This leak has nothing to do with whistleblowers, spies, or high-ranking officials who use unsecured telecom connections to discuss top-secret military plans. Today’s news is about a literal leak . . . a leak of water . . . into Donald Trump’s big beautiful Alligator Alcatraz.

It is a well-known fact that it rains a lot in Florida, especially in the summertime when the heat and humidity are already in the danger zone and the afternoon thunderclouds come rolling in like clockwork every day. And yesterday — opening day at the new ICE detention center in the swampland known as the Everglades — was no exception.

By all accounts, it wasn’t a big rain . . . maybe 1/4 inch in total. But reports are that it came down hard for a while, and the tents that are supposed to be constructed to withstand a Category 2 hurricane failed their first test miserably. According to local news reporter Jason Delgado of Spectrum News 13, the water seeped into the tent, onto electrical cables, and around flagpoles. In his video, the rain could be heard clearly hitting the ceiling of the tent, which appeared to rattle as it was struck by the raindrops. [Josh Fiallo, Daily Beast, July 2, 2025.]

The Florida Division of Emergency Management reported that it has taken steps to fix the problem. Spokeswoman Stephanie Hartman said, “Overnight, the vendors went back and tightened any seams at the base of the structure that allowed water intrusion during the heavy storm, which was minimal.” [Id.]

Fine. But that was just a typical summer rain, not a major tropical storm. Hurricane season, which runs through November, is predicted to be an active one this year, and Category 2 resistance is not all that comforting when so many of the storms that hit Florida are Category 3 or more.

Not to mention those wet electrical cables in close proximity to the metal cages . . . excuse me . . . sleeping areas.

From the sound of things as they stand now, this facility wouldn’t pass inspection as an animal shelter, much less a habitat for humans; though in Trump’s estimation, it’s perfect for all of those sub-human “most vicious people on the planet” who will be housed there pending forced deportation to some third-world country.

And anyway, to borrow the words of that other great humanitarian, Senator Mitch McConnell, when asked about the thousands of people in Kentucky who are about to lose their Medicaid coverage . . .

“They’ll get over it.”

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/3/25

Before someone posted this on Facebook last month, I was unaware that it existed; and I’m fairly certain that I am not alone in having overlooked it until now.

The “Tear Drop” is a memorial to the September 11, 2001, terror attack on the twin towers of New York’s World Trade Center. Situated in Bayonne, New Jersey, on the opposite side of the Statue of Liberty from lower Manhattan, it never received the publicity of the memorial that now stands on the site of the original towers in New York City. But it should have.

Standing 100 feet tall, it is exquisite in its simplicity and artistry. The cracked facade represents a silhouette of the broken towers; the huge, graceful teardrop is self-explanatory. I have not had the privilege of seeing it in person; but merely looking at the photograph evokes the same sort of emotional response as, say, the wall of names at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C. It is a tribute to thousands of people who should not have died as they did.

But what is most significant about the Tear Drop Memorial is its origin. It was not put there by the people of New Jersey, or New York, or by any American individual or entity. It was, in fact, a gift from the people of Russia, presented in 2006 in remembrance of all those who perished on 9-11.

And it stands as a tribute to the ability of people to come together in times of tragedy. As the world recoiled at the realization that the United States — often thought of as indestructible — had become the object of such a horrific act of terror, expressions of condolence and offers of assistance poured in from nearly every corner of the world.

Even Russia.

And for that — despite the political differences between our two governments — we Americans should express our appreciation.

I, for one, do.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/2/25

Let’s face it: some kids are simply incorrigible.

And as we lace up the gloves for round . . . oh, hell, I’ve lost count of how many rounds they’ve already gone. It probably doesn’t matter, really, as it seems there will be no clear winner in this fight. Because Donald Trump — ostensibly the world’s most powerful man — and Elon Musk — literally the world’s richest man — are proving themselves, in terms of character at least, to be a couple of big-time losers.

