I’ve spent two years of what’s left of my life writing a book. It doesn’t matter what it’s about; it consists of just over 300 pages of non-fiction, still in need of some tweaking. I think it’s pretty good; and it has spent the last year sitting, in its bright pink three-ring binder, in the knee well of my desk. On the floor. Going nowhere.

That is because a year ago I hit the biggest roadblock ever created by mankind (personkind?). And no, it was not writer’s block. It was much, much worse.

Not knowing where to go with my book, I took the obvious next step: I bought a couple of books on how to submit one’s manuscript to the gods of publishing, and learned that you need to send them something called a “Book Proposal.” This turned out to be akin to preparing a Ph.D. thesis, or a 21st Century version of the Ten Commandments — the content and format are carved in stone, and thou shalt not veer from the path of righteousness unless thou hast a hankering to suffer wrath the likes of which thou hast never imagined.

Oy vey!

I must confess that I did a good bit of kvetching at this point. But eventually, when I had finally stopped screaming into my pillow, I set to work producing what I believed to be a reasonable facsimile of what the publishers are looking for: ten sections titled Background, The Story, Purpose, The Theme, Approach & Style, About Me, Format & Delivery Date, A Market For This Book, The Competition, and Chapter Summaries (all 26 of them, plus the Introduction, Prologue, Epilogue, and an Appendix), all topped off — like a big red maraschino cherry — with a sample chapter.

See what I mean? If “The Story” and “The Theme” seem redundant, you’re right. “Delivery Date” — who knows? And as to “A Market For This Book” . . . well, I thought that was the publisher’s job. Apparently not.

Anyway, I struggled through it and turned out a nice presentation. And then . . .

Then I started screaming again, because I realized I had not the slightest idea of where to send my masterpiece. So it was back to Amazon for another book (one that someone else had succeeded in getting published), this one containing information on every single publisher and literary agent in the United States — and there are thousands of them. Really . . . thousands.

And they all have different requirements.

Some publishers want just your proposal; others also want the entire draft of the book, which eliminates them completely because no one is getting their hands on my intellectual property without first signing a non-disclosure agreement (NDA). (Yes, I have a legal background.) Some want a print copy, others want a CD or flash drive, others want electronic transmission . . . and some want two or more of the above.

There are those who won’t even open your submission if you’re not represented by a literary agent (those people who take 15% off the top, but do have the contacts you don’t have with the publishers). And the agents all have their own very specific requirements.

Plus, there’s the big question of which of these thousands of publishers and literary agents are actually reliable. Other than the big names — the ones who would automatically turn their noses up at anyone who isn’t already a billionaire or a celebrity — there’s no way of knowing.

Someone did suggest self-publishing, so I bought another book and looked into that. It turns out to be a whole lot of work, requiring some talents (like design) that I don’t possess. And it’s very expensive, if you’re going to do it well — unfortunately beyond my means, after paying for all those how-to-get-published books. And besides, one of the incentives behind writing a book is eventually earning a bit of money as a reward for all of that time and effort — not spending thousands of additional dollars. So . . . back to square one.

And here is where I stopped screaming into my pillow . . . and began banging my head against the wall. Because if you’re a first-time author, and you’re not already famous (or infamous) for something else, you haven’t got a prayer of being noticed among the thousands of writers out there also banging their heads against their respective walls.

And that’s the whole point of this diatribe: If you’re nobody, you’re likely to remain nobody, because nobody wants to read what another nobody has written. Or that seems to be the common wisdom in the rarefied world of publishing. Unless, of course, you’re J.K. Rowling, sitting in a coffee shop, scribbling notes on paper napkins about a couple of kids named Harry Potter and Hermione and an owl named Hedwig in a place called Hogwarts.

So who am I? Well, unless you’re one of my few remaining friends who haven’t already left this vale of tears for (hopefully) a better afterlife, then I’m nobody you’re likely to have heard of, ever, for any reason. But I can tell you who I’m not.

