Monarchies have kings and queens who enjoy the ultimate job security: they rule for life, or until they decide to abdicate, perhaps for reasons of ill health, or in order to run off with an American divorcee, like this guy . . .

But I digress.

The few monarchies left in the world seem to revere their royal families and the traditions that go along with them, and it’s all very lovely to watch on TV. But for the most part these days — unlike in the times of Henry VIII and Ivan the Terrible — the royals’ jobs are mostly ceremonial, with the day-to-day grind of running the country allocated to a ruling body, such as a parliament.

There are still those individuals, however, who — not having been born to royalty — covet the title, the fawning courtiers, the pomp and circumstance . . . and no doubt the crown jewels . . . that such a position would carry with it. Not to mention that job security perk. And a few have figured out how to achieve their goal . . . most often by nefarious means.

Take Vladimir Putin, as a prime example.

Already second in command when Boris Yeltsin suddenly resigned (not to run off with an American divorcee) in December of 1999, Putin stepped up to complete Yeltsin’s term. He was then elected in March of 2000 to his first four-year term, followed by a second in 2004.

At that time, the Russian Constitution allowed just two consecutive terms — but it did not prohibit future additional terms after a one-term hiatus (or longer). So in 2008, Putin cleverly pulled the old switcheroo and traded places with his loyal Prime Minister, Dmitry Medvedev . . . while still, of course, remaining in control behind the scenes . . . until he was able to run again in 2012.

And here’s the good part. During that four-year period, Medvedev — at Putin’s behest, of course — rammed through the Parliament a constitutional amendment increasing the presidential term from four years to six. I think you can guess the next part. That’s right . . . in 2012 and 2018, Putin was again elected (to no one’s surprise), giving him twelve more years and taking him right up to 2024.

But then what? Forced retirement? Hell, no . . . not for old Vlad. Because in the meantime, yet another constitutional amendment had been quietly slipped through, removing the two-consecutive-terms limitation. As a result — as the world knows all too well — he is presently serving his fifth term in office, with yet another run for office possible in 2030, taking him to 2036 . . . that is, if he hasn’t run off with an American divorcee.

*. *. *

So what is the importance of this little tutorial in Russian history and political subterfuge? Well, it’s this guy:

Mouthing off as usual — this time in a phone interview with Kristen Welker of NBC News, he did not dismiss the idea of seeking a third term . . . again skirting the existence of the U.S. Constitution, in which the 22nd Amendment clearly states:

“No person shall be elected to the office of the President more than twice.”

It doesn’t say consecutively . . . just twice. Period.

But Trump said “there are methods” to achieve this, and emphasized that he was “not joking.” He added: “There are methods which [sic] you could do it.” [Alejandra Jaramillo, CNN, March 30, 2025.]

When Ms. Welker asked if he might consider having JD Vance run in 2028 and then “pass the baton” back to Trump, he replied:

“Well, that’s one. But there are others too.” [Id.]

Well, thanks for putting that thought into his head, Ms. Welker . . . in case he hadn’t already gotten the idea directly from his idol Putin.

Steve Bannon — who we all know lives in the same parallel universe as Trump — has suggested that Trump would indeed be eligible, since the 22nd Amendment doesn’t specify “consecutive” terms.

(Note to Bannon: No, it certainly doesn’t, dipshit. It says “twice” . . . period. He doesn’t get a third chance.)

Of course, there’s always the possibility of a constitutional amendment . . . and, in fact (and rather frighteningly), Tennessee Republican Representative Andy Ogles has already introduced legislation to that effect — with a specific provision that would exclude any former two-term presidents, such as Barack Obama, from coming out of retirement. [Id.]

But such an amendment would require two-thirds votes in both the House and the Senate, and ratification by three-fourths of the states. As Michael Waldman, President and CEO of the Brennan Center for Justice at New York University’s law school, said:

“It’s illegal. He has no chance. That’s all there is to say.” [Id.]

I would love to be able to take comfort from that. But considering the unconstitutional acts we’ve seen from this administration in just the past two months, I’m not sure I can.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/31/25

It was more than that nagging feeling of unease and depression — otherwise known as gloom and doom — that lately is renewed on a daily basis by the present state of the world. This morning, for some reason, I awoke feeling angry.