Donald Trump started this round with his ”One Big Beautiful Bill” — in reality, a nightmare for the future of the U.S. economy and the welfare of its people. As it proceeded through the late-night intrigues being played out in the U.S. Senate (during which about $1 trillion was somehow added to the bottom line of the national deficit), it became more apparent to Elon Musk that some of the provisions of that bill were going to have a hugely adverse effect on his business interests. And so he voiced his criticisms, enlarging upon those of the Democratic members of Congress, and even going so far as to contemplate the formation of a third major political party.

Yesterday, Musk promised that lawmakers who vote for the bill “will lose their primary next year if it is the last thing I do on this Earth.” [Ben Werschkul, Finance.yahoo.com, July 1, 2025.]

And as the guy who spent at least $288 million on campaign donations during the 2024 campaign, and can afford to up the ante as far as necessary, he may well be in a position to deliver on that promise . . . presumably before he leaves Earth to take up residence on Mars.

Of course, in Trump world, no challenge ever goes unanswered. Responding to Musk’s objection to the bill’s proposed elimination of EV subsidies — which would have a devastating impact on his Tesla business — Trump said:

“Elon can lose a lot of more than that,” and called DOGE — the Department of Government Efficiency that Trump himself had created — “a monster that might have to go back and eat Elon.” [Id.]

Finally, when a reporter asked Trump whether he would consider deporting Musk — a native of South Africa — he said simply, “We’ll have to take a look.” [Id.]

*. *. *

Yes, boys will be boys. But this is not a schoolyard argument over a game of kickball. These are serious issues, being bandied about by two individuals in positions of nearly unlimited power, whose actions can potentially have an effect on millions of lives.

In bringing Elon Musk to Washington and placing him in the position of DOGE’s chief executioner, Donald Trump, like Frankenstein, created a monster. The question now is whether — like Mary Shelley’s fictional character — that monster, in its inability to fit into its intended role, will turn on its creator.

The mythical Greek Titan called Prometheus . . . Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein . . . today’s Donald Trump . . . each the victim of his own folly.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/2/25

This is one of those times.

Last week, I commented on the current deportation measures being taken by the Trump administration, and specifically focused on the following:

“Additionally, Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem anounced this week that the administration will use funds from the gutted Federal Emergency Management Administration [FEMA] to spend on an ‘alligator Alcatraz’ detention center on a remote Everglades airfield.” [William Vaillancourt, Daily Beast, June 26, 2025.]

That one paragraph opened my mind to a lot of questions, one of which — written half in jest, but apparently originating from some deep, dark instinct — was:

“ . . . what are we talking about: solid structures, or some sort of ‘tent city’?”

I particularly noted the location — an airfield in the middle of Florida’s Everglades swampland — and the notorious heat and humidity of the summer season in that part of the country.

As I said, my mention of a “tent city” was an offhand thought . . . not one that I actually considered a serious likelihood. After all, who could be so cruel . . . ?

But today, I found out that, indeed, someone could . . . because that is exactly what is being created in Florida. And Donald Trump has personally toured his newest big beautiful brainchild and given it his gold-plated stamp of approval.

While not the sort of “tent city” — known as “Resurrection City” — that was created on the National Mall in Washington, D.C. in 1968 as part of the Poor People’s Campaign initiated by Martin Luther King, Jr., it is nonetheless reminiscent of the Nazi prisoner-of-war camps of World War II . . . just newer and shinier (for now).

“Alligator Alcatraz,” as it has come to be known, is intended to house 3,000 migrants, whom Trump described as the most “menacing migrants, some of the most vicious people on the planet.” [Bernd Debusmann, Jr. and Ana Faguy, BBC News, July 1, 2025.]

While visiting a medical facility and one air-conditioned housing tent containing cage-like compartments enclosed by chain-link fence, Trump commented:

“We’re surrounded by miles of treacherous swampland and the only way out is, really, deportation,” adding that he “wouldn’t want to run through the Everglades for long” and that anyone attempting to do so would be met by “a lot of cops in the form of alligators.” [Id.]

He forgot to mention the crocodiles, pythons, and a carnivorous subspecies of cougar known as the Florida panther.

The facility will cost an estimated $450 million a year to operate, and it is not the only one being planned. Another is slated to be opened near Jacksonville, Florida, and Trump has indicated that the administration is already working with the governments of several Republican-run states, including Louisiana, to find other “suitable” locations. I assume the Louisiana bayous would be considered suitable for his purposes.

