I am not a Costco shopper, for the simple reason that buying in bulk isn’t practical for me — a single person with limited storage space. I have visited their stores in the past, mostly out of curiosity, and was both fascinated by the variety of their stock and impressed by the savings that could be enjoyed by a large family.

But not being a regular visitor, I have been unaware of the true scope of the possibilities offered for the low price of a Costco membership. Until today, that is, when I read that “Costco is now selling platinum bars for $1,089.” [CNN 5 things a.m., October 4, 2024.]

Whoa! What was that again?

I had known that you could find anything at a Costco store from toilet paper to clothes to vitamins to supposedly the world’s best salmon. And that bigger items — furniture, major appliances, and even cars and trucks — were available online. But platinum bars?

“Is that even legal?” — I asked myself. Of course, it must be, or they wouldn’t be able to do it (not openly, anyway). But I read that they had also once offered gold bars, and I was under the impression that they were limited by some government regulation or other. Obviously, I was mistaken.

Now, I am a big Amazon shopper. It’s convenient, usually cost-effective, and they have virtually everything. But I never even considered that they might be a source for gold. So I did a search.

The first item I came up with was a snack bar by Grab The Gold — “Organic, Gluten free, Vegan, Kosher, & Dairy Free – 11g of Protein.” Interesting, especially in the chocolate peanut butter variety, but not what I was looking for. So, moving on . . .

Aha! Here was a “1 Gram Swiss Gold Fortuna PAMP Suise Bar (New w/Assay) in gift pouch,” for $139.99. And another, similar item (though “Suisse” was spelled with two esses), minus the gift pouch but specifying .9999 fine gold, for $135.00. Pricing those out, at about 28 grams to the ounce, an ounce would be worth $3,780.00.

And then I hit the jackpot: the amazing “Chow Sang Sang 999.9 24K Solid Gold Price-by-Weight Gold Koi Fish Ingot for Women and Men (10 Grams, 0.35 Oz),” for the “bargain” price of $1,176.00. Multiply that out, and it comes to $3,360.00 for a full ounce.

Compared to those Swiss bars ($3,780/oz.), that would be a good price. But at today’s market price of $2,660/oz. for gold, it’s a total rip-off, even with the beautiful design. And so is the Amazon price.

Chow Sang Sang is a legitimate Hong Kong jewelry company, listed on the Hong Kong Stock Exchange. And the whole world knows how great Amazon is. But that doesn’t mean their prices are always going to be the best.

It’s one thing to buy a pretty piece of 14K jewelry from Costco or Amazon — you can always have it appraised by your favorite jeweler, and return it if it turns out to be disappointing. But gold bars are not trinkets; they are an investment. My main concern, other than the inflated price, is whether there is a way to determine the true purity of the gold. Has it been altered in any way? And if you’re not satisfied with your purchase, is it returnable and fully refundable?

I keep thinking back to a very old saying: “All that glitters is not gold.”

So maybe I’ll just grab the 144 rolls of toilet paper and a few pounds of salmon, and call it a day.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/4/24

Now, that’s how you fight a war!

First, you have the Ministry of Finance increase the defense budget for the coming year by a whopping 30 percent.

Then, on the same day, you issue a decree calling for more than 130,000 additional citizens between the ages of 18 and 30 to be drafted into military service by the end of the year. [Benjamin Quenelle, Le Monde, October 1, 2024.]

Done, and done.

Apparently, Vladimir Putin has no intention of ending his “special military operation” in Ukraine in the foreseeable future. Yet the announcement of this latest conscription assured the Russian people that these new draftees “will not be involved [in the] special operation [zones].” The same promise has been made before; but families have told of their young men being sent to the front. [Id.] Or perhaps they’ll be utilized in the fighting at the rear, where Ukrainian troops have crossed into and occupied portions of Russia’s Kursk region.