– I’m not, for instance, a member of a royal family — ready, willing and able to peddle the family secrets, along with pots of homemade jam and my eternal soul, in exchange for enough money to feed a small town for a year.

– And I’m not (thank God!) related in any way, personally or professionally, to a smarmy ex-president — also ready, willing and able, etc., etc. . . .

– Nor am I the completely no-talent child of a famous actor, musician, dancer, or sports star — prepared to glide through life on Mommy or Daddy’s name.

– I’m not dating any of those famous people indicated above.

– I don’t belong to a dynastic political family, like that Irish nut from Massachusetts who had a couple of much smarter uncles and father.

– And I’m not under indictment; not being chased by the FBI, the CIA, the KGB, the Mossad, or any other scary people; or possessed of the state secrets of any country. Not as far as I know.

As I said, I’m nobody special, except to a few people who are stuck being my relatives, and a few others I’m lucky enough to call friends. But I once had a fascinating international adventure, and it’s still relevant to what’s happening in our world today; so I’ve written about it. And if there’s anyone out there who can tell me what to do with it . . .

Ah, forget it. I’ll figure it out.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/2/24

Then:

“ . . . Russian troops don’t conduct any strikes against civilian infrastructure and residential areas.” – Dmitry Peskov, Kremlin Spokesman, March 1, 2022.

*. *. *

And now:

Kyiv, Ukraine – September 2, 2024

*. *. *

Hours before the opening of the first day of school for Ukraine’s schoolchildren, a barrage of missiles zeroed in on the country’s capital city, Kyiv, hitting a water treatment plant, a metro station, two schools and a university. The Ukrainian military destroyed 22 cruise and air ballistic missiles aimed at the city. [Hafsa Khalil and Zhanna Bezpiatchuk, BBC News, September 2, 2024.]

But “Russian troops don’t conduct any strikes against civilian infrastructure and residential areas.”

Your words are hollow, Dmitry. And no matter how often you repeat them, they will always be a lie.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/2/24

The internet is, in many ways, a wonderful thing. It has brought us immediate access to more information than anyone could ever possibly need. It allows us to function in countless ways without ever having to leave the shelter of our homes. And it keeps us in close contact with loved ones (and a few not-so-loved ones).

But it also brings us a lot of crap, commonly known as SPAM (which I define as “Some People Are Merciless”).

We all have our morning routines. Mine includes — right after brushing teeth and grabbing a bottle of Boost for breakfast — clearing the emails that have accumulated overnight. Today there were, by actual count, 99 of them.

When I finished deleting the junk, there were six remaining.

Most of the junk mail, of course, is the electronic equivalent of what we also find in our mailboxes — companies trying to sell us stuff. Occasionally there’s something we might want to check out and actually purchase, but for the most part . . . DELETE.

There are also the companies you’ve already bought something from, trying to sell you more, or telling you that you’ve “left something in your cart.” DELETE.

And stay away from anything that starts out “Congratulations,” or otherwise promises you something for nothing. There’s no such thing as an internet freebie. DELETE.

As for political messages, that’s your choice. But I promise you that once you click on one of them — no matter which party they represent — you will never, ever stop hearing from them, regardless of how many times you try to “unsubscribe.” I find it easier to simply DELETE — over and over and over again.

I do subscribe to some news outlets. Those are good, because they keep me current with the rest of the world, and provide subject matter for many of my blog articles. KEEP.

And so on and so on. You probably have pretty much the same issues. But there are some that sneak in there, and you have to be really careful not to open them . . . unless, of course, you’re actually interested in:

1 Day Fat Removal. I admit to being about ten pounds above my desired weight. In fact, I’ve been stuck at this weight for a number of years now. But so what? I’m not obese; I’m comfortable in my clothes; my doctor is not unhappy with me; and I’m not about to try anything that promises to effortlessly suck the excess avoirdupois from my body within 24 hours. Do I look stupid? (Don’t answer that.) DELETE.

What Full-Mouth Dental Implants Should Cost In Your Area. I don’t want to know. I’d sooner be dropped, fully conscious, into a pit of starving vipers. DELETE.