I wonder if he’s also considering Death Valley in the Mojave Desert . . . although California is a blue (Democrat) state.

Environmentalists in Florida have expressed serious concerns about the impact of Alligator Alcatraz on their efforts to restore parts of the Everglades, and a number of endangered species of animals in the region. But none of that seems to faze Trump in his hysterical frenzy to rid the country of immigrants — only a very small percentage of whom can truthfully be considered “the most vicious people on the planet.”

And when — or if — Trump at last fulfills his erotic dream of deporting the last immigrant, what will become of these very expensive camps? Will they be left to rot, further damaging the surrounding environment? Or does he have some other, more nefarious purpose in mind for them?

Whatever the answer, the first outpost in his proposed chain of prison camps is already a reality. Until now, I hadn’t realized that having our very own series of stalags (Nazi POW camps) was part of the dream of “making America great again.”

Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/1/25

On July 1, 1947, an article entitled “The Sources of Soviet Conduct” was published in the July edition of Foreign Affairs. Its author was identified only as “Mr. X” . . . in reality, his name was George F. Kennan.

Kennan, an historian and diplomat, had been serving as the U.S. charge d’affaires in post-war Moscow in February 1946, when he wrote what became famously known as his “long telegram” to the Department of State. That telegram, defining his analysis of the Russian government’s expansionist goals, later became the basis of the published article. The “Mr. X” nom de plume was used to avoid any inference that his opinion might constitute official U.S. government policy.

The Soviet Union had been our ally in World War II; without their involvement, that conflagration might have dragged on indefinitely, and ended quite differently. But once Hitler was defeated, Josef Stalin reverted to type, and a new battle began: the battle of the West against Soviet communism . . . memorably inspiring Winston Churchill’s famous “iron curtain” speech on March 5, 1946.

Churchill and Kennan were obviously in sync in their analyses of Stalin’s aims. What Kennan wrote to the State Department in February of that year — and later published in Foreign Affairs the following year — is notable for its prescience, and deserves our attention today.

Kennan explained that the Soviet leaders were determined to spread their communist doctrine throughout the world, but were also extremely patient and pragmatic in pursuing their goals. He said that, in the “face of superior force,” the Russians would retreat and wait for a more propitious moment. But the West should not be lulled into complacency, as Soviet foreign policy “is a fluid stream which moves constantly, wherever it is permitted to move, toward a given goal.” [“This Day in History,” History.com, July 1, 2025.]

He advised the following in regard to U.S. foreign policy:

“The main element of any United States policy toward the Soviet Union must be that of a long-term, patient but firm and vigilant containment of Russian expansive tendencies.” [Id.]

Just as Churchill’s “iron curtain” found its way into the lexicon of the Cold War, so did Kennan’s “containment.” President Harry S. Truman agreed, and in the years that followed, the policy of containment became a principal focus of the U.S. and allied governments, leading to the establishment of NATO in 1949.

*. *. *

Those were years when the world was blessed with a generation of true statesmen . . . knowledgeable, dedicated people who recalled the lessons of history, understood the delicate balancing act of diplomacy, and genuinely believed in the superiority of a democratic form of government. They were the men and women who formed U.S. and European policy, propelling the Western allies forward through the second half of the 20th century to a prosperity never before known or dreamt of.

They were not oligarchs . . . not self-anointed Neros . . . not would-be emperors ruling over an impoverished, enslaved populace while themselves reveling in lives of corruption and debauchery.

The lessons of 1946 are as pertinent today as they were then. But where are the statesmen qualified to understand and deal with Vladimir Putin as Truman and Churchill dealt with Josef Stalin?

I believe they’re out there: the historians, the scholars, the political scientists, the educators. But perhaps they’re simply too smart to be lured into the abhorrent world of politics. If so, then we are truly doomed to become the victims of our own inaction.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/1/25

The memories I have of my one visit to Hungary, in the fall of 1990, are all positive: the architectural wonders of Budapest, the boat trip along the beautiful Duna (Danube) River to the artists’ village of Szentendre, the lights on the Lanchid (Chain Bridge) that were turned off precisely at midnight each night, a private tour of the magnificent Parliament building, the outstanding cuisine, the beautiful and friendly people, and so much more, all combined to make the week a magical one.

