Having a wonderful time reminiscing about all my past travel (and other) adventures. Hope you’ll share them with me in my blog, “All Roads Led to Russia.”
This week’s message of moral support to Putin’s political hostages is offered in the shadow of yet another Russia-Ukraine ceasefire negotiation, optimistically scheduled for tomorrow, June 2nd, in Istanbul.
But neither the urgency of the effort to end Russia’s brutal invasion of Ukraine, nor any of the other ongoing crises capturing each day’s headlines, should detract from the continuing plight of those individuals being unjustly held by the Putin regime.
So once again we remember:
The People of Ukraine The Azov 12 David Barnes Ales Bialiatski (in Belarus) Gordon Black Andrei Chapiuk (in Belarus) Antonina Favorskaya Konstantin Gabov Robert Gilman Stephen James Hubbard Sergey Karelin Ihar Karney (in Belarus) on Vadim Kobzev Darya Kozyreva Artyom Kriger Uladzimir Labkovich (in Belarus) Michael Travis Leake Aleksei Liptser Ihar Losik (in Belarus) Mikita Losik (in Belarus) Daniel Martindale Farid Mehralizada (in Azerbaijan) Nika Novak Marfa Rabkova (in Belarus) Igor Sergunin Dmitry Shatresov Robert Shonov Eugene Spector Valiantsin Stafanovic (in Belarus) Siarhei Tsikhanouski (in Belarus) Laurent Vinatier Robert Romanov Woodland Vladislav Yesypenko (in Crimea) Yuras Zyankovich (in Belarus)
. . . and any others I may have missed.
Know that you are not forgotten, and that efforts toward your homecoming continue.
> Three meetings in Russia — in February, March and April — between Vladimir Putin and U.S. envoy Steve Witkoff produced nothing.
> A face-to-face meeting scheduled for May 15-16 in Istanbul — suggested by Vladimir Putin himself, and believed to be between Putin and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky — devolved into a low-level delegation from Moscow showing up without their leader, and Zelensky withdrawing in the face of the intentional insult. It ended with the two leaderless delegations agreeing to a prisoner-of-war swap, but no progress toward a ceasefire or serious end-of-war negotiations.
> A one-on-one telephone call between Putin and Donald Trump on May 19th lasted two hours, and again, nothing came of it . . .
. . . except that Putin agreed to another meeting in Istanbul on Monday, June 2nd. And he offered to present a “memorandum” of proposed talking points for the meeting, setting forth Russia’s requirements for a settlement. Zelensky again demanded an immediate 30-day ceasefire pending further talks, but was once more rebuffed.
A proposed agenda has been submitted by Kyiv, but nothing has been forthcoming from Moscow . . . word from the Kremlin’s spokesman, Dmitry Peskov, being that Moscow’s conditions for a ceasefire would be discussed in Turkey, and not before.
Peskov and Putin: the Disinformation Twins
And now, just one day before the scheduled June 2nd meeting, as Russia’s forces continue to rain death and destruction on Ukraine, Putin keeps the world waiting to find out what his next delaying tactic will be.
Only this time, Zelensky is also threatening not to waste another trip to Turkiye in light of Putin’s continuing refusal to commit to a ceasefire, or even to submit his promised “memorandum” ahead of the meeting.
If this were an old radio soap opera, the announcer would be telling us to “stay tuned for tomorrow’s exciting episode of . . .”
Unfortunately, this is not a soap opera; it’s real life. But there is one similarity: that tingling feeling of suspense just before the show starts — wondering whether the villain of the drama has been plotting some new evil behind the scenes, only to spring, once again, on his hapless victim at the 11th hour . . . or, perhaps, whether this time the intended victim will finally have called the villain’s bluff.
So I guess we will have to stay tuned after all. We’ll be back with you tomorrow . . . same time, same station.
Twelve years ago, Edward Joseph Snowden — a computer security consultant working for Booz Allen Hamilton, which held a contract with the U.S. National Security Agency (NSA) — became disillusioned with programs with which he was involved, and raised his concerns within the company. But he was ignored, and decided to take matters into his own hands.
Taking medical leave from his job, he traveled to Hong Kong on May 20, 2013, where he leaked to journalists thousands of documents of highly classified NSA information concerning global surveillance programs involving both the United States and some European governments.
Edward Snowden
On June 21, 2013, charges against Snowden were entered by the U.S. Department of Justice, consisting of two counts of violating the Espionage Act of 1917 and theft of government property. The State Department revoked his passport, and two days later, Snowden flew from Hong Kong to Moscow.
Since his U.S. passport had been revoked, he was forced to spend more than a month in Moscow’s Sheremetyevo International Airport . . . officially stateless, and thus unable to return to the U.S., but restricted from leaving the airport terminal. (Yes, it does sound like the plot of a 2004 Tom Hanks movie.)
Sheremetyevo Terminal
Finally, Snowden was granted asylum by Vladimir Putin, who was undoubtedly delighted at the propaganda value of Snowden’s situation . . . not to mention the prospect of obtaining possibly valuable information from him in the future.
