I reckon we're all just two updates away from being replaced by a Bluetooth-enabled toaster with better social skills. Howdy, howdy, friends and neighbors. Welcome to RN Bronze Banner Side with yours truly, Madness, still speaking with a tongue made of fleshy gristle and not microchips.

And today, friends, we're talking about the shiny, soulless apocalypse trotting toward us on carbon fiber legs and powered by nothing but algorithms and the collective stupidity of mankind. Yep, I'm talking artificial intelligence, robots, and all this techno fetish nonsense that's got folks acting like Terminator was a documentary series got a soul.

Now let's get one thing straight. I ain't anti-technology. I’m anti-technological dystopia aka Black Mirror, 1984, 2001, Brave New World, Hunger Games, Ready Player One, Giver, THX 1138, Minority Report, Gattaca, Surrogates, Westworld, Logan’s Run, Terminator, Alphaville, Rollerball, Sleep Dealer, and Elysium. I like running water and flush toilets. I enjoy refrigeration for my sacred beer, and I ain't about to trade my radio for smoke signals. But there's a mighty big difference between helpful tools and power-hungry Frankensteins programmed by folks who still need instructions to boil pasta.

We got folks out here trying to recreate the human brain, when half of them ain't even used their own since MySpace shut down. Now these robots, oh lord, these ain't just your Roomba and your coffee pot, no sir. These are humanoid, bipedal, slightly creepy department store steampunk mannequins with Wi-Fi.

Them bots got names like Emeka, Sophia, Ameca, Nadine, Geminoid, and Optimus and other sci-fi stripper names. And we're just handing them job titles, bank access, and God help us, Potemkin feelings. I saw one of these robots the other day blinking and smiling like a politician with a fresh lobotomy and a Cheshire Cat fetish. It was supposed to emote like it was on stage to impress me.

Hell, I've seen roadkill express more sincerity. An AI. Don't get me started. That ain't intelligence. It's just a glorified spell checker at rip roarin speed with a god complex. Sure, they're better search engines than your old fashioned Bing Google, but I'll stick pick a cute librarian with horn rimmed glasses and enough pent up hormones to kill a gator at 50 paces any day of the week. Love among the stacks, we used to call that. Anyway, you ask it a question, and it don't think. It just scrapes together a quilt made of Reddit posts and Wikipedia articles and hands it back like it cured cancer.

It's like talking to a drunk librarian who's read every book, but didn't understand none of it. They call it learning. No, folks, learning means screwing up like a redneck stuntman, getting balled out, fixing it, and remembering never to try that again. It don't mean chugging the internet through a beer bong on pledge night and regurgitating it in business jargon and trite platitudes. And don't give me this horse hockey about AI won't replace people. You know who says that? People who've already been replaced. Go visit China. They just ain't gotten the memo yet. Try calling a customer service line lately. You don't talk to a person.

You talk to an emotionally stunted cyborg who understands your frustration in the same way a vending machine understands your hunger. Now before I bust a gasket, let me grab another shot.

So let's get hydrating. Now, where was I? Oh, right. Why in the name of Sam Hill are we creating machines that look like us, talk like us, and will eventually decide they got no need for us? We had a good thing going. Machines were for doing the hard stuff so folks could do the soulful stuff, like dancing, fishing, and arguing Schopenhauer over a plate of biscuits and gravy. Now they're trying to upload our consciousness into a server farm in Palo Alto, like that's an upgrade. Friend, if I can't smell bacon and perfume or smash my thumb with a hammer, I ain't interested in eternal life on a flash drive.

And all this AI ethics talk, please. Where were these 'ethics' people during Covid vaccine hell? That's like teaching a coyote veganism. You can dress it up in a tutu and toe shoes, but at the end of the day, it's still got teeth, and it's still gonna gnaw through your chicken coop. Ethics only works if you got empathy.

And I ain't met a machine yet that knows how I feel before my first cup of bean juice the morning after. What's worse, we're acting like this is progress. Like trading grit for convenience is somehow noble. Like making ourselves obsolete is some sort of evolutionary mic drop moment. Let me tell you something.

Progress without wisdom is like giving a toddler a chainsaw. Sure, they'll get something done, but it won't be pretty and someone's losing a limb. We're sitting in a world where kids can't read cursive, can't make eye contact, and think hard work is remembering a Wi-Fi password. But we've got software that can imitate Shakespeare.

Great, now we've got robots writing sonnets while actual people can't remember how to spell February. Listen, I ain't scared of machines. I'm scared of folks so dazzled by machines they forget to be human. I'm scared of a world where your grandkids best friend is a chat bot and his only hobby is watching AI generated cartoons that autoplay until his brain turns to butterscotch pudding. It ain't the robot's fault. They're just doing what they were programmed to do. It's us who forgot that just because you can do something don't mean you should. See here, I ain't got all the answers.

I'm just a cranky old Texan in a jungle with a microphone and a mild mistrust of anything with a lithium-ion battery and probably a case of dengue fever. But I do know this. When you start replacing love with logic, courage with code, and the soul with a circuit board, you ain't building the future.