We — a small group from our Washington law firm — were there as co-sponsors of a conference on doing business in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union. Less than a year earlier — on November 9, 1989 — the Berlin Wall had been breached, and one by one, the satellite nations of the Soviet Bloc were finding their way toward independence and democracy. We were there to help.

The spirit of the Hungarian people seemed to permeate the very air. Their 1956 uprising had been quashed by the Soviet forces; but this time was different. This time they would remain free.

And so they have, for 35 years. But since the emergence of Viktor Orban on the political scene, things have begun to change. Head of the Russia-friendly, right-wing Fidesz Party since 2003, and Prime Minister of Hungary since 2010, he has instituted an authoritarian rule that is disturbingly reminiscent of the “bad old days.”

One of his recent laws prohibits the “exposure of young people to non-heterosexual lifestyles” . . . a euphemistic way of placing a jackbooted foot on the neck of the LGBTQ community of Hungary. Despite popular protests, as well as condemnation from the EU and human rights groups, he forbade a march scheduled for June 28th.

But the people came anyway. Budapest’s Mayor, Gergely Karacsony — an opponent of Orban — declared it a municipal event, thus exempting it from the requirement for police approval. The organizer of the Pride parade, Viktoria Radvanyi, estimated the crowd size at 180,000 to 200,000 people, despite a record-setting heat wave. To avoid confrontations with an anticipated counter-demonstration by right-wing groups, the parade route was changed, and the march was on. [RFE/RL, June 28, 2025.]

Radvanyi said, “We’re not just standing up for ourselves … If this law isn’t overturned, Eastern Europe could face a wave of similar measures.” [Id.]

And one of the marchers told RFE/RL, “We need to stay together. In Europe, we see fascism … The Orban ban is not legal.” [Id.]

Peter Magyar is a leading oppositionist whose popularity makes him a major threat to Orban in the 2026 parliamentary elections. He wrote of the event on social media:

“I call on our police officers to protect all Hungarian citizens.

“The goal of the failed leadership is to turn Hungarians against Hungarians, to create fear and divide us.

“I ask everyone not to give in to any provocation. If anyone is injured or hurt in Budapest today, Viktor Orban alone will be responsible.“ [Id.]

According to Orban, participants in the march would be subject to “legal consequences” — most likely a fine of up to $580 — while organizers could be imprisoned for a year. It was also suggested that authorities might use facial recognition technology to identify the individuals.

But Mayor Karacsony said that there would be no reprisals. He insisted that the job of the police “is a serious one: to ensure the safety of Hungarian and European citizens attending the event” . . . to which the Hungarian Justice Minister, Bence Tuzso, responded with a threat of a one-year prison term for Karacsony’s part in organizing the event.

And so it goes in Hungary. As in much of the world today, threats of a resurgence of authoritarianism — even fascism — are on the rise. But the spirit that I saw in 1990 Hungary lives on.

And we might do well to take a lesson from their experience.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/1/25

On June 30, 2020, the world was in the throes of a pandemic — a virus known as COVID — that would forever alter the lives of millions of people.

And on that same day, I was in the middle of a move that would irreversibly reshape the remainder of my life. That was the day the last of my worldly belongings — what had not already been sold, donated, or trashed — were loaded into a moving truck and a rented van and driven from my apartment in a Virginia suburb of Washington, D.C., to a house I had never seen 578 miles away in the southern state of Georgia.

It was the day I finally admitted to myself that I was getting old.

Did I say “getting”??!!! Hell, I was old. Just three years shy of the age at which both my mother and my older sister had died, I was counting up the encroaching disabilities that seemed to pop up out of nowhere, and counting down the days to my inevitable departure from this earthly realm.

I had been forced into retirement three years sooner than intended. My retirement fund wouldn’t last forever. Most of my friends had predeceased me, so my social life was . . . to put it kindly . . . limited. So when my son suggested that I come to live with him and his family, it felt as though I had been rescued from an uncertain, but certainly unappetizing, fate.