Over the years, he has continued through the process of obtaining temporary residency, then permanent residency, and finally — in September of 2022 — Russian citizenship and a Russian passport. And recent records show that he has been issued a Russian tax ID number. [Andrei Soshnikov, et al., RFE/RL, May 30, 2025.]
Order Granting Citizenships, Including Snowden (circled in yellow)
*. *. *
Snowden is said to be working currently for a Russian IT company, and living in the Moscow suburb of Lyubertsy . . . not the choicest of locations. [Id.] (I had occasion to visit there in 1992, where I met with the town’s then mayor and a group of educators, at a time when it was best known as the home of some of Russia’s most violent “mafia” gangs. Hopefully, it’s improved since then.)
Snowden has long justified his actions as an effort “to inform the public as to that which is done in their name and that which is done against them.” [Edward Snowden biography, Wikipedia.org.] And indeed, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit has ruled, in the case of United States v. Moalin, 973 F.3d 977 (9th Cir. 2020), that one of the mass surveillance programs exposed by Snowden was illegal and possibly unconstitutional.
Public opinion has, of course, been divided between those who consider Snowden a hero for having the courage of his convictions, and those for whom the illegality of his actions takes precedence. Whether he is Don Quixote, or a traitor to his country, is not for me to decide.
What strikes me is the irony of his situation. Exiled from the country he allegedly tried to save from what he considered to be illegal and immoral surveillance, he is now consigned to spend perhaps the rest of his life in the country best known for its repressive surveillance and tyrannical control of its citizens and visitors alike.
And if I were able to speak to Edward Snowden to ask him just one question concerning his decision of 12 years ago, it would be this:
I’m not sure how it found me, but I’ve spent the past 28 hours with something truly evil.
I don’t function well on just four hours of sleep and practically no food, so I’m putting the iPad back on the desk for a little while, and hoping to catch up on some much-needed Z-z-z-z-z. I should be vertical again by this afternoon. Meanwhile . . .
I’ve been away from Washington for five years now, and — as I’ve mentioned at least a few thousand times — I still miss it. It’s lovely and peaceful here in the country, but I’m a city girl, and I guess I’ll never change.
But lately, I find that I have fewer and fewer reasons to miss D.C. There are my old friends, of course, and my long-time doctors, dentist and hairdresser. I miss the familiar landmarks, buildings, perpendicular streets, and street signs on every corner. I still can’t tell one live oak tree from another, and there is no pattern to these country roads. Two miles from home, and I’m hopelessly lost. City streets are more logical.
And I have longed for the variety of activities that Washington offers: the theaters, museums, restaurants of every ethnicity, shops . . . you name it. Only now, I fear I would find that changed, and not for the better. I would not, for example, attend a Kennedy Center whose programming has been gutted by the anti-DEI forces of the current administration . . . and the loss of so many of the best performers who honorably refuse to appear there.
The Kennedy Center
Nor would I enjoy roaming the numerous buildings of the Smithsonian Institution, only to find history being rewritten or erased entirely.
I hate to think that my favorite ethnic restaurants may be gone, their owners, chefs and wait staff summarily deported to some third-world country not their own.
And yesterday I read that some hare-brained Republican congressman from Florida — oh, what the hell! let’s name him — Greg Steube has introduced a bill to rename the Washington, D.C., subway system, long known as the Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority (or WMATA), calling it instead the Washington Metropolitan Authority for Greater Access, or . . . drumroll please . . .
WMAGA.
And if that isn’t a sufficient suck-up to the emperor in the White House, he also wants to name the Metrorail system . . .
“The Trump Train.”
Oops, sorry . . . wrong fantasy!
But it’s not as though Steube hasn’t given this careful thought. Here is his rationalization:
“WMATA has received billions in federal assistance over the years and continues to face operational, safety, and fiscal challenges. In the spirit of DOGE, this bill demands accountability by conditioning federal funding on reforms that signal a cultural shift away from bureaucratic stagnation toward public-facing excellence and patriotism.” [Emily Brooks, The Hill, May 29, 2025.]
There is one word in that paragraph that worries me: patriotism. Because by “patriotism,” this administration really means — not love of one’s country — but all-encompassing, unquestioning, worshipful loyalty and obeisance to the exalted leader in the Oval Office. And that is to be a prerequisite for the privilege of being allowed to continue to exist.
By the way — in case you’re not already sufficiently impressed — Steube’s bill is only one of a number that have been introduced by Republicans taking advantage of Donald Trump’s name or brand. For example, Representative Addison McDowell of North Carolina proposes to name Washington Dulles International Airport after Trump (thereby erasing the memory of the late John Foster Dulles); and Representative Joe Wilson of South Carolina has introduced a bill to issue a $250-denomination currency featuring Trump’s portrait. [Id.]
Hey, wait a second . . . aren’t those honors usually reserved for dead people?
Oops!
At this point, I couldn’t help doing a little fantasizing of my own, and I have come up with a wonderful idea that would probably only add a few hundred million more dollars to Trump’s proposed budget increase of $3.8 trillion: How about a larger-than-life-size statue — gold-plated, of course — of himself in every traffic circle in Washington? Since there are about 36 major traffic circles, each containing its own little park, you wouldn’t be able to travel more than a few blocks without gazing upon his shiny countenance at least once.