Manhood-booster. These (obviously) are enticing notices about a product that is guaranteed to enhance a body part that I, as a proud female, do not possess. It’s just another snake oil salesman trying to convince men who may have inferiority complexes that . . . well, you know. DELETE.

Exotic Ukrainian Women. Didn’t I already say I’m female? And even if the purveyors of these professed beauties don’t know (or care about) my gender assignment or preferences, what is “Exotic” supposed to imply? Overtly sexy? Or circus rejects? And once they get into the country — for which I assume I would be expected to pay — am I supposed to adopt them? Does ICE know about this? DELETE WITH ALL POSSIBLE SPEED.

Ami-Latinas. This sounds like a Spanish-speaking version of the Ukrainian scam. Same answer, amigos. DELETE.

Clear Away Herpes. Having successfully avoided the last two, I am happy to say I have no need for this one. Thanks anyway. DELETE.

And on it goes. Ah, yes, the internet is a marvelous toy. Just don’t let your children near it.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/2/24

Sorry to be a day late with this one; I somehow overlooked my daily email from history.com amid the other 98 that were on my screen in the morning. But there was a lot to commemorate on September 1st — and one that is particularly meaningful to me — so I think it’s worth doing retroactively.

Let’s begin with the good things:

1972: Bobby Fischer becomes the first American to win the World Chess Championship. In what was billed as the Cold War’s “Match of the Century,” Fischer defeated Russian chess master Boris Spassky at Reykjavik, Iceland. Unfortunately, Fischer spiraled downward into some very strange behavior over the years, disappearing from the chess scene for some time. He finally reemerged to break a few laws in the U.S. and Japan, causing him to emigrate to Iceland, where he died in 2008 at age 64. A sad end for a chess prodigy who, for a short time, had it all.

Did I say this was the good news? Sorry.

1985: Wreck of the Titanic found. After 73 years, the remains of the RMS Titanic was finally found, answering so many long-buried questions, and allowing James Cameron, more than a decade later, to make his hugely successful movie.

And now that theme song is stuck in my head.

1850: P.T. Barnum brings European opera star Jenny Lind to New York. She was then considered the greatest opera singer in the world, and on this date in 1850, she arrived in New York City for what was to become a triumphant national tour, setting box office records and sparking an American opera craze throughout the 1850s.

Why a celebrated opera star such as Lind would have agreed to work with a circus huckster like Barnum is a mystery to me. But apparently, America was glad she did.

1807: Aaron Burr acquitted of treason. Well, good news for him, at least. Not so sure about the rest of the country.

1964: First Japanese player makes MLB debut. Pitcher Masanori Murakami became the first Japanese man to play in the U.S. major leagues when he pitched a scoreless inning for the San Francisco Giants — though his team lost the game to the New York Mets anyway.

So did that mean World War II was finally over? About time!

1966: French president Charles de Gaulle urges the United States to get out of Vietnam.

Fat lot of good that did! Nice try, though.

*. *. *

But there was a whole lot of really bad history made on this date as well. Shall we start with:

1864: Confederate forces abandon Atlanta. If you’re a southerner, then this was definitely bad news, because then Sherman lit a match and burned down much of the city. But if you’re a northerner, the end of that Civil War might justify the means.

But does it ever . . . really?

1939: Germany invades Poland. And thus started six years of hell for the people of Europe, and much of the rest of the world. They called it World War II.

There is no justification for this one.

1983: Korean Airlines flight shot down by Soviet Union. This is the one that is personal, and still makes my heart ache to think about it.

I was in the office when the call came from the Dean of Columbia University Law School, telling me that John Oldham had been on that Korean Air Flight 007 to Seoul, en route to China for his summer of study and teaching. “No! Not the one the Soviets shot down!”

Tragically, yes.

John was an amazing young man — smart, hard-working, decent, with a bright future. Just having graduated from law school, he was scheduled to join our firm; but first he had been offered an internship in Beijing for a year of study, with a side job of teaching English. He had been scheduled to leave a day earlier, but had changed his reservations in order to accommodate a friend who needed help with something. That was John.