You're just digging a fancier grave. So next time some Silicon Valley messiah tells you that AI is gonna fix humanity, ask him this: When was the last time you hugged a robot? And if he says, yesterday, go ahead and report him to the nearest priest, therapist, or livestock officer.

This has been Madness, coming to you raw, unfiltered, and 100% human. I'm Madness T. Filibuster, signing off before someone tries to scan my brain and put me on a server. If you liked the show, say so. If you didn't, blame the algorithm. And remember, if your fridge starts giving you attitude, unplug it and go walk in the dirt barefoot. Keep your powder dry and your cabinet dryer and we'll catch the same boots, different dust.

Let's ride...

Quote:After a powerful earthquake struck Myanmar in March 2025, Thai social media lit up with one name: Mor Prah. Dubbed Thailand’s Nostradamus, this young prophetess suddenly found herself at the center of national attention. Her latest prediction? A global catastrophe before the end of July—possibly triggered by multiple undersea earthquakes. In this episode, we uncover the rise of Thailand’s most talked-about spiritual voice. Who is Mor Prah? What exactly did she predict? And is there more still to come? From visions to viral fame, this is the story of a prophecy too specific to ignore—and a countdown that may already be ticking. Timestamp: 3:52 The Predictions Begin 7:04 Fire, Earthquakes, and a Rising Star 8:15 A Chilling Forecast for 2025 9:03 When Prophets Get Politics Wrong 10:48 The Prophet Returns 11:47 The coming Tsunami 14:26 A Global Catastrophe 16:11 The Pacific Ring of Fire

When I lived in Florida during the late-1980s, I collected a bunch of sea shells for my Mother.  She liked those kinds of things and used stuff like that in her crafting.  Here are some of those sea shells I collected for her, that I just randomly photographed:



Pretty Sea Shells In A Totally Random Pattern par HaarFager, on ipernity

Since this was about my travels, I hope I've placed it in the appropriate forum.

3 minutes of satire that takes a look at how an "actual" Nazi feels now that everyone is a Nazi , or rather is branded as such by the Left.

"because when everyone's a Nazi no one is"


According to our PM I'm "Far Right" for caring about my Country , next stop Nazism I guess.

This story reminded me of a survival story of my own.  A Georgia woman was found in the CA mountains after being lost for over 3 weeks.  She was found just by chance shortly after rescuers had given up hope and scaled back search efforts.  She had gotten lost in a snowstorm and found shelter at a cabin whose owner had left unlocked in case of just such an incident.  The owner of the cabin was the one who found her.

Found after 3 wks, thanks to unlocked cabin

My first reaction to this story was twofold.  First, it made me remember a time when this used to be common practice.  Heck, in the Wyoming town I grew up in we even used to leave our keys in our trucks in case someone needed to move them while we were away!  Virtually all mountain cabins were open for emergency use.  The only unwritten code of honor was to replace and replenish whatever you took or used.  The reason this thought hit me is because of my 2nd reason...a similar experience happened to me personally once (although not 3 weeks).

A friend and I had ventured deep into the Wyoming back country; the Wind River Range to be exact.  I'd grown up there and we knew this area  like the backs of our hands.  We'd taken my Jeep as absolutely far as even the remotest semblance of a 'road' would let us go.  The previous several miles had really been more of a rocky path barely cut from the side of a mountain.  About a quarter of the way there we had been forced to cross through a very muddy bog area with deep water and mud and giant trees on either side (no way around it).  I had gotten (badly) stuck on the way in, but we were able to winch my Jeep out and continue on.  Once we ran out of road we set out on foot and packed another 15-18 miles to a very remote lake above the treeline.  We'd not brought any food with us to speak of, as was usually the case; we'd planned on catching or trapping whatever we needed to eat.  After a slow start we eventually got into some fish and wound up eating like kings.  After several days, it was time to head back out.

I'd tried not to think about it while on our little trek, but getting my Jeep back out of where we were had circulated around in my head a couple times.  Long story short, most of the trip out was uneventful...until we reached the bog I'd gotten stuck in several days before.  Well, someone else in some kind of a giant 4x4 had gotten into that bog since we'd been there and they had gotten MAJORLY stuck.  Several large trees had been cut down, and the bog itself was torn to absolute shreds with giant ruts which couldn't be avoided.  This was not going to be fun, and it wasn't small either, probably 300 yards across.  There was just no way around it, and we had scouted for probably 20 miles trying to find one too.  It was at the bottom of a steep canyon, and everywhere else was straight up cliffs.  I knew we'd get stuck, the only questions were how bad and would we be able to get out.

Fast forward about 14 hours later.  We were completely soaked, covered in mud, and freezing to death.  It was now snowing like no tomorrow and temps were plummeting.  The mud and water was already cold when we'd started (springtime in Wyoming high in the Wind Rivers).  Despite not being able to tell what color my Jeep was anymore from the mud, fourteen hours later we'd managed to get all the way across the bog and up out of it.  We were both near-hypothermic and exhausted beyond description.  (I could probably write an entire book just about getting across that bog alone).  We still had about 100 miles left to go.  About 60 of the 100 was off-road getting to the highway, and the remaining 40 was highway back home.  We changed out of our wet clothes as best we could and set out for home.  One problem...I looked down at my gas gauge for the first time all day and was shocked to see it sitting below "E".  OH....SHIT!!!!