I won’t go into the lurid details of the preparations for the move; suffice it to say, it was horrible. But once the apartment had been emptied, my son (who had driven up from Georgia to fetch me and my stuff) and I spent the night at a nearby Hilton, where there was no food service — actually, no service of any kind — due to COVID restrictions. In fact, there were no other visible signs of life, other than one clerk at the front desk. A nearby grocery store was open, and our dinner consisted of pre-made salads and sandwiches, some of which we carefully conserved for the next morning’s breakfast. And then it was time to hit the road.

The drive down was long — somewhere between eight and nine hours — but smooth, due to COVID’s having induced people to stay home more and travel less. However, the ride from the I-95 exit to the town in which I would actually be living seemed endless. I had no idea we would be so far out in the middle of nowhere.

And hey! Wait a minute! Was that a cotton field??!!!

It was. And it was followed by a lot of Spanish moss hanging from all sorts of oak trees; a small town straight out of “Deliverance,” with a City Hall that looked more like a doll house, and a Dollar Store around every bend in the road; a slew of churches of every known Christian denomination; and more cotton fields and Spanish moss.

Finally — like Brigadoon springing magically from the mists of the Scottish highlands — there appeared a neighborhood of lovely, big houses. And we were home.

As I was welcomed into my new abode by my daughter-in-law, teenaged step-granddaughter, an extremely friendly dog named Dixie, and a cat who . . . well, who still ignores me five years later . . . my first thought was, “Oh well, it will probably only be for about three years, and then I’ll be dead.”

Not that there was actually anything wrong. The house was beautiful, and my family are terrific people. It just wasn’t home, despite their assurances; and I knew it never would be. Because I’m a city girl.

Of course I miss my friends . . . the ones who are left. I miss my daughter being just an hour and a half away, and my cousins a mere ten minutes up the road. But I also miss the things that a lot of people find most annoying about cities.

It’s too quiet here. I lie awake at night, listening for the sounds of traffic — honking horns, squealing brakes, drivers shouting obscenities at one another — that aren’t there.

I miss the fire engines screaming past on their way from the nearby volunteer fire station to someone’s home up the street, and the police cars giving chase to the perpetrator of the latest area crime.

I even miss the noisy neighbors in my big, impersonal apartment building . . . people from every part of the world, speaking in a cacophony of unintelligible languages. And the enticing smell of their dinners wafting through the halls.

I long for the accessibility of everything: the small shopping centers within walking distance, with their supermarkets, pharmacies, banks, book stores, boutiques, and restaurants of every ethnicity . . .

. . . my old, familiar doctors, dentist, optician, hairdresser . . .

. . . the theaters — Kennedy Center, National, Signature, Wolf Trap . . .

. . . huge shopping malls, with the crowds of frantic people racing from store to store, or to the food court, or the multiplex movie theater redolent of popcorn . . .

. . . the many museums of the Smithsonian, the National Art Gallery, the Holocaust Museum, the National Zoo . . .

. . . the beauty of Washington itself, with its eternal reminders of our noble history: the Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials, the Washington Monument, the U.S. Capitol, the White House . . .

. . . and on and on and on.

I’m already two years past my “sell by” date, and I’m still here. My days are mostly quiet, while everyone else is at work or school. The people I’ve met are lovely folks, gracious and kind; but they’re not my old friends . . . we have no history together. And as a Jewish, Yankee, liberal-leaning Democrat, conversation is limited to the mundane.

Oh . . . did I mention that I hate the climate?

But enough grumbling. Considering the state of much of the world today, I’m doing all right. As long as my words don’t fail me, the internet continues to work, and the wine holds out, I’ll be here . . . communicating in the way I know best, and calculating the number of days by which I have already exceeded the life spans of my mother and sister.

Happy anniversary to me.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
6/30/25

Anyone who follows the daily news could have come to the same conclusion that I did, less than 24 hours ago, when I wrote (again) that Vladimir Putin no more wants peace in Ukraine than he would want a hot poker shoved up his . . . well, you know.