I mean really, really, “If-I-don’t-smash-someone’s-face-in-I’ll-explode” furious. It must have been something from my last dream of the night, though thankfully, I don’t remember what that was.

But I’m not the violent type; I don’t hit people, kick pigeons, or put my fist through walls. Even intentionally smashing a piece of china, while tempting, would only mean having to sweep it up. So instead, I deleted all of my research notes from the past 15 months, because they all related to the very subjects that are the cause of my anger.

It’s okay — it wasn’t a mistake. I’ve already gotten what I needed from them, and I can always re-Google them if necessary.

But I felt cleansed, as though I had washed away more than a year of information overkill. I know it doesn’t mean the horror of the past 15 months never happened; you can’t really erase history . . . nor should we. But at least it’s no longer staring me in the face every minute of the day.

You see, I realized this morning that I’ve reached the point in this life where the thought of eternal sleep no longer feels so frightening, but sometimes — after a day of digesting yet another 24-hour news cycle — actually seems like the best of a bunch of really bad options. And that made me furious.

No, no, no! I’m not going to . . .

Well, after all, if I can’t even smash a teacup . . .

But seriously, I’m just having one of those days when I can’t face any more news stories, opinions or analyses about wars, earthquakes, starving people in Sudan, political hostages in Russia, or the inmates running the cuckoo’s nest known as Washington. And I have simply transitioned from depression to anger.

Maybe that’s a good thing. Depression is debilitating, whereas anger can sometimes be directed toward something useful. Think of all those angry stand-up comics . . .

So I think I’ll stop writing for today, and do something therapeutic. I can no longer go jogging or work out at the gym; but I do have a couple of closets that could stand cleaning out.

Right after I grab some Haagen-Dazs from the freezer.

I’ll be fine.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/30/25

For those of you who weren’t paying attention back in high school Civics class — which would seem to include the entire current administration, half of the U.S. Congress (both houses), and a few members of the Supreme Court — this is the Constitution of the United States of America:

Note that it begins, “We the People . . .”

I know you’ve heard of it, because We the People keep bringing it up in our news articles, social media posts, and YouTube broadcasts. But have any of you actually read it?

Since 1789, it has been the supreme law — and the guiding principle — of this great country. It provides that the government’s power derives from We the People, and specifies limits to that power. It divides the government into three separate branches — Executive, Legislative and Judicial. And it calls for a system of checks and balances to prevent any of those branches from abusing its authority.

And as the country grew, a total of 27 amendments were added as required to keep current with the changing times. The first 10 of those amendments — adopted in 1791, just two years after the original document — are known as the Bill of Rights. Those are the rights of We the People — not you, the officials elected by We the People.

Have you forgotten that We the People elected you to protect those precious rights of ours? To protect this country from its enemies . . . not to cater to them, emulate them, or join with them? To serve us . . . not to subject us to your most maniacal whims?

You must have. Because over the past couple of months, it has become obvious that the very existence of that precious document has been — not merely overlooked — but intentionally, repeatedly contravened. And that is simply unacceptable.

So I am bringing it back into the daylight, sticking it under your noses, and demanding that you acknowledge it . . . read it . . . and obey it.

Because We the People will not settle for less.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/30/25

In the early months of Russia’s war against Ukraine, the city of Mariupol, located in the eastern Ukraine region of Donetsk, was defended in part by the Azov regiment. When the city fell to the brutal onslaught of the Russian forces, prisoners of war were taken, including members of the Azov regiment.

Twelve of those soldiers have just been convicted of terrorist activities and sentenced by a Russian military court to prison terms ranging from 13 to 23 years.

They were not tried as ordinary prisoners of war. Rather, their entire regiment has been declared by Russia to be a terrorist organization, thus depriving its members of their rightful protections under the Geneva Conventions of 1949 — to which both Russia and Ukraine are parties.

Russia’s rationale is that the group — known as the Azov Battalion — was founded by a hardline nationalist, Andriy Biletskiy, to fight the Russian forces that had invaded Ukraine’s Donbas region. However, in 2014, it was blended into the Ukrainian National Guard and disassociated from Biletskiy’s radical form of nationalism. It has remained apolitical since that time. In 2022, its members were ordinary soldiers, fighting for their country against an invading enemy.

