Those funny Russians — they just can’t resist a good propaganda opportunity (“prop op”?). And Pavel Durov has become too good an opportunity to pass up.

You may recall that Durov is the billionaire CEO of messaging app Telegram, and is presently under investigation by the French government for alleged criminal complicity for not preventing users of his platform from conducting illicit transactions, including drug trafficking, fraud, child sex abuse, and even terrorism.

Russia’s interest in Durov stems from the fact that he was born and raised in Russia, where he proved to be a computer whiz at an early age. He eventually developed the highly successful Russian version of Facebook, which he called VKontakte (“In Contact”), or VK. But when the Russian government began demanding that he give them access to some of his clients’ confidential information, he refused, and ended up leaving Russia for France.

Not one to rest on his laurels, Durov — having obtained French and UAE citizenship — then developed Telegram, widely used for messaging throughout the world — ironically including by the Russian government.

And now — having previously forced him to leave his native land — Russia has latched on to Durov’s latest troubles as a bit of manna from Heaven: a chance to turn things around and blame the whole mess on the West.

Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov addressed the subject in a recent speech to students at Moscow’s prestigious MGIMO (Moscow State Institute of International Relations), parroting the Kremlin position that the French investigation is part of “a larger political ploy by the West to exert power over Russia,” and saying:

“Pavel Durov was too free. He didn’t listen to Western advice on moderating his brainchild.” [Lucy Papachristou, Reuters, September 2, 2024.]

But wait a second: If “the West” advised Durov to “moderate” Telegram, and he simply didn’t listen, how then is it a conspiracy on our (the West’s) part against Russia?

Enter — yet again — the effervescent Kremlin spokesman, Dmitry Peskov, ready as always to inject his own special brand of humor into a decidedly un-funny situation:

“The main thing is that what is happening in France does not turn into political persecution. We know that the president of France has denied any connection (of the case) with politics, but on the other hand, certain accusations are being made.” [Id.]

All right, then!

So, as I understand you, Dima . . . France is the bad guy, Durov is the fall guy, and Russia is the good guy for defending the guy they originally drove out of their country.

I can’t wait to see whose fault it will be tomorrow. I’ll have to check my political barometer.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/4/24

National Wildlife Day. This is, of course, a very good thing — we must protect our precious animals. But let us not forget that today is also . . .

World Sexual Health Day. Can’t argue with that one either. We must protect our . . . well, anyway . . .

And since they turn up on the same day, I wonder what would happen if we decided to celebrate them together with one big party and . . .

Okay, back to reality now. There’s more going on tomorrow, besides the birthday of someone I must remember to send a greeting. September 5th is . . .

International Day of Charity. We shouldn’t do this on only one day of the year, or just at Christmastime, or before December 31st for the tax deduction. Whenever you can, just choose your favorite(s) and send whatever you can afford; or contribute your time to help someone. It’s a good thing.

National Cheese Pizza Day. I like mine with the standard pizza sauce and cheese, plus bell peppers, onions, and eggplant. Yes, eggplant. I only know of one place that makes those, and it’s about 500 miles away, so I just have to fantasize about them. But you do yours, your own way. And enjoy.

National Be Late For Something Day. Oh, that’s too easy. But if the person you’re supposed to be meeting is also planning to be late, then won’t you both be on time?

World Samosa Day. You don’t have to choose between this and the pizza. It’s just once a year — live it up, and have both. I won’t tell.

*. *. *

That’s it — two days wrapped up into one. Come to think of it, that makes life go twice as quickly, so I’d probably better stop doing that.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/4/24

Leaders and delegates from multiple African nations are descending upon Beijing for a three-day summit this week, drawn by China’s promises of “further practical cooperation” and Xi Jinping’s vision for a “community with a shared future.” [CNN’s Meanwhile In China, September 2, 2024.]

Hopefully, they will have a little free time to see something of Beijing besides the inside of a conference hall. And while they are doing the town, their host will be doing his thing: tying his African clients up in big, tight knots — financial ones, that is.

I’ve written in the past about China’s so-called Belt and Road Initiative,** by which — under the guise of infrastructure development — China has, over more than ten years, gradually increased loans to a number of already impoverished countries, many in Africa, until they have become crushingly burdensome for the borrowers. And now those loans are coming due. It is, of course, all part of this dynamic duo’s long-range plan to create a new world order . . . under their control.