Vice-Admiral Vladimir Tsimlyansky, head of Russia’s conscription office, has described the term of the latest draft as being the same as always: for twelve months of service. “I would like to note that conscripts will not be called up to participate in the special military operation in the new regions,” he is quoted as saying. [Lidia Kelly, Reuters, September 30, 2024.]

This latest move follows on the heels of Putin’s order in September that the Russian army be increased by 180,000 troops to 1.5 million active servicemen, making it the second largest in the world after China’s. [Id.]

So that’s how it’s done: no Congressional (or Parliamentary) approval or expert opinion required; no discussion, no arguing, no delays. Just the word from on high.

That’s what they call an autocracy. And it works . . . but it stinks.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/4/24

“Sobesednik” is the Russian word for “Interlocutor.” Now, with the designation of the publisher of Russia’s last independent print news medium, Sobesednik, as a “foreign agent,” the Interlocutor is indeed dead.

It began in February of this year, on the 40th anniversary of the founding of the weekly newspaper, when the staff were visited by a colonel from the Orwellian-inspired “Centre for Combating Extremism,” a branch of the Russian Interior Ministry. One by one, they were called into a separate room for questioning. [Lucy Papachristou, Reuters, October 2, 2024.]

The previous day, the paper had featured a two-page spread on the death of opposition leader Alexei Navalny, who had died under mysterious circumstances in a Siberian prison colony. Included were a lengthy obituary, coverage of the vigils that had been held in his honor, and a large picture of Navalny with the caption, “… but there is hope!” [Id.]

The journalists knew that the mere printing of Navalny’s name was risky, but that is what this paper did: it presented the truth.

Nothing happened, other than the confiscation of that print run, and business continued as usual, without interference . . . until September. The papers’s editor-in-chief, Oleg Roldugin, had waited in dread for repercussions, and they came when the authorities officially labeled the paper’s publisher a “foreign agent” — a moniker held over from Soviet times, which today carries oppressive reporting requirements. In addition, each article in the future would have to be prefaced with a statement that its publisher was a foreign agent.

According to Roldugin, “It would be impossible to read. The paper would have to be sold sealed and labelled ‘18+’ like pornography. Because we did journalism instead of propaganda.

”It’s impossible to carry on.” [Id.]

Roldugin knew that his advertisers would be frightened off; further publication was out of the question. The paper suspended publication.

This was hardly a unique event. Under Vladimir Putin’s reign, nearly all independent media have disappeared, being shut down completely or forced into exile. Only state-controlled media remain.

*. *. *

Dmitry Bykov began writing for Sobesednik in its first year, while he was still a journalism student, eventually becoming an editor and contributing an estimated 3,000 articles. He spoke of the many Russians who have read the paper throughout their entire adult lives; and the fact that now, their “constant, sincere, unobtrusive and well-informed conversation partner” is gone. [Id.]

“We were regularly sued,” Bykov continued. He said that their paper had frequently upset Moscow’s notorious previous Mayor, Yuri Luzhkov, during his years in office (1992-2010), and that lawsuits against them had become more frequent during Putin’s presidency. [Id.]

No surprise there. Vladimir Putin has no use for the truth, and has become quite adept at erasing it and dispensing with those who persist in speaking or writing it.

*. *. *

And thus fades another spark of truth and hope in Russia. The Russia that I knew and fell in love with in the early 1990s is no more. They are once again the “glavniy vrag” — the main enemy; and I weep for them and with them.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/4/24

I just read a story about a 97-year-old lady who had recently passed away. When asked whether the woman had had any particular secret to her longevity, a relative replied that she loved her beer and her ice cream, and never saw any reason to cut back on either one.

I am happy to report that, thanks to that spunky lady, I no longer carry any guilt for my nightly serving of Haagen-Dazs. In fact, I may have a little extra tonight, to compensate for the absence of beer, which I simply don’t like. Or maybe a little wine instead . . .

I’m nowhere near 97, but now I’m not worried about whether my ice cream addiction might be shortening my life expectancy. I believe it is, in fact, extending it.