And now he was gone.

It fell to me to tell everyone — but first of all, Walter. That was my immediate boss, Walter Surrey — a prominent international attorney with clients doing business throughout the world, including China and the Soviet Union. But he was at a dental appointment that morning, so I had to tell him by phone, before he might hear it somewhere else.

When I called him at the dentist’s office and broke the news, he said nothing for a moment. Then: “Call Tregub. I want him in my office at noon. No excuses.” And he hung up.

Valeriy Tregub was our commercial contact in the Soviet Embassy. When I reached him by phone, there were none of the usual niceties. I told him bluntly, “One of our people was on that plane. Walter wants to see you here at noon.” And he didn’t argue.

When Tregub arrived, he looked as though he’d already been through hell; and his meeting with Walter didn’t help. I learned later from Walter that he had told Tregub what he thought his government should do — accept responsibility for a terrible, accidental tragedy, and offer restitution — but of course, that never happened.

And to this day, there has been no justice for the 269 passengers and crew members on that flight . . . John Oldham included. He would have been around 65 now, and probably looking forward to retirement from a highly successful career, and possibly marriage and fatherhood. But it never happened.

And 40 years later, it still hurts.

2004: Chechen separatists storm Russian school. It was an Islamic terrorist attack on a school in Beslan, Russia, that started on September 1st and lasted three days. More than 1,100 people were taken hostage, including 777 school children. When it was over, 334 people were dead, 186 of them children. It was the deadliest school shooting in history.

And it was all about a tiny piece of the globe known as Chechnya — a predominantly Muslim region that wanted its independence from Russia. So the Chechen warlord Shamil Basayev sent his murdering horde to Beslan in the North Ossetia region of the North Caucasus, having somehow decided that slaughtering innocent children would convince the Kremlin to let him have his way.

The Russians reacted as they usually do: they stormed the school to save what hostages they could. And when the smoke cleared . . . well, I’ve already given you the numbers. But what was really left in Beslan was an unspeakable agony that will not go away.

And for 20 years, Vladimir Putin — allegedly the president of the people — never set foot in Beslan. Finally, on August 20th of this year, he deigned to visit the City of Angels memorial cemetery there, laying flowers, kneeling, and crossing himself in a show of sympathy.

Too little, too late.

* For some strange reason, someone has scratched above the entry, in English, “NYPD,” and in Russian, “We’re with you!!!” That’s nice to know.

That’s quite enough for one day. If tomorrow isn’t cheerier, let’s simply ignore it.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/2/24

It’s an old saying, but — like most aphorisms — it’s still around because there is truth in it.

The “friend” in this case is our old standby, Russia . . . and, by extension, Vladimir Putin himself. And the recipient of Putin’s new concern for a man he once forced out of Russia for refusing to play nicely? None other than the world’s latest international sex symbol: Pavel Durov.

Durov, the CEO of controversial messaging app Telegram, was — while still living in his native Russia — the originator of the Facebook-like media outlet VKontakte (VK). When the Russian government “requested” that Durov hand over confidential information on some of his subscribers, he refused, saying that it would be a violation of their right to privacy.

Well, you can imagine how that went down with Putin and his cohorts. So Durov left Russia, obtained both French and UAE citizenships, and reinvented himself as creator, developer and CEO of Telegram. At 39, he is now a billionaire, living primarily in Dubai and traveling just about everywhere (presumably excluding Russia).

And — in one of life’s incredible ironies — he now finds himself in trouble in France, for the very same reason he once had to flee Russia. In connection with investigations into various criminal activities, the French government has asked Durov for confidential information concerning Telegram’s clients. And again — on the same grounds — Durov said, basically, “not in this lifetime.” Which got him arrested.

*. *. *

Now, we all know what long memories and short tempers Russian leaders are historically known for, Vladimir Putin being no exception. Under the circumstances, this would seem to be a perfect opportunity for him to try to get his claws into Durov once again in order to obtain what he laughingly calls “justice.” But that hasn’t happened.