** See 11/10/23: Putin and Xi: The Real World’s Romulus and Remus?

But with specific regard to Africa, Yun Sun, director of the China Program at Washington’s Stimson Center think tank, says:

“The Chinese approach to Africa in the past has been driven by hardware infrastructure projects, funded by Chinese loans. We know now that model is not going to be operational anymore, because now the debt sustainability issue has become such a big challenge for the continent. [Now] . . . the world is watching — what is going to happen to China’s relationship with Africa next?” [Simone McCarthy, CNN’s Meanwhile in China, September 2, 2024.]

It is hoped that this week’s summit in Beijing will provide some answers to that question.

In the meantime, however, it appears that Chinese President Xi Jinping has a pleasant surprise for his African visitors: Satellite TV.

“Yessir, step right up and get your 50-inch screen here. If it doesn’t fit into your hut, we’ll lend you the money to enlarge the hut.”

*. *. *

Actually, you’re probably thinking — as I did at first — that Xi’s plan is to provide satellite TV capability to Africa’s largest cities. But not so; they already have TV. Instead, nearly a decade ago, he promised the heads of state attending the Forum on China-Africa Cooperation in Johannesburg “that China would provide over 10,000 remote villages in 23 African countries with digital TV access.” [Id.] And, in Xi’s favor, more than 9,600 of those villages have now received satellite infrastructure. So . . . bring on the soap operas, the game shows, and the other mind-bending entertainment — rural Africa is ready to plug in those TV sets.

Seriously, we’re talking about impoverished people living in some of the world’s most impoverished nations. Never mind that they often go to bed hungry; that their children have no shoes; that education is sparse, if it exists at all; that alternating droughts and floods have killed their crops. They need satellite TV.

Those villagers who were part of China’s project ostensibly received everything for free — satellite dish, battery, installation, and a subscription to the programming. But the subscription was not for a lifetime; it ran out after a few months, and they had to pay to renew it. Some could not afford it, and gave up their access. The party was over.

In one household in the village of Olasiti, about three hours’ drive from the capital of Nairobi, Kenya, the family of Nicholas Nguku was thrilled to be able to watch the Paris Olympics. They clearly live in a more comfortable home, not a hut; and their TV is a reasonable size. The satellite service is inexpensive, by U.S. standards . . . but we’re not talking about U.S. standards.

And by the way, the programming content is provided by a Chinese company. So those soap operas and game shows are from China, dubbed or subtitled in English, and by some accounts are frequently old and dated.

But the villagers needed satellite TV.

Don’t get me wrong — it isn’t that I don’t think they deserve a little fun in their lives. They absolutely do; their lives are difficult. But is TV really the answer? If offered a choice between that and a steady supply of food and clean water, vaccines and medicines . . . which do you think they would choose?

*. *. *

Think about this: If you lived in the Soviet Union in the last century, you were given a free vacation every summer, and for that you were supposed to forget about the lines at the stores for inferior, often non-existent goods. Forget about the squalor of your communal apartment. Forget about being forced to live and work wherever you were told to. Forget about the absence of hope for a better future for your children. You had that free vacation to look forward to, and for that you were expected to be eternally grateful to Papa Joe Stalin.

Sound familiar?

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/4/24

I did promise to catch up. I just wasn’t sure I could do it this quickly. So let’s get right to it.

As always, there were a number of interesting events on this date throughout the centuries: Pope Benedict XV was named to the papacy in 1914; President Wilson embarked on a tour to promote the League of Nations in 1919; and back in 1777, the Stars and Stripes — the official flag of the United States — was flown in battle for the very first time.

But there were two standout events that deserve to be commemorated, both involving wars: one happily ending, and one just beginning:

1783: Treaty of Paris signed. It had taken more than seven years from the signing of America’s Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776, but at last a treaty was signed by the United States, Great Britain, Spain and France declaring the independence of the American colonies.

The boundaries of the new nation were established from Florida in the south to the Great Lakes in the north, and from the Atlantic coast west to the Mississippi River.

There remained a great many battles to be fought and hardships to be overcome before this great nation would stretch all the way to the Pacific Ocean to the west. But this was a formidable start.