When the nearly 2,500 fighters in Mariupol eventually surrendered to Russian forces in May of 2022, Vladimir Putin guaranteed that they would be treated according to international standards. But thus far, some 145 have been convicted as terrorists.

Ukraine’s human rights ombudsman, Dmytro Lubinets, has accused Russia of violating international humanitarian law, and called the verdicts “illegal”:

“Ukrainian prisoners of war are combatants, not criminals! They were fulfilling their duty to the state, protecting its territorial integrity and sovereignty.” [Yulia Dysa, Mark Trevelyan and Andrew Osborn, Reuters, March 26, 2025.]

Once again, Putin circumvents international law by ignoring the truth, twisting the facts, and accusing his victims of being the aggressors. And in so doing in this instance, he has created a new category of political prisoners: not civilian dissidents, but military combatants who had the courage to defend their country against his unprovoked invasion.

I do not have the names of these most recent hostages, but they deserve to be added to our list of those wrongfully imprisoned. I will, for now, simply call them “The Azov 12.”

*. *. *

And we continue to remember all of those on our list of unjustly held hostages in Vladimir Putin’s GULAG of penal colonies:

The Azov 12
David Barnes
Ales Bialiatski (in Belarus)
Gordon Black
Andrei Chapiuk (in Belarus)
Robert Gilman
Stephen James Hubbard
Ksenia Karelina
Ihar Karney (in Belarus)
Vadim Kobzev
Uladzimir Labkovich (in Belarus)
Michael Travis Leake
Aleksei Liptser
Ihar Losik (in Belarus)
Daniel Martindale
Farid Mehralizada (in Azerbaijan)
Nika Novak
Marfa Rabkova (in Belarus)
Igor Sergunin
Dmitry Shatresov
Robert Shonov
Eugene Spector
Valiantsin Stafanovic (in Belarus)
Siarhei Tsikhanouski (in Belarus)
Laurent Vinatier
Robert Romanov Woodland
Vladislav Yesypenko (in Crimea)
Yuras Zyankovich (in Belarus)

*. *. *

And — like a broken record — I again offer this plea to Donald Trump in the White House . . . though I assume it will likely continue to fall on deaf ears, as it has thus far:

“Amidst all of the hubbub of your new administration, it is imperative that these innocent men and women not be forgotten. Negotiations for their safe release have been underway for some time. President Joe Biden succeeded in bringing home 16 innocent people on August 1st of last year, and you have added two others to that list. But you should be trying to do even more. Whatever else you do, this should be high on your list of priorities. The people you promised to represent are counting on you.

“Perhaps this would be an appropriate time to remind you also of the oath you swore on January 20th:

“‘I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.’

“I’m sure there’s a copy of that Constitution lying around the White House. If not, you can Google it. This is what it looks like, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/30/25

Have you ever wondered why honey doesn’t spoil?

I never had, until — in a recent moment of intense boredom — I took the time to read an article explaining the science behind it. I’ll try to give you an abridged version, because I think it may be the answer to extending human life indefinitely . . . as though anyone really wants to do that in these turbulent times. But anyway . . .

The key to honey’s secret is its unique chemical makeup consisting of low moisture (around 17%) and high sugar content. “At 17%, its water content is much lower than that of bacteria or fungi. Honey also has a low water activity; this is a measure of the amount of water in a substance that is available to support microbial growth.” [Stacey Leasca, Food & Wine, March 9, 2025, citing Andy Brunning of Compound Interest, August 14, 2014.]

Okay. But how, you may ask, does the honey bees’ nectar — which is about 70% moisture — transform into the drier, viscous substance we know as honey? Well, that’s where the fun begins: it’s all thanks to those busy little buzzers:

“The bees achieve this by fanning the honeycomb with their wings in order to encourage rapid evaporation of water from the nectar mixture.” [Id.]

Apparently, the continuous flapping of their teeny-tiny wings reduces the water content to the required 17 percent, which is not easy and can take up to three days to accomplish.

Well, bless their little bee hearts!