Instead, Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov (he’s back!) said on Thursday that the case against Durov should “not turn into political persecution.” Speaking to the press, he added:

“We know that the president of France [Emmanuel Macron] has denied any connection with politics, but on the other hand, certain accusations are being made. We will see what happens next.” [Alexander Marrow and Mark Trevelyan, Reuters, August 29, 2024.]

And on another track:

Despite an absence of evidence, as well as denials by the Paris prosecutor’s office, some lawmakers in Moscow have alleged that the entire case against Durov has been orchestrated by Washington. [Id.] Leonid Slutsky, leader of a pro-Kremlin party in Parliament, wrote (ironically, on Telegram): “Pavel Durov remains a hostage of the ‘dictatorship of democracy’ of the collective West.” [Id.]

And there you have it: Putin’s Perfect Propaganda Ploy.

Once again, it’s all America’s doing. Despite our insistence on upholding the rights guaranteed us in our Constitution — free speech among the most valued of them — he says it is more important to us to undermine Russia at every opportunity. Therefore, we have somehow engineered the arrest and prosecution of Durov — and by the way, a big shout-out to France for their stunning cooperation in that little effort — in order to . . . what?

Why, presumably to be able to mine information from Telegram on Russia’s use of that very app, of course — particularly in connection with military communications.

(Although admittedly we (the West) would love to be privy to those details, certainly there are easier and more secure ways of obtaining it. Isn’t that what the intelligence folks are for?)

Ksenia Ermoshina, a researcher at Citizen Lab at the University of Toronto and at the Center for Internet and Society at French institute CNRS, has said:

“Telegram has become a tool for Russian defence to communicate internally. If Durov is accused by the French government and he is in the hands of French justice, they are afraid that he might give access to his servers and, because there is no internal encryption by default in Telegram, this will enable potential access to sensitive information from the Russian army.” [Id.]

Well, no wonder Putin wants to be Durov’s new BFF! He’s shaking in his little Russian boots, and it’s obviously in his best interest to help Durov out of his legal quagmire.

As usual, Shakespeare said it better than anyone else ever could (in The Tempest):

“Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.”

We often paraphrase that as “Politics makes strange bedfellows.” Either way, it’s too often true. It certainly is in this case.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/1/24

I have so many lists: my personal To-Do list, which never seems to shrink; my Bucket List of places I’ve always wanted to visit and now never will; my Grocery List, which is totally uninteresting; my List of News Items that may or may not become subjects of some of my blog articles.

Unfortunately, there’s also a list of countries that — for reasons I will never fully understand — seem unable to break ties with Vladimir Putin’s Russia. I call that one my Sh*t List. And now I’ve had to add Venezuela to it.

What they have done recently to earn this dubious honor is to send two Colombian citizens to an uncertain fate in the hands of Russia’s FSB (Federal Security Service, successor to the KGB) — two men who had broken no laws in Venezuela . . . or anywhere else, for that matter, except in the twisted mind of Vladimir Putin.

What those men did was simply spend nine months in Ukraine, where they are “suspected of fighting for the Ukrainian military.” [Tara John, Stefano Pozzebon, Mariya Knight and Maija-Liisa Ehlinger, CNN, August 31, 2024.]

The two men — Jose Aron Medina and Alexander Ante — were on their way home to Colombia in mid-July, when they seemingly vanished during a lay-over in Caracas, Venezuela. They reappeared a month and a half later, on August 30th, in a video released by the FSB, accusing them of “participating in hostilities on the side of Ukraine against the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation as mercenaries.” The FSB statement said the two men were carrying “documents confirming their illegal activities,” as well as clothing bearing the insignia of Ukraine’s Carpathian Sich battalion. [Id.]

And so they wound up here:

But how is that even possible??!!!