We'd been so focused on trying to get unstuck that we'd failed to keep track of how much gas we had left (not that it would have mattered too much, other than maybe changing some earlier decisions).  There was no way we had enough fuel to get back out.  Not with two smaller mountain ranges to go over and countless switchbacks between us and the highway.  Of course, now it was snowing harder than ever and snow was accumulating rapidly.  This was not looking good.  About 30 miles later (which actually surprised me) we ran out of fuel.  Now it was dark and the wind was picking up.  No time to mess around.

I'd remembered a small cabin I'd spotted on the way in.  Just as a matter of course, I generally try to remember things I might need at some future point.  If we stayed on the road, I estimated the cabin was roughly 10 miles around the base of this foothill in front of us.  Overland, I figured it would be about 3 miles.  So, overland we went...in the dark...in the snow. 

After about an hour we both had gotten turned around.  The foothill we were going over was about 1,000 feet vertical elevation change and a distance of about 3 miles.  What I hadn't seen on the map was there were actually two hills with a large canyon down between them.  By the time we'd navigated through all that we were really turned around.  No matter what I knew the direction we needed to go to get out, but I now no longer had any idea of what direction to go to find the cabin we were hoping to find fuel at.  I was starting to get a little concerned (like beginning to think we might need to stop and start building a survival shelter for the night, kind of 'concerned').  We'd actually found an ideal spot between two giant house-sized boulders, so we marked the spot and dropped some of our gear.  After this we headed out to scout further ahead, carefully marking our path so we could find our gear cache and camping spot again.  About a half a mile later, over the top of a ridge, something flashed in the light of my headlamp.  It was a reflection off of something, but I couldn't tell what through the snow.  As we got closer, I could see it was another cabin (not the first one we'd been headed for).  What a miracle.

Once at the cabin, we knocked on the door...nothing.  Tried the door knob thinking it might be open.  Nope.  Dammit!  Then my buddy spots a note stuck in between the storm door and the main door.  The envelope read "PLEASE READ".  Inside was a note saying..."Damn bears have figured out how to open doors now (twice) and trashed the place.  The key's in the mailbox beside the door.  Please leave it as you found it.  Thanks, Fred."  Inside was another note on the kitchen table.  It said..."Should be some food in the cupboard, not much but better than nothin'.  There's wood just outside the back door.  Just please don't make a fire which lasts longer than you're gonna' stay."  There were some other instructions, but Fred knew the drill, and so did we.  What an absolute luxury.  By now the wind outside was howling and temps were down in the teens (maybe less).  We still had a little of our own food and water left, so we ate that while we warmed up by the fire.  Slept to about 9am the next morning (which is absolutely unheard of for me; I normally get rolling at 4am latest).  We had been exhausted, and Fred's cabin (whomever Fred was) had very likely saved our lives!

That morning, the sun was out.  Typical sunshiny morning in the Wyoming high country.  Frosty-assed cold, but at least the sun was out an no wind.  Fred had a gas can full of gas on his back porch which I borrowed.  Hiked back over the ridge to our gear from the night before, and then back to the Jeep.  Fred actually had two gas cans, but I'd only borrowed one.  Fueled up the Jeep with 5 gallons (which was a total bitch hauling over those two ridges!!), drove around the base of the mountain back to Fred's place and dropped off his gas can.  Poured the second can in my Jeep and left a note with my name, number and saying I'd be back with the gas.  And, a great big HUGE "Thank You!!!" to Fred (whoever he was). 

And that's a true story, folks.

Epilogue - We made it back into town, and my first order of business was to round up 10-15 gallons of gas, some canned goods, and maybe something else as a thank you.  In the cabin, I'd noticed ol' Fred had an old .338 Win Mag leaned up against the wall in the main area.  I just happened to have an old box of Super X .338 Win Mag ammo laying around that I wasn't going to need (I'd traded my .338 on a Weatherby .270 Mag), so I grabbed the shells and figured I'd donate those too.  Oh, and a nice bottle of scotch.  I drove back expecting to drop the stuff off and leave, but low and behold there was a truck there when I got back.  I got actually got to meet ol' Fred and thank him in person!  What a treat!  I gave him all the stuff and asked if there was anything I could do to help him with anything (he was an old guy).  He didn't, need anything so I packed up after a short visit and headed back to town.  Of all the stuff I'd brought back, ol' Fred seemed to be the happiest about the box of .338 Win Mag ammo I'd given him.  He was just over the top about that.  Must have thanked me twenty times for it.  On the ride back I was thinking about the whole trip, and then my getting to meet Fred.  The more I thought about it...yeah, I guess those old .338 Win Mags were getting harder and harder to find ammo for anymore.

Thanks, Fred!  

(Fred's long gone now, I'm sure.  But I still remember him and that day like it was yesterday, even though it was nearly 50 years ago).