But of course, the next logical question is how these fascinating facts can help you to live longer. Certainly not by eating gallons of honey; that will just make you fat.

Consider this: Each tablespoon of honey has approximately 64 calories. Thus: 1 gallon = 256 tbsp. x 64 cal. per tbsp. = 16,384 calories.

Not to mention that, probably somewhere around the 20th tablespoon, you’re going to start to gag from all that delicious sweetness. So, no . . . eating the honey is not the answer.

Now, the human body consists, on average, of around 60% water. But what if we were able to increase our sugar intake, decrease all that water and the other liquids that are supposed to be so good for us, and flap our arms continually for three days at a time, until we are dehydrated to the same 17% level as honey? Would we then also be resistant to bacteria, fungi, and the other microbial growths that make us sick? Is it just possible that — as with the preservation of fruits, vegetables and meats by dehydration — we could live for hundreds of years in a parched state?

But, more importantly, would we want to . . . if we looked like this?

All right . . . so this wasn’t one of my brightest ideas. But it was an interesting little lesson in both entomology and nutrition. And didn’t it take your mind off of all the other world news for just a little while?

You’re welcome, and happy weekend.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/29/25

As children, the vast majority of us were taught to share. If there was only one cookie left, your mother cut it in half so that you and your sibling each had an equal portion. When your friends came over to play, you were told to share your blocks so you could each build something. And you were likely asked, “There now, didn’t it feel good to share?”

And, for most of us, that lesson stuck. Because it does feel good to make someone else happy, or to relieve another person’s burden by offering a helping hand.

For most of us.

But there are always exceptions; we weren’t all blessed with parents who believed that morality is its own reward.

Take little Donnie, for example. Born into a wealthy family, his father owned a real estate empire that included racially-segregated, middle-class housing. Donnie was taught from a very early age that money — not morality — is the ultimate reward . . . money, and the power that comes with having a lot of it.

He probably didn’t care about toys like building blocks, which would have taught him that, if you stack them too high without a proper foundation, they will eventually topple; he was more interested in Monopoly, where he could own everything and hire others to do the actual building. And then he went off to the Wharton School of Business, where he learned to maximize his ingrained greed.

Donnie became far wealthier than even his father had ever imagined, and eventually — shockingly — ramrodded his way into the presidency of the United States of America.

*. *. *

Meanwhile, across the ocean in St. Petersburg, Russia, was little Vlad, whose childhood could not have been more different. Born into a less-than-affluent family — his father was a military conscript, his mother a factory worker — he was always the “underdog,” who quickly became known as a hoodlum and a street fighter. But he was smart, and learned the art of survival. Conscience, sympathy and empathy had no place in his life.

Vlad didn’t go to business school; he was enrolled in Leningrad State University, where he became fluent in the German language, was then enlisted into the KGB — the Soviet Union’s Committee of State Security — and was stationed for a time in East Germany. His life experiences had bestowed upon him the skills of patience, survival, and a killer instinct similar to that of a chess grand master . . . but on a much larger, more deadly, scale.

Little Vlad started with nothing, and wanted everything. He was determined to show the bullies of his childhood what he was made of, and he did . . . conniving his way, step by step, into the presidency of the Russian Federation.

*. *. *

And that was when, against all odds, their lives intertwined . . . not as friends, but as adversaries. Two men — overflowing with money and testosterone, and at the height of political power — each determined to outmaneuver the other for dominance. Picture two stags rutting over the same doe . . .

. . . until finally they realized that there is more than one doe in the forest — in fact, more than enough to keep both of them happy for a lifetime. And so they decided to do what their parents should have taught them decades earlier: Share.

But Donnie and Vlad are no longer teenage boys with uncontrolled hormonal urges. Their ambitions — and their competitiveness — go far beyond seeing who can deflower the greatest number of young females. Their targeted victims are now countries . . . and there are nearly 200 of those to choose from.

Well, Vlad already had his sights set on Ukraine, which he convinced himself rightfully belongs to Russia. In fact, he had already — in the manner of the street thug he truly is — declared war and invaded that sovereign nation. But the opposition turned out to be stronger than he had anticipated — including from the United States.