Off to the freezer now. Anyone care to join me?

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/3/24

They don’t seem to make the news any longer, this pioneering (translation: idiotic) family of ten who sold their farm in Canada, packed up and moved to the golden land of opportunity and anti-LGBTQ: Russia.

No longer able to tolerate the perceived immorality of their native land, the parents, Arend and Anneesa, sought refuge in the one place they felt they could be free — get that? free! — to be their natural, ultra-conservative selves, raising eight of their nine children in peace and harmony.

Oy!

The ninth child — a son — opted to stay behind in Canada. Smart kid.

But, for all of their obvious ignorance of the facts of life, I can’t just write them off, because I can’t stop thinking about those eight youngsters now growing up Russian. So every now and then, I check in on their YouTube program, even though I know it’s closely monitored for political correctness, Russian-style. At least it assures me that they’re all still alive.

The dad, Arend, goes on endlessly about the details of building their big new house on their big new farm, which is pretty boring to watch. It’s also a nice piece of propaganda, supposedly demonstrating what can be accomplished in Russia with a little hard work and perseverance. And money.

Speaking of which . . . their original bankroll must surely be running low by now, and they don’t seem to have any local source of income. But their YouTube channel does mention something about donations . . . And in another episode, Arend said something about a septic tank “that we were provided.” He didn’t say by whom.

*. *. *

Anyway, about the youngsters. I’m sorry I don’t know their names or much about them. They seem like really nice kids, who just happen to have been born to a couple of well-meaning though seriously misguided bigots.

In the episode I watched the other day, the children were harvesting vegetables from their farm: huge pumpkins, zucchini on steroids, beets, carrots, onions, and the like. Even for such a large family it seemed a lot — perhaps they are able to sell some of it. More likely, Mom will be doing a lot of canning for the long winter ahead.

The conversation among the children was obviously scripted, all having to do with the wonderful vegetables they were gathering. What impressed me was the ease with which the kids are obviously picking up the Russian language. The eldest — a daughter who looked as though she should be getting ready for the prom, not grubbing around in the dirt — spoke for the camera in full Russian sentences. Though she hesitated from time to time, and obviously was still thinking in English, her pronunciation was excellent, she was grammatically correct, and she knew the names of all of the veggies. And the younger siblings understood her and responded appropriately.

So yes, they’ll adapt and fit in very nicely. Which is what bothers me. Not that I want them to be misfits; I’d just rather they had been able to remain Canadians. But that decision was not mine to make.

Also, the second oldest daughter — the one with glasses — had a big patch over her right eye in the video. No mention was made of it, so I don’t know the reason for it. I just hope that, out there in the countryside, they have access to decent medical care.

But for those of you who, like me, continue to be concerned about the welfare of the Feenstras, at least we know that they’re doing better than they started out that first week.

I do wonder, though — and I really don’t know the answer — about what will happen when the oldest boy reaches conscription age.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/3/24

NATO has a new Secretary General, following the close of Jens Stoltenberg’s term. He is Mark Rutte, former Prime Minister of the Netherlands.

And predictably, my favorite Russian mouthpiece — Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov — had a few thoughts on the subject. Saying that Vladimir Putin was well acquainted with Rutte, he told the world that:

“Our expectations are that the North Atlantic alliance will continue to work in the same direction in which it has been working.

“At one time, there were hopes for the possibility of building good pragmatic relations — at least, such a dialogue was conducted — but subsequently we know that the Netherlands took a rather irreconcilable position, a position on the complete exclusion of any contacts with our country.

“Therefore, we do not think that anything significantly new will happen in the alliance’s policy.” [Dmitry Atonov and Mark Trevelyan, Reuters, October 1, 2024.]

Well, he started out on the right track. But in the next breath it was, basically, “Blow it out your ditty bag, NATO.”