Remember: These men are citizens of Colombia. They had been in Ukraine. They were returning home to Colombia, and were detained in Venezuela, from where they were extradited to Russia. They are reportedly being held in the notorious high-security Lefortovo Prison while being “investigated for paid participation in an armed conflict, which in Russia carries a maximum sentence of up to 15 years behind bars.” [Eva Hartog, Politico, August 30, 2024.]

What the hell . . . ?

There are far too many unknowns here. First and foremost: Why did they opt to travel through Venezuela? Their route home took them from Warsaw, Poland, to Madrid, Spain, and then to Caracas. But there are direct flights from Spain to Colombia. Venezuela is not the friendliest of countries. Who made their travel plans for them, or advised them on the stop in Caracas?

And why were they even on Moscow’s radar? They’re just two of many foreigners who have joined in Ukraine’s defense. Are they all being tracked, possibly marked for kidnapping and prosecution? Or is there something “special” about Medina and Ante that we don’t know?

But the biggest question in my mind concerns fine points of international law about which I know next to nothing. Yes, Venezuela has an extradition treaty with Russia. But are they allowed to honor arrest warrants issued by a country (in this case, Russia) against citizens of a third country who have not broken a law in Venezuela? Is fighting for Ukraine a violation of any international law? Would Russia’s warrant be legally enforceable against a foreign citizen who has not even set foot in Russia? Or does Russia’s claim to “own” parts of Ukraine count as “Russian territory”? And so on, and so on . . .

This is just one more example of the length of Putin’s reach around the world: Asia, Eastern Europe, Africa, Latin America . . . there seems no end to it, with the possible exception of those non-aligned penguins in Antarctica.

Should we (the U.S. and our allies) now start snatching the members of the Wagner Group (newly renamed the Africa Corps) and other mercenaries fighting for Russia in Ukraine and extraditing them to some hidden place? There must be thousands of them. What makes Putin think it’s all right for him and not us . . . ?

Oh, yeah — it’s that “N” word again: Narcissism.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/1/24

American Chess Day. A noble game — the Game of Kings. A game of strategy, of concentration, of being able to think multiple moves ahead and to outthink your opponent. And far beyond my capabilities. On the other hand, give me a Scrabble board and my killer instincts come to life.

*. *. *

World Letter Writing Day. Good luck with that one. I remember the days of writing — in longhand — pages and pages of heartfelt sentiments, my deepest personal thoughts, and a whole lot of utter drivel. And always on beautiful stationery, boxes and boxes of stationery. Then carefully folded, placed in the matching envelope, sealed, addressed, and the postage stamp placed just so in the upper right corner. And when it was dropped into the mailbox the next morning, the wait began for a reply, watching for the postman’s arrival each day until at last . . . there it was!

That is now a thing of the past, except perhaps for the occasional birthday or condolence note, and then more often than not it’s a Hallmark card with a few words scribbled at the bottom. And the rest of the time, it’s an email or a text, written in some sort of code . . .

R U OK? IMHO. LMAO. TTFN. FU.

And that’s what’s called mail. Well, no . . . it isn’t. It’s a poor substitute, like shopping online instead of browsing through the stores; or reading an e-book instead of holding a leather-bound volume in your hands. Sometimes new is just new, and not necessarily better.

*. *. *

National Chicken Month starts today, and it is just what you think it is: a celebration of the noble bird as it is meant to be enjoyed: roasted, fried, baked, broiled, barbecued, fricasseed, cordon bleu-ed, turned into nuggets, strips, soup, etc., etc., etc.

My grandmother once fed three of us from one chicken for three days, a different recipe each time, and never tasting like leftovers. For a really stupid animal, it does provide a lot of pleasure.

*. *. *

And then there is . . .

Emma M. Nutt Day. Okay, go ahead and ask: “Who the hell is Emma M. Nutt?

Well, she was a telephone operator. But not just any telephone operator; she was the first female to hold that position when, on September 1, 1878, she began working for the Edwin Holmes Telephone Despatch [sic] Company in Boston, Massachusetts. The company had had bad luck with the young boys they had hired — behavioral problems, for the most part — and so they hired Emma and later some other women, including her sister.