*. *. *

1939: The life-changing day World War Two began. On September 30, 1938, the Munich Agreement had been signed among Great Britain, France, Italy and Germany — a peace treaty that would prevent further armed hostilities following Germany’s annexing of the Sudetenland in western Czechoslovakia. British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain returned from Munich to London a hero, declaring “peace for our time.”

Less than a year later, on September 3, 1939, Chamberlain was forced to announce to the British people that Germany had violated the treaty by invading Poland, and that Britain had no choice but to declare war on Germany. In part, he told his people:

“It is evil things that we shall be fighting against — brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution — and against them I am certain that right will prevail.”

Within minutes of his announcement, air-raid sirens went off across London. The peace had ended.

Five hours later, France also declared war on Germany.

And at 18:00 hours on that same day, King George VI — overcoming his own great personal difficulties** — broadcast his message to the people of the British Commonwealth, telling them to . . .

“. . . stand calm, firm and united in this time of trial. The task will be hard, there may be dark days ahead and war can no longer be confined to the battlefield,, but . . . with God’s help, we shall prevail.”

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Brendochka
9/3/24

** For an outstanding (if somewhat dramatized) depiction of the life of King George VI — an accidental monarch, and the father of the late Queen Elizabeth II — I recommend the 2010 film, The King’s Speech, starring Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush, and Helena Bonham Carter. It’s one of my all-time favorites.

In tones eerily reminiscent of the 1950s and ‘60s, we were treated this past weekend to new threats from the Russian government by way of its Deputy Foreign Minister, Sergei Ryabkov:

“The work is at an advanced stage, and there is a clear intent to make corrections,” adding that the decision is “connected with the escalation course of our Western adversaries.” [Mark Trevelyan, Reuters, September 1, 2024.]

The “escalation” to which he referred was, of course, the continued resolve of the West to aid Ukraine in its defense against Russia’s 2-1/2-year war of attrition, euphemistically referred to (but only by Russia) as a “special military operation.”

And “the work” that is supposedly at an “advanced stage” is a change in Russia’s doctrine on the “use [of] nuclear weapons in response to a nuclear attack by an enemy or a conventional attack that threatens the existence of the state.” [Id.]

Russian President Vladimir Putin has said from the very start — when his troops invaded Ukraine in February of 2022 — that anyone who tried to interfere would suffer “consequences that you have never faced in your history.” [Id.]

And the threats have continued ever since — from Putin, from Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov, from Security Council Deputy Chairman Dmitry Medvedev, from Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov, from certified nutcase Aleksandr Dugin, and from every suck-up in Putin’s entourage.

But now they say they’re lowering the bar, though they didn’t say how low they were prepared to go. In an interview published on Sunday, Dmitry Peskov said that the West was “going too far,” and that Russia would do everything to protect its interests.

Nor did anyone offer a timeline for the completion of the new nuclear doctrine. Ryabkov said only that, “The time for completing this work is a rather difficult question, given that we are talking about the most important aspects of ensuring our national security.” [Id.]

Well, that’s helpful. In the meantime, we’d better be careful not to hiccup, lest it be mistaken for an act of aggression.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/3/24

Was he really a spy? Or the subject of a scientific study? Or just a sweet Beluga whale who got lost one day and decided he liked his new home better than the old one? We may never know, because he has now passed away . . . unless his autopsy (or is it a necropsy?) reveals something unexpected.

He was a 2,700-pound, 14-foot-long Beluga whale, who showed up along the northern coast of Norway in April of 2019, and has been hanging around ever since. When first spotted, he became the immediate subject of intense speculation because of the harness he was wearing, to which were attached a device that appeared to be a mount for a small camera, and a buckle reading “Equipment St. Petersburg.” [Mithil Aggarwal and Caroline Radnofsky, NBC News, September 2, 2024.]

“A Russian spy whale!” was the first reaction of the local folks, who nevertheless fell in love with him and named him Hvaldimir —a combination of “hval” (the Norwegian word for whale) and “dimir” from Vladimir Putin’s first name. He seemed to love being around people, and was quickly adopted — spy or no spy — by the community.