While taking a dim view (to say the least) of the prospects of improved relations between Russia and NATO, Peskov is not altogether wrong — other than that “irreconcilable position” thing, where as usual he shifts the blame for Russia’s own actions onto the nearest scapegoat.

On Tuesday, Rutte told reporters at NATO headquarters in Brussels:

“We have to make sure that Ukraine prevails as a sovereign, independent, democratic nation.” [Id.]

That’s pretty much what you were talking about, isn’t it, Dima? You expected business as usual. Hope that’s “usual” enough for you.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/3/24

While Ukraine hunkers down for its third winter of Russia’s devastating invasion; and while Russian fighter jets buzz American aircraft off of Alaska’s shores; and as Vladimir Putin continues to threaten the West with nuclear annihilation . . . emergency warning sirens are blaring throughout Russia, in eerie echoes of Cold War days.

This is nothing new. Begun in 2020, the now twice-yearly exercise has doubled in frequency since the Russian invasion of Ukraine in February of 2022. According to the Russian Emergency Ministry, its purpose is to check the systems, the readiness of the persons responsible for launching them, and to raise public awareness — adding, “Don’t panic — everything is according to a plan.” [Lidia Kelly, Reuters, October 2, 2024.]

I’m sure that makes the people feel much better as the sirens blast for a full minute, accompanied by loudspeakers shouting “Attention everyone!” and TV and radio broadcasts are interrupted. I know that would make my day.

Yet, it’s understandable. In the face of a war that they themselves started, they seem to have been surprised at the recent retaliatory strikes by Ukraine on Russian territory. While on-the-ground incursions have thus far been limited to the regions around Kursk near the Ukraine border, there have been drone strikes in the Moscow region and perilously close to the Kremlin itself. And Vladimir Putin is worried about the possibility of Ukraine’s eventual use of long-range missiles aimed deeper into Russia.

Of course, Putin and his perspicacious propaganda puppets will find a way to turn this around, blaming us — the West — for having put them on the defensive and creating an atmosphere of fear in their poor, beleaguered country.

Well, do your best, Mr. Putin. The world knows perfectly well who started this on February 24, 2022. In your unbounded arrogance, you simply overlooked the possibility of retribution.

So how does it feel?

Oh . . . that bad, huh?

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/3/24

Today in Moscow, four Russian journalists went on trial — in a single proceeding — on charges of having worked with an “extremist organization” in 2021. That organization: the late Alexei Navalny’s Anti-Corruption Foundation (ACF). The “crime” with which they have been charged carries a penalty of up to six years in prison. All four have, rightly, pled not guilty.

Three of the four — Gabov, Favorskaya and Karelin — had already made it onto my earlier hostage list; Artyom Kriger will be added now.**

Favorskaya and Kriger worked with SotaVision, an independent Russian news outlet that covers protests and political trials. Gabov, a freelance producer, has worked for multiple organizations, including Reuters. And Karelin, a freelance video journalist, has also worked for Western media outlets, including the Associated Press. [Dasha Litvinova, Associated Press, October 2, 2024.]

Unusually, the defendants were permitted to speak from behind the glass of the prisoners’ box before the court declared the proceedings closed. Kriger advised independent journalists remaining in Russia to leave, saying, “It is not a joke, any person can be charged with anything.” [Id.]

And Favorskaya took advantage of the opportunity to strike a note of hope: “Everything that is happening now, the darkness that surrounds us, it is not forever, and we will definitely see the country that Alexei (Navalny) dreamed of, we will definitely live in a country where rights and freedoms will be (respected) and journalists and other people will not be jailed for their views.” [Id.]

And then the doors were closed, at the request of the prosecution, despite defense objection. As in the other politically-motivated cases, the verdict is assumed to be “Guilty,” with only the length of the sentence remaining in question.

In an interview with the Associated Press, SotaVision founder Alexandra Ageyeva said that her journalists are regularly detained while working. She specifically mentioned instances when Kriger and Favorskaya were followed — Kriger while covering protests, and Favorskaya while reporting on Navalny’s court cases.