Emma stayed on the job for somewhere between 33 and 37 years (the dates are uncertain). Since she died in 1915 at the age of 54 or 55, she spent most of her life at that switchboard.

It is said that she was paid a salary of $10 per month (!) for a 54-hour week. Her Wikipedia bio doesn’t give a cause of death, but I’m guessing it was either overwork or insanity — it was reported that she had memorized every number in the New England Telephone Company’s telephone directory.

And with that, we look forward to tomorrow, September 2nd — which this year is Labor Day.

Enjoy,

Brendochka
9/1/24

We’ve all reached that point, at one time or another, when we’re tired of the same old summer vacation spots: the cottage at the beach, the cabin in the mountains, the road trip, the Caribbean cruise. They’re all lovely, but sometimes we just need a change . . . an adventure.

So you start actually looking at those travel brochures you’ve been throwing away as soon as you pulled them out of the mailbox, and begin seriously contemplating . . . let’s see now . . . there’s a restaurant tour of Italy, a two-week African safari, or a visit to an Arctic underground hotel carved out of solid ice.

Actually, I’d love to do any one of those. But this week I found what I think is the one vacation spot that none of your friends will be able to outdo. Imagine their faces when you tell them you’ve booked a week in a yurt camp at Karakum, on the edge of Turkmenistan’s Flaming Gates of Hell.

“Where??!!!”

You heard me: the freakin’ . . . excuse me, flaming . . . Gates of Hell.

They’ll never believe you. And why should they? After all, who in their right mind would even consider . . . ?

Well, apparently quite a few people do. Because there are now three such yurt camps in the remote part of the Karakum Desert that is home to this oversized barbecue pit known as the Darvaza Gas Crater — a phenomenon created more than 50 years ago by a Soviet exploratory team that was drilling for natural gas when they set off a chain reaction resulting in a gigantic, fiery hole measuring about 230 feet wide and 100 feet deep. [Joe Yogerst, CNN, August 30, 2024.]

Leave it to the Russians . . . right? Go big, or go home.

Author Ged Gillmore wrote about it that “It’s a collapsed gas cave, which sounds about as interesting as an old gas oven. But there’s this eeriness about it, and I actually found it quite creepy.” [Ged Gillmore, Stans By Me: A Whirlwind Tour Through Central Asia, 2019.]

And it has become quite the tourist attraction. But you’d better hurry if you’re interested in visiting, because it may not be around much longer. The Turkmenistan government is considering the possibility of somehow sealing it, and even now repeat visitors say the flames are much smaller than they once were . . . one travel guide estimating that it’s only burning at around 40% of its 2009 level. [CNN, op.cit.]

So if you’re ready to book your stay, here’s one of the accommodations you might consider — if you enjoy sleeping on a pallet on the dirt floor. As I said, it is different.

And lest you think Turkmenistan is a one-attraction country, there are other things to see once you’ve had your fill of the gassy fumes. They also have a national holiday, sometime in April, in honor of their “wolf-crusher” dogs (bred and trained to guard sheep from predators such as wolves, and also to protect their people — presumably from other people).

Now, I’m a dog lover, but that description makes me hesitate. Still, look at that sweet face.

And if you’re looking for some time in the city, there’s always the capital, Ashgabat. Judging from this picture (featuring the larger-than-life golden statue of the beloved Wolf-Crusher itself), it looks like something out of an Ayn Rand novel. But though appearing quite modern, don’t expect it to be anything like New York, or Paris, or Tokyo. Despite having been independent since the 1991 breakup of the Soviet Union, Turkmenistan’s government is still a repressive totalitarian regime.

What’s that you say? A little bit scary?

Well, I did warn you that it would be an adventure, didn’t I?

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/1/24

It’s been a quiet news week insofar as the American hostages in Russia are concerned. The good news is that there have been no names to add to the eight still locked away in Putin’s prisons; the not-so-good news is that they are still there: the same eight whose names and faces have become so sadly familiar.