And tragically, this week he was found dead by marine biologist Sebastian Strand, who had been tracking Hvaldimir’s activities. According to Strand:

“He meant more than I can put into words, to me, to the team, and to thousands of people whose lives he had profoundly impacted. We were responding to a sighting, but did not know anything happened to him.” [Id.]

Because there was no obvious cause of death, and he had last been spotted alive on Friday, a post-mortem will be performed. And then, I presume, Hvaldimir will be sent to his final resting place with all due ceremony and lots of love.

Was he indeed a Russian spy whale — sent, perhaps, to photograph Norway’s naval bases, but lost his camera in the rough seas? Did he find the fish tastier in Norway, or the people friendlier, and then decide to defect? No one really seemed to care.

Because who couldn’t love that sweet face?

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/3/24

*[Source: history.com]

Confession: I do most of my writing a day before posting. So I’m really always a day behind — or is it ahead? — which usually doesn’t matter, except for “this day” in history. So, in the interest of full disclosure, I am presenting — hopefully for one day only — Yesterday in History. I’ll try to catch up soon.

And for September 2, 2024, we start way back in:

1666: Great Fire of London begins. The royal baker for King Charles II — one Thomas Farrinor — did the unthinkable, and failed to properly extinguish his bakery oven before turning in for the night. Around midnight, some errant sparks struck the firewood lying next to the oven, and before long, the entire house was on fire.

Because most of London’s homes in those days were built of oak timber, and many of the poorer structures were covered in highly flammable tar for insulation; and because the houses in neighborhoods were built close together; the fire spread like . . .well, like wildfire. And firefighting in those times consisted of “bucket brigades,” using hand pumps and pails of water passed hand to hand.

Thomas Farrinor and his family managed to escape the flames, but a bakery assistant was the first of 16 victims of the ensuing conflagration. By the time it was over — some four days later — 13,000 houses, nearly 90 churches, scores of public buildings, and many historic landmarks were gone. An estimated 100,000 people were left homeless. One result of the disaster was a complete restructuring of the city’s building codes.

And it all happened without the help of Mrs. O’Leary’s cow.

*. *. *

1789: Congress founds U.S. Treasury. The United States started out in debt — from the borrowings that had funded the Revolutionary War — so when the Constitution was ratified in 1789, the government established a permanent Treasury Department in hopes of controlling the national debt.

That seems to have worked well.

*. *. *

1944: Navy aviator George H.W. Bush and his squadron attacked. World War II; torpedo bomber pilot in Pacific theater; attacked by Japanese anti-aircraft guns; bailed out over ocean; floated on raft; rescued by submarine crew; lived to become President.

Now, that’s how you teach history!

*. *. *

1945: Japan surrenders, bringing an end to WWII. Just a few days short of four months after the end of the war in Europe, it was finally over in the Pacific.

It might have had something to do with those two big bombs . . .

*. *. *

1945: Vietnam declares its independence from France. Just hours after Japan’s surrender ending World War II, Ho Chi Minh proclaimed the independence of Vietnam from France, declaring: “All men are born equal: the Creator has given us inviolable rights, life, liberty, and happiness!” Strange words from the man who ended up ruling Communist North Vietnam.

Considering the history of that country over the next half century, they might have been better off sticking with France. But you can’t un-ring a bell.

*. *. *

1969: Vietnamese president and communist icon Ho Chi Minh dies. And on the 24th anniversary of his big day.

At least he was spared the next six years of that war.

*. *. *

1969: First U.S. ATM opens for business.

Well, at least something good happened that day. What would we do without our cash machines?

Too bad Ho Chi Minh never got to use one.

*. *. *

2013: Diana Nyad, 64, makes record swim from Cuba to Florida. This was a lady who had been a champion swimmer in high school; later swam the 28 miles around Manhattan Island in a little less than than eight hours; and set a record by swimming 102 miles from North Bimini, Bahamas, to Juno Beach, Florida, in 27.5 hours.

She then retired from endurance swimming and switched to the much less exhausting fields of journalism and motivational speaking.

Why, at the age of 64, she decided to make another attempt at the Cuba-to-Florida route (she had tried and failed four times previously), I can’t even imagine. And she did it — all 110 miles of it — in 53 hours, without the use of a shark cage for protection.

She must have been in great shape. She must also have been nuts.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/3/24

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