She said as to the trial, “. . . we expect the worst. And we expect a further crackdown on our news outlet. Of course, we’re not violating any laws, we’re working completely openly. But, apparently, independent journalism is too dangerous for the current regime.” [Id.]

That statement alone required an act of great courage on Ageyeva’s part.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/2/24

** NOTE:

The list of hostages originally included four Americans who were among the prisoners released in the historic spy swap of August 1, 2024:

Evan Gershkovich
Vladimir Kara-Murza
Alsu Kurmasheva
Paul Whelan

Those remaining, to my knowledge, are:

Ilya Yashin
Staff Sgt. Gordon Black
Robert Woodland Romanov
Marc Hilliard Fogel
Ksenia Karelina
Stephen James Hubbard
Robert Gilman
David Barnes
Eugene Spector
Michael Travis Leake
Boris Akunin
Asya Kazantseva
Ilya Barabanov
Aleksandr Skobov
Antonina Favorskaya
Oleg Orlov
Boris Kagarlitsky
Oleg Navalny
Ksenia Fadeyeva
Lilia Chanysheva
Vadim Ostanin
Sergei Udaltsov
Danuta Perednya
Olesya Krivtsova
Konstantin Gabov
Sergey Karelin
Sergey Mingazov
Artyom Kriger

And perhaps more . . .

It’s almost that time of year again: time for the annual BRICS summit. This year’s gathering will be hosted by Vladimir Putin in Kazan, Russia, from October 22-24, presumably with all of the pomp and ceremony for which Russians have long been known.

BRICS is an organization that was supposed to have been created “to highlight investment opportunities, . . . [but] evolved into an actual geopolitical bloc . . .” [Wikipedia, last edited July 26, 2024.] And they have been meeting annually, and sometimes in between, since the group’s inception in 2009.

Current membership consists of the five founding members — Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa — plus Iran, Egypt, Ethiopia, the United Arab Emirates, and most recently, Saudi Arabia. Their real purpose: to create a new world order, carved in their own image.

And one of the topics on this year’s agenda will no doubt be Russia’s “special military operation” in Ukraine, and the involvement of the United States and its Western allies in the defense of Ukraine.

In these weeks prior to that summit, we’ve heard repeated threats from Vladimir Putin and other members of the Russian hierarchy to the effect that any attack on Russian soil, even with conventional weapons, could well result in nuclear retaliation. Is the timing of these increased warnings coincidental, or will Russia be seeking the support of its fellow BRICS members in its stance against Western aid to Ukraine? We shall see.

And now, another voice — that of Deputy Foreign Minister Sergei Ryabkov — has been added to the din. Ryabkov, who is in charge of overseeing arms control and relations with Washington, was quoted yesterday as follows:

“We must prepare for a long-term confrontation with this country. We are ready for this in every sense. We are sending all the warning signals to our opponent so that it does not underestimate our determination.” [Guy Faulconbridge, Reuters, October 1, 2024.]

* . * . *

Yes, it’s more of what we’ve been hearing from Putin, from Lavrov, from Medvedev, from Peskov. But the repetition alone, the frequency of the threats, and the number of people from whom the threats are issuing, all combine to create a sense that they’re not just making conversation.

Might it be bravado? bullying? bluffing? bluster? bullshit? It’s possible, of course. And I’m not saying we should make a mad dash for the nearest shelter. But we — our U.S. government and its allies — shouldn’t ignore it either. I’m reasonably certain they’re not, but . . .

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/2/24

You probably think you’re afraid of the possibility of a broken bone, or a concussion. But what it really is, is the embarrassment. Especially if you can’t get yourself back up without help. And you have to call 9-1-1, even though you’re not hurt. You know that commercial that goes, “Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up”? It’s not so funny when it’s you . . . all alone . . . down there on the floor . . . on your ass.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s go back five or six years . . .