But there was an election, and now Donnie was in charge in the U.S., so there was a ray of hope: if Vlad could schmooze the big lummox and convince him U.S. policy toward Ukraine has been wrong all along . . . and if he could find something Donnie wanted in return . . . he could steal Ukraine out from under the noses of the rest of the world’s leaders.

And Donnie had made no secret of the fact that he wanted Greenland. It is strategically located, rife with precious natural resources, and — while technically part of the Kingdom of Denmark — it enjoys considerable autonomy, and is geographically part of the North American continent. However, the same things that make it attractive to Donnie — its Arctic location and valuable resources — also render it a desirable target for Russia.

So what do the Monopoly whiz and the chess player do? Quite simply, they team up, revealing to the world the burgeoning reblossoming of their former bromance. The resultant mutual flattery, in fact, becomes nothing short of nauseating.

Then Donnie begins pulling the U.S. away from Ukraine, putting military aid on hold and warning EU countries to pick up the slack . . . thus placing Ukraine in the untenable position of having to give in to Russia’s demands in order to stop the bloodbath.

Next, Donnie sends one of his hatchet men, JD (whose first name no one seems to know), to Greenland to insult the Danish government and demand that the citizens of Greenland come over to the U.S. side, for their own security.

And what is Vlad up to in the meantime? Why, he’s ignoring the partial ceasefire in Ukraine that was universally believed to have been agreed upon, continually lobbing missiles and drones at the Ukrainian populace while the U.S. is withholding the defensive materiel they desperately need to protect themselves.

But, though Vlad’s word usually means absolutely nothing, he keeps his promise to Donnie by making this seemingly magnanimous announcement at a Russian Arctic Forum in the city of Murmansk:

“In short, America’s plans in relation to Greenland are serious. These plans have deep historical roots. And it’s clear that the US will continue to systematically pursue its geo-strategic, military-political and economic interests in the Arctic.

“As for Greenland this is a matter for two specific countries. It has nothing to do with us.” [Steve Rosenberg, BBC, March 27, 2025.]

*. *. *

Donnie and Vlad are known to have had at least two lengthy phone conversations during this period, the details of which have not been made public. And in the absence of facts, my imagination has, as usual, created its own vivid scenario. Imagine, if you will:

Vlad: This special military operation has gone on long enough. I need a way to stop it without losing face, and without giving up my demands. Any ideas?

Donnie: Would it help if I were to say the U.S. demands that you enter into serious peace negotiations, and in the meantime we cut off aid to Ukraine?

Vlad: That’s perfect! We stall, keep blasting them, and they’ll be forced to capitulate. It’s foolproof. So, what can I do for you in return?

Donnie: Well, you know we want Greenland. Suppose you don’t oppose that, and once we have the island and you have Ukraine, we can do a deal to share the minerals from both places?

Vlad: Donnie, as always, I am in awe of your genius. Consider it done.

Check, and mate.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/29/25

Russian literature is not especially known for its lighter side. Think of Anna Karenina, The Brothers Karamazov, Crime and Punishment, War and Peace, Doctor Zhivago. All of them tragic . . . and all of them art imitating life, with maybe a bit more sex.

But every now and then, in real life, the Russian people are good for a laugh. Their political satire, for example, is delightfully caustic. And sometimes, quite accidentally, they can be at their wittiest when they’re trying to be serious.

Take, for example, an excerpt from the Wikipedia biography of one Sergey Naryshkin, which reads as follows:

“Sergey Yevgenyevich Naryshkin . . . is a Russian politician who has served as the director of the Foreign Intelligence Service [FSB, successor to the KGB] since 2016. Previously, he was Chairman of the State Duma (2011-2016) and Kremlin Chief of Staff (2008-2012); . . .”

So far, so good . . . right? But here is where that Russian wit shows itself:

“ . . . he was also chairman of the Historical Truth Commission from May 2009 until it was dissolved in February 2012.”

“Historical Truth”? Is that anything like “Military Intelligence”?

Well, of course it was dissolved. Who needs truth, historical or otherwise? It just gets in the way, like when you’re about to invade another country and claim that it really belongs to you.

Oh, those funny, funny Russians!