And so we remember them once again, and encourage them to stay strong and never give up hope — hope that negotiations for their release are moving forward behind the scenes.

In no particular order, they are:

U.S. Army Staff Sergeant Gordon Black, who was stationed in South Korea when he fell into a Russian “honey trap.” He was on his way back to his home in Texas, on two weeks’ leave, when he was lured to Vladivostok by the Russian girlfriend he had met in Korea. He was arrested in May of 2024 on charges of alleged larceny and murder threat, and sentenced the following month to a prison term of three years and nine months.

*. *. *

Ksenia Karelina, dual U.S.-Russian citizen, recently convicted of espionage and sentenced to 12 years in prison for contributing $51.80 to an American charity providing aid to Ukraine.

*. *. *

Marc Fogel, a schoolteacher from Pennsylvania, was arrested in August of 2021 for possession of 0.6 ounce of legally-prescribed (in the U.S.) medical marijuana. In June of 2022 he was sentenced to 14 years in prison.

*. *. *

Robert Romanov Woodland, a dual US-Russian citizen, was teaching English in Russia when he was arrested in January of 2024 for allegedly attempting to sell drugs. In July, he was sentenced to 12-1/2 years in a maximum security prison.

*. *. *

Robert Gilman, already in jail in Russia serving a 4-1/2-year sentence (later reduced to 3-1/2 years on appeal) for kicking a police officer in 2022, found himself facing added charges in 2023 of punching prison staff in the head, and later also attacking a criminal investigator and another prison guard.

*. *. *

David Barnes, an American citizen and resident of Texas, was arrested in January of 2022 while visiting his children, who had been taken to Russia from Texas by his Russian wife. He was charged and sentenced in the fall of that year to 21 years in prison for child abuse (allegedly occurring while in Texas), on his wife’s accusation. I really wish I knew more of this story!

*. *. *

Eugene Spector, a dual US-Russian citizen already serving a four-year sentence handed down in June of 2021 on a bribery conviction, received additional charges of suspicion of espionage in August of 2023. No other details have been found, as the evidence is labelled “classified.”

*. *. *

Michael Travis Leake, a rock musician and former paratrooper, was sentenced in July of this year to 13 years in prison on drug charges — specifically, suspicion of selling mephedrone, and organizing a drug trafficking business “involving young people.”

*. *. *

Are any of these prisoners actually guilty of the charges leveled against them? I don’t know. But I do know that the recent timing of a number of the arrests, and the speed with which they were brought to trial, is a clear indication of Russia’s intentional roundup of American citizens to be used as (what I call) Putin’s Pawns.

What they are, quite simply, are HOSTAGES. And they will not — MUST not — be forgotten. Let’s shorten this list to zero.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/1/24

That would be my very favorite Kremlin spokesman, Dmitry Peskov, whose name has been missing from the news for the past week or so. But it cropped up again yesterday, briefly, when he said that his boss — that would be Vladimir Putin, of course — isn’t concerned about being arrested when he travels to Mongolia next week, despite the outstanding warrant issued against him by the International Criminal Court (ICC) in March.

Welcome back, Dima. Your “voice” in the daily news out of Moscow has been sorely missed.

But about that trip to Ulaanbaatar . . .

I have to assume that you’re aware of the legal ramifications of Mongolia’s participation in the ICC’s Rome Statute, requiring that country to comply with the Court’s warrant. Yet you have said, in your inimitable casual manner:

“There are no worries, we have a great dialogue with our friends from Mongolia.” [The Moscow Times, August 30, 2024.]

And when specifically asked if the arrest warrant had been discussed with Mongolia’s authorities ahead of the scheduled visit, you replied that:

“ . . . all aspects of the visit were carefully prepared.” [Id.]

Oh, you are the master of dissembling. Let’s just hope, for the sake of your job security, that your “friends” in Mongolia — who have thus far maintained a neutral position on Putin’s “special military operation” in Ukraine — know what they’re doing.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
8/31/24