After proclaiming that he was ready for another negotiation, and that he would soon be cutting Russia’s military budget, he launched the biggest air strike on Ukraine since the beginning of the war more than three years ago.

Casualties and damage were reported from at least six regions across the country, including Lviv and Ivano-Frankivsk in the west, Mykolayiv in the south, Zaporizhzhya in the southeast, and Poltava in central Ukraine.

President Volodymyr Zelensky posted on social media:

“Almost all night long, air raid alerts sounded across Ukraine — 477 drones were in our skies, most of them Russian-Iranian Shaheds, along with 60 missiles of various types. A residential building in Smila was also hit, and a child was injured.” [RFE/RL, June 29, 2025.]

Zelensky accused Russia of “targeting everything that sustains life,” and reiterated his thanks and pleas to the West for continuing support:

“Ukraine needs to strengthen its air defense — the thing that best protects lives. These are American systems, which we are ready to buy. We count on leadership, political will, and the support of the United States, Europe, and all our partners.” [Id.]

The massive attack prompted Poland and allied countries to scramble aircraft to protect Polish airspace.

But Putin says he wants peace.

*. *. *

Meanwhile, in the Dnipropetrovsk region — close to the Russian-occupied areas of Donetsk, Luhansk and Zaporizhzhia — families who had already been displaced once are being forced to flee again as Russian forces push closer.

Six-year-old Damir’s family left Pokrovsk a year ago, seeking shelter in Dnipropetrovsk. Now his grandmother says, “I don’t even know if my apartment is still intact. I know that the ones nearby are completely burned out. The neighborhood where my children lived has been razed to the ground.” [Oleksiy Prodayvoda and Mykyta Peretiatko, RFE/RL’s Current Time, June 30, 2025.]

As Damir begins to cry, his grandfather tries to console him: “Why are you crying? Your mom is going with you, your sisters are going, your brother is going … You’ll keep them all on their toes over there.” [Id.]

It doesn’t appear to work.

Damir’s teenage sister Amelia says, “The war is getting closer and closer. You can already hear gunfire and explosions. We want to be far away from all that.” [Id.]

So the women and children are being evacuated. But grandfather Mykola is staying. “I feel sorry for my grandkids and children, not for myself. I’ll just grab my pitchfork and guard this place,” he jokes. [Id.]

But Putin says he wants peace.

And he expects the world to believe him.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
6/30/25

Isn’t that how all fairy tales begin? Even the Russian-language version of “The Wizard of Oz” — which I read as a study exercise many years ago — began that way. (In case you’re wondering, it’s titled “Volshebnik Izumrudnovo Goroda”: “The Magician of the Emerald City.”)

In fact, Russia is noted for its wealth of magical fairy tales. My favorite happens to be “The Firebird.” But not all Russian fairy tales are ancient; new ones are being written every day. And the modern ones are every bit as unbelievable and diabolical as those from olden times.

The principal difference between the old and the new is that, instead of the fictitious sweet-talking, child-eating witch known as Baba Yaga, we have the very real warlock named Vladimir Putin (“Dyed Vlad”?).** And he weaves his magic spells with words meant to deceive his listeners, lulling them into a sense of security, hope, and — above all — absolute loyalty to the master storyteller.

(Hmm . . . sound familiar?)

** NOTE: The Russian word “Baba” means “grandmother”; “Dyed” (rhymes with “red”), as you might expect, is “grandfather.”

Anyway, this week’s installment of “Tales From the Kremlin” involves the usual hero — Putin himself — and his Special Military Operation in Ukraine. It’s a twisted story, and is being spun in a series of statements from various sources, so it gets a bit confusing at times. But that’s nothing new.

> To begin with, the Moscow Times reports on June 27th that “Russia and Ukraine [are] nowhere close on peace terms,” their respective demands for peace terms being still “absolutely contradictory.” [AFP, June 27, 2025.]