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/28/25

You may have noticed that I write a lot about Russia: my past travels there in the late 1980s and early 90s, her history, her culture, the beauty of her varied landscapes and cityscapes, and the warmth of her ordinary people.

Mostly, though, I write about Russian politics, and the murderous, totalitarian regime of Vladimir Putin.

I hold nothing back in calling out Putin and his minions — Lavrov, Medvedev, Shoigu, Patrushev, Dugin, Naryshkin, and all the others — for their undisguised crimes against humanity, both in their own country and what they call “the near abroad” . . . those areas once part of the Soviet Union . . .

. . . for the blatant lies, and twisting the truth to deflect blame onto everyone but themselves . . .

. . . and most of all, for the decimation of the sovereign nation of Ukraine, on the specious excuse that it “belongs” — according to their reimagined version of history — to Russia.

I hold no illusions as to Putin’s future expansionist agenda; his maniacal compulsion to destroy Western dominance and replace it with an alliance of his own creation; or his manipulation of a pitifully naive Donald Trump in order to achieve those goals.

And I freely express my outrage at his imprisonment of political opponents, journalists and others — both Russian and foreign — to be held as pawns in his political chess games.

I hold these viewpoints, and claim the absolute right to express them, because I am an American. As such, I enjoy the freedom of expression, freedom of choice, freedom of . . .

But wait a minute. That has always been the case, from the day I was born until . . . let’s see now . . . two months and eight days ago. Until the world began spinning out of control, and millions of Americans, myself included, suddenly realized that those rights and freedoms and blessings of which we have always been so proud and so grateful had begun to erode . . . not gradually, bit-by-bit, but seemingly all at once, practically overnight.

And I awoke this morning, after a vaguely disturbing dream the details of which I can no longer recall, to the horrible reality that my country is no longer the land of the free, where every individual has the same precious rights under the law as every other individual . . . and, more frighteningly, that there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

Because I am one small, insignificant person — not wealthy, not famous, not influential. I voted, as I do in every election; but my vote wasn’t sufficient. All I can do now is speak out, and hope that enough voices will join mine in a chorus that will be heard.

In the meantime, I have asked myself whether, in good conscience, I now have the right to criticize the people of another country — Russia — for “putting up with” the autocracy that has been forced upon them, when I am in precisely the same situation . . . when the person sitting at the head of my government is engaging in the same sort of lying, manipulative, threatening, illegal, ham-fisted control over the people and the institutions of the United States as Vladimir Putin wields over the Russian people?

Is that not the pot calling the kettle black?

*. *. *

After much soul-searching, I have decided that the answer is no . . . it’s not the same. Because I now realize that we are not, simply by reason of being Americans, superior to the people of Russia or any other country. Thomas Jefferson famously said, “The government you elect is the government you deserve.” And the evidence of his wisdom is clearly before us today.

We — a slim majority of Americans — elected Donald Trump, not just once, but a shocking second time. And we are watching him stack our most vital institutions with unqualified, inept, self-serving billionaires who have set about gleefully annihilating entire agencies, ignoring laws and targeting judges who dare try to enforce them, endangering our environment, weakening our economy, and destroying international relationships so carefully built and nurtured over decades, in order to join forces with the arch enemy of everything America has always stood for: Vladimir Putin.

*. *. *

So I continue to claim the right to speak out, as long as I also recognize that Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump are two sides of the same coin. The only difference is that Trump believes he is smarter than Putin . . . whereas Putin knows better.

And that realization has left me and all of my fellow Americans who didn’t vote for him (and more than a few who did) feeling, well . . .

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/28/25

I’m getting a little tired of regurgitating the daily menu of bad news, and making endless lists of the things that are wrong with the world. So — with your indulgence — I’m going to try a little self-administered therapy today: I’m going to concentrate on things for which I am most thankful. And not just the usual things, like family, friends and reasonably good health . . . but some things we don’t always think about. Such as:

The Kardashians. No, I haven’t flown over the cuckoo’s nest . . . I am not thankful for their presence, but for the fact that they are so seldom in the news lately . . . and that goes for Ye (the scumbag formerly known as Kanye West) as well. Oh, there are the pop-up ads for Kim’s line of sleazy-looking . . . what? . . . I guess you’d call them some kind of apparel. But I can just ignore those. So, all in all, I’m grateful.