There I was, the consummate City Girl, happily living by myself in my big, beautiful apartment in a big, beautiful high-rise apartment building in northern Virginia, just eight miles outside of big, beautiful Washington, D.C. I’d lived in the D.C. area since the age of 13, and in that apartment for some 30 years — the last 25 or so on my own. I had even done a couple of solo overseas expat stints, in Prague and Moscow, back in the early ‘90s. Fiercely independent, I knew how to take care of myself.

But even the smartest, the toughest, the most careful of us stumble now and then. On this occasion, I was merely bending over to pick up a piece of paper I had dropped, lost my equilibrium, and felt myself going — oddly enough, not in the forward direction toward which I had been aimed, but backward. And in slow motion.

“Oo-o-o-o-o-o-h . . . no-o-o-o-o-o-o!!!!!”

. . . I heard myself moaning in an unnaturally deep voice. Or at least that’s how it sounded in my head, as I ever-so-slowly (I thought) drifted toward the floor, trying desperately to grab for something solid that wasn’t there.

And then I hit the floor with a thud that must have had the folks on the floor below thinking the building had been hit with a wrecking ball. And as I snapped out of my slo-mo state, I realized I had simply sat down hard, landing on the best-padded part of me, and luckily not hitting my head or twisting any limbs. I was fine, though my backside was going to be one massive bruise.

But I had this long-standing problem — an orthopedic one. Actually, several of them. Two artificial (steel and titanium) knees; five fused lumbar vertebrae; two surgically-repaired rotator cuffs; four calling birds; three French hens . . . No, not the last two. But all the others.

And all of that makes it difficult — sometimes impossible — for me to haul myself up. But I had to try. So I butt-crawled to the nearest living room chair to use as a prop, but it was too tall. Next I tried the stone-top coffee table, but it was too low. And as I looked around, I realized there was no “Goldilocks” piece of furniture that I could grab onto in order to pull myself up off the freakin’ floor.

The one thing I did have was my phone. So I made the call.

And here’s where I felt about as stupid as I ever had before or since. That is, until I heard the 9-1-1 operator’s question. I told her what had happened, that I was not injured but had mobility issues and couldn’t get myself up from the floor. She said she’d send the EMTs, and I remembered to tell her that I had latched the safety chain on my apartment door, so they would need to bring heavy-duty bolt cutters with them. And she said:

“Well, can you take the chain off before they get there?”

[Pause for laughter and snide comments about intelligence.]

My first thought was, “Yeah, lady, the chain is down here at floor level.” But what I said was, “Ma’am, if I could stand up to reach the chain, I wouldn’t need to call you for help.”

I wish I could have seen her face as she paused, then apologized and said the EMTs were on their way . . . with the bolt cutters.

The nearest fire station was just five minutes away, so they arrived post haste — all four of them. Three men and a woman, just to pick little old me up from the floor. I had managed to butt-scoot over to the door and reach the door knob to unlock it and to prop the door open slightly, so that when they arrived I could simply tell them to cut their way in. And when they snapped that chain and walked in, there I was — sitting like Buddha’s mother in the middle of the living room rug, laughing myself silly. Because it really was funny.

And they smiled, but were professional enough not to laugh outright, though they obviously wanted to. They insisted on checking my vitals and asking a few questions, and finally one huge guy stepped around behind me, put his big meathooks under my armpits, and in one motion lifted me up so easily and so quickly I thought he was going to toss me up in the air. Which would have been fun too, as long as he caught me on the way down again.

And that was it. They did their job; the building management was kind enough to replace the door chain without charge; and I got to tell my story over and over, to everyone who would listen. Because (I repeat) it really was funny.

We all have embarrassing moments in life. As long as everything turns out all right in the end, there are two ways to react: you can agonize over the short-term embarrassment; or you can look at it as a great story to be repeated, for the rest of your life, when the occasion arises. Like now.

I recommend going for the laugh; it’s good for the soul.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/2/24