> On the same day — after the NATO summit meeting had produced an agreement among the member nations to incrementally increase their military spending to 5% of GDP — Putin tells a press conference in Minsk, Belarus, that that is none of Russia’s business, and says:

“But now here is the most important thing. We are planning to reduce defence [sic] spending. For us, next year and the year after, over the next three-year period, we are planning for this.” Acknowledging that nothing has yet been finalized by the Ministries of Defense, Finance and Economy, he adds, “but overall, everyone is thinking in this direction. And Europe is thinking about how to increase its spending, on the contrary. So who is preparing for some kind of aggressive actions? Us or them?” [Gleb Bryanski and Vladimir Soldatkin, Reuters, June 27, 2025.]

> The next day — after Donald Trump repeats his demand that Putin end the war — Putin says Russia is ready to resume peace talks with Ukraine. [Sky News Australia, June 28, 2025.]

*. *. *

So now everyone is supposed to begin jumping up and down, clapping their hands and yelling “Hooray!” and “Whoopee!” while preparing for yet another wasted trip to Istanbul . . . all while Putin takes the high road and claims the role of peacemaker?

We’re not supposed to see the modern-day Baba Yaga in all of this?

I hope to heaven we’re smart enough not to buy into Dyed Vlad’s “happily ever after.” But I’m not so sure we are.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
6/29/25

Until 2023, Finland chose to remain militarily non-aligned. But following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022, the neutral nation — which shares an 830-mile border with Russia — made the decision to join NATO.

And considering Moscow’s reported military build-up at various locations along its border with Finland, as shown by recent satellite images, that was a wise move. The Finnish authorities are unlikely to forget the Kremlin’s protestations that their 2022 military presence at the Ukrainian border was merely a routine exercise . . . one that is now in its fourth devastating year of all-out war. Nor can they ignore Moscow’s threats of repercussions when Finland joined NATO.

According to military expert Emil Kastehelmi of Finland-based Black Bird Group, which analyzes Russia’s forces near NATO’s eastern borders:

“We have now noticed some new organisational [sic] changes, such as new divisions which are beginning to appear near Finland’s borders. Russia continues to build, prepare and train in the vicinity of Finland’s and NATO’s eastern border.” [Anna Korkman, AFP, June 26, 2025.]

Last month, the Finnish Defense Forces said that “Russia is building more infrastructure to be able to bring in more troops after the war [in Ukraine] is over,” and that Helsinki was “closely monitoring and assessing Russia’s activities and intentions” together with its allies. [Id.]

Finland closed its border with Russia in December of 2023 until further notice, following the arrival of about 1,000 migrants without visas . . . a move that Helsinki attributed to Russia, but which Moscow denied. Now Finland is building a 200-km. (125-mile) border fence to prevent Russia from further “instrumentalising migrants” across the border. [Id.]

While hoping for the best, and trying not to panic at the prospect of a future Russian invasion, the people of Finland are understandably unnerved and are preparing for the worst . . . just in case.

*. *. *

And across the Gulf of Finland in Estonia — another NATO member bordering on Russia, which is already host to a rotating base for NATO jets tasked with protecting Baltic airspace — Defense Minister Hanno Pevkur has stated that his country is ready to accept nuclear-capable jets, if necessary.

“If some of them, regardless of their country of origin, have a dual-use capability to carry nuclear weapons it doesn’t affect our position on hosting F-35s in any way,” he told the Postimees news outlet on Thursday. [Andrew Osborn and Mark Trevelyan, Reuters, June 27, 2025.]

While most of the world recognizes this as a defensive strategy, Moscow, needless to say, does not. And never one to disappoint, our old friend Dmitry Peskov, the Kremlin’s amiable spokesman, had this to say:

“Of course it would be an immediate danger.”

Calling Minister Pevkur’s statement “one of many ‘absurd thoughts’ voiced by politicians in the Baltic region,” he added:

“We have practically no relations with the Baltic republics because it is very difficult to make them worse.” [Id.]

My goodness, Dima, I do believe you made a Freudian slip there: You referred to Estonia as a “Baltic republic.” That is indeed what it was called when it was — unwillingly, I might remind you — one of the 15 republics of the Soviet Union. But it is now, and has been since December 1991, a free and independent nation . . . as are the other former Baltic republics of Latvia and Lithuania. They no longer belong to Russia; they are not your “republics” any more.

But methinks you just implied that you and your boss wish it were otherwise.

“Oops!”

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
6/29/25