*. *. *

And there’s much more that I’m thankful not to have to put up with any longer. For example, the constant presence of . . .

Justin Bieber. Same reason — he’s still out there, and I wish him only good things (and a better wardrobe). But he’s no longer front-page news every day, day after endless day, for doing nothing discernibly worthwhile. Grateful.

*. *. *

World War II. It’s been over for 80 years. Hallelujah! Let’s not reincarnate it, shall we? Then we can all express our gratitude.

*. *. *

Menopause. Been there, done that, survived it. Once was enough, thank you. Glad it’s over.

*. *. *

Jello molds. Remember those? They always remind me of a line from one of my favorite sitcoms, The Golden Girls, when feisty old Sophia says, “If God had wanted peaches suspended in mid-air, He would have filled them with helium.” I’m with you, Sophia.

*. *. *

Garter belts and girdles. Most uncomfortable things in the world. But we needed something to hold up our nylon stockings, until some genius invented panty hose.

*. *. *

Panty hose. They were an improvement, but still not perfect because they didn’t always fit every figure. And then there were the defective ones, like the pair I was wearing one day when I left the office to run an errand and on the way back I felt the hose slipping slowly down . . . down . . . down . . . until the waistband was below my abdomen and the crotch was somewhere in the vicinity of my knees. Luckily, I was wearing a raincoat and was able to put my hands into the pockets, grab onto the waistband of the hose through my clothes, and keep them from hitting the ground as I Geisha-walked back to the office, where I removed them in the ladies’ room. But I did not throw them away; I took them home, washed them out that night, and the next day mailed them to the manufacturer with a rather hilarious explanatory note. P.S. — I received an apology and three pairs of correctly-sized replacements. Very grateful I only wear slacks and jeans now, so no need for the panty hose . . . ever.

*. *. *

Beehive hairdos. I never had one, but I did have to look at them on other women. I always imagined them being full of things like insects and the unidentifiable stuff that’s always flying around in the air. Eeeew!

*. *. *

Typewriter ribbons and carbon paper. I did love the feel of the keys on the IBM Model B electric typewriter . . . but not so much the accoutrements (good word!) that went with it, like the messy ribbons that invariably got ink all over your hands, and likewise the carbon paper for the multiple copies you had to make before there were Xerox machines. And don’t forget the WhiteOut and erasers to correct your errors. I will say, my typing was much more accurate in those days — it had to be, in the ancient times before “Delete” keys and Spellcheck.

*. *. *

Come to think of it, the list of things we lived with in the past that have been superseded by something better is practically endless. But what’s new is not always an improvement. And if I were able to rid the world of just five things — not acts of nature, but manmade things that are within our control — it would be these:

Wars. Particularly the modern weaponry that allows us to slaughter thousands of people, hundreds of miles away, without ever having to put a human face on them.

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Artificial Intelligence. Frankly, AI scares the crap out of me. The thought of all of those brilliant people out there, creating technology to replace human beings (themselves included), is incomprehensible to me, and thus terrifying.

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Cilantro. Such a little thing, but I didn’t want to ask only for the big stuff. And it really does taste like soap.

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Politics. All right, I know this isn’t realistic . . . in a world of 8.2 billion people, we need some form of government. But a girl can dream, can’t she? Barring this one, though, I’ll settle for doing away with . . .

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The entire Trump administration. Actually, this should have been #1. Just send them back to their respective home states, and make them live on Social Security benefits.

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And that’s a wrap.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/27/25

Way, way, w-a-a-a-y back when I was a schoolgirl in New Hampshire, communication was simple. In some rural areas, you still placed phone calls through an operator employed by the telephone company; and you might even have a “party line” that you shared with another local family whom you may or may not have known. Our town was advanced: we had dial phones and private lines. But you could only talk to one other person at a time.

On one particular evening after dinner, I was on the phone with one of my classmates reviewing a homework assignment, when we suddenly heard two distinctly male voices overriding our conversation. We listened for a moment, then started calling out, “Hello? Hello? Who’s on this line?”

At first there was silence; then one of the two males responded: “Well, who are you?”

After a minute of back-and-forth, it turned out that they were two boys from our school. We introduced ourselves, had a good laugh and a nice chat, and chalked it up to “crossed wires.” I can’t explain the cause of the mix-up; it was a simple technical glitch — the sort that happened in those days.

It wasn’t the result of some idiot’s royal fuck-up of a classified, high-level, supposedly secure government “chat” concerning an imminent military aerial attack on an adversarial country.

Well, that’s exactly what hit the fan this week in Washington when a conference over an usecured Signal chat app, scheduled to include Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard, CIA Director John Ratcliffe, National Security Adviser Mike Waltz, and even Middle East special envoy Steve Witkoff . . . who was in Moscow for meetings with Vladimir Putin when he joined the call! These were the people at the very top of the national security food chain. But somehow a number had been added to the approved list of participants . . . that of an international journalist, no less.

Jeffrey Goldberg of The Atlantic initially wasn’t sure whether the invitation he received to join the chat was legitimate. Once he realized that it was, and understood the substance of the conversation as having national security implications, he did the only thing he could do: he reported what had happened, without publicly disclosing any classified information. And had someone in the administration been wearing their big-boy panties and taken grown-up responsibility for the blunder, it probably would have ended there.

But this was Washington, where the first impulse is always to deny one’s own culpability, and the second move is to find a scapegoat. So the “Washington Blame Game” began, together with the denials.

Along with a lot of “he-said-she-said,” and people claiming that no classified matters were discussed during the call, the White House and the Pentagon tried to toss a few buckets of whitewash on the whole thing by declassifying everything that could conceivably have been considered classified at the time of the call. But that was another huge mistake, in more ways than one.

Now, Senate Armed Services Committee Chairman Roger Wicker and Democratic panel member Senator Jack Reed are asking for an Inspector General report on the Signal chat for the committee to review, along with a classified briefing from a senior official. Wicker said that the information discussed in the chat was “of such a sensitive nature that, based on my knowledge, I would have wanted it classified.” [Natasha Bertrand, Zachary Cohen, Betsy Klein and Shania Shelton, CNN, March 26, 2025.]

And an (understandably) anonymous Defense Department official has said: “It is safe to say that anybody in uniform would be court martialed for this. We don’t provide that level of information on unclassified systems, in order to protect the lives and safety of the servicemembers carrying out these strikes. If we did, it would be wholly irresponsible. My most junior analysts know not to do this.” [Id.]

Well, perhaps those junior analysts should be running things in D.C. Because Pentagon spokesman Sean Parnell continued to argue: “These additional Signal chat messages confirm there were no classified materials or war plans shared. The Secretary was merely updating the group on a plan that was underway and had already been briefed through official channels. The American people see through the Atlantic’s pathetic attempts to distract from President Trump’s national security agenda.” [Id.]

Right . . . blame the media.

But, as they used to say in the Old West . . . “them’s fightin’ words.“

And so, seeing clearly that the American people were being lied to in order to conceal the total ineptness of the current administration, the folks at The Atlantic did what they do best: they came out fighting, and told the truth. They printed portions of the chat, clearly demonstrating the classified nature of some of the information while redacting portions they felt were too sensitive to publicize.

And then, inevitably, we heard from Donald Trump, who — some eight years after his first election to office — is still relying on the same stale, boring, paranoid retorts. He said, “It’s all a witch-hunt.” [Id.]

And from the equally trustworthy White House press secretary, Karoline Leavitt, we received a social media post claiming that: “The Atlantic has conceded: these were NOT ‘war plans.’ This entire story was another hoax written by a Trump-hater who is well-known for his sensationalist spin.” [Id.]

By the way, you’ll be relieved to know that Ms. Leavitt has assured the American people that Witkoff was receiving the texts in Moscow — in freakin’ Moscow! — on “a secure line of communication [provided] by the U.S. Government, and it was the only phone he had in his possession while in Moscow.” [Id.]

Oh, well . . . I feel much better now.

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At this point, I would normally offer a little summation, but I’m sure it isn’t necessary . . . this story has been at the top of the news all week. And if you’ve read this far, you’ve undoubtedly figured out for yourself that we are in deep doo-doo, folks.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/27/25