If that isn’t worthy of Julius Caesar himself . . . well, I don’t know what is!
It’s the match of the century, and it shows no sign of ending in the foreseeable future. So let’s see if we can recap what’s happened thus far.
It began with presidential envoy Steve Witkoff being ambushed in St. Petersburg in April, when he walked — alone, and without so much as an interpreter of his own — into a meeting with Putin, three seasoned Russian politicians, and their interpreter.
The St. Petersburg Ambush
Then a presidential meeting was scheduled in Istanbul for May 15-16. Ukraine’s President, Volodymyr Zelensky, was ready; but Vladimir Putin was a no-show — despite Donald Trump’s stated willingness to join the discussion if Putin would do the same. In his place, Putin sent a lower-level delegation; Zelensky bowed out and met instead with Turkish President Erdogan; and once again . . . nothing happened.
Presidents Zelensky and Erdogan
But Putin magnanimously agreed to a one-on-one phone call with Trump on the following Monday, May 19th. This one actually did take place — Trump from the White House, Putin from somewhere along the Black Sea coast at the lovely resort of Sochi.
After two hours of discussing who-knows-what, all that was agreed was an exchange of prisoners between Russia and Ukraine . . . a good thing in and of itself, but hardly the stuff of peace negotiations. Because all the while, the deadly attacks from the Russian side have continued unabated, and peace is no closer than it was three years ago.
Among much name-calling, sanction-threatening, and a yet-unfulfilled promise from Putin to submit a memorandum of his demands for further discussion, the newly-installed Pope Leo XIV even offered the Vatican as the site for negotiations. Not surprisingly, Putin declined the offer, choosing instead to suggest another try at a meeting in Istanbul on June 2nd.
But will Putin be there?
Nope. According to Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov:
“Our delegation, led by Vladimir Medinsky, is ready to present a memorandum to the Ukrainian delegation and provide the necessary explanations during a second round of direct talks in Istanbul on Monday, June 2” . . . said memorandum to cover “all aspects of reliably overcoming the root causes of the crisis.” [RFE/RL, May 29, 2025.]
Medinsky, a former minister of culture, led Russia’s team at the May 16th meeting that proved to be such a waste of time and money.
Zelensky has already submitted Kyiv’s memorandum of talking points, and has demanded that Putin submit his memorandum in advance of the meeting . . . but to no avail.
And now Putin proposes simply to repeat the dog-and-pony show, again sending a mid-level delegation to set forth the same litany of outrageous, one-sided demands, thereby gaining more time to continue advancing his devastating war against Ukraine . . . and ultimately the rest of the former Soviet Bloc.
S.S.D.D.
Same Sh*t, Different Day
*. *. *
How long this game of Putin’s will continue depends entirely on how long the patience of the rest of the world’s leaders holds out. Europe is uniting in developing broader sanctions — as well as arming itself, and Ukraine, against further incursions. Even Donald Trump is showing signs of impatience, though he has yet to follow through on any of his threats.
June 2nd is only three days away. I guess we’ll just have to stay tuned.
On March 5, 1953, the brutal leader of the Soviet Union died after suffering a stroke at his dacha on the outskirts of Moscow. He was embalmed, and interred four days later in a state funeral that drew a crowd of mourners so large, an estimated 109 people were trampled to death in the ensuing crush. Originally placed in the Lenin Mausoleum, his body was later moved and to this day remains buried in the Kremlin Wall Necropolis adjoining Red Square. He is definitely dead.
Lying in StateStalin’s Grave Site
During a period of “de-Stalinization” following his death, most statues and other likenesses of the former dictator were removed.
But he refuses to remain dead . . . because there always seems to be a segment of the Russian population that insists on resurrecting him. And currently, that segment is led by Vladimir Putin.
*. *. *
Many cities throughout the world have excellent mass-transit systems. But the Moscow Metro is famous — not only for the depth of its stations, which served as air raid shelters during World War II — but for the opulence of some of those stations, which have been described as underground palaces.
Two of Moscow’s “Underground Palaces”
But recently, a new work of art — if it can indeed be called that — was installed in the central Taganskaya Station: a life-size statue of Stalin, titled “The Gratitude of the People to Leader-Commander,” surrounded by a bevy of his adoring subjects.
Tribute to a Monster, Taganskaya Metro Station, Moscow
It is said to be a gift to the people of Moscow from the city’s metro system to mark its 90th anniversary, and has been welcomed with joy by some passengers, as indicated by the red carnations placed at Stalin’s feet.
One woman said, “It’s excellent. History of art, culture, significance, beauty.” And a man added, “[It’s] the right decision. This is the history of our state.” [Ivor Bennett, Sky News, May 23, 2025.]
Others, of course, were less than thrilled. A lady named Svetlana opened up to a reporter: “What were they thinking?! How many died under his leadership? And suddenly he appears here, this bloodsucker. How is this possible?!” [Id.]
Another, a gentleman named Oleg, put it less emotionally: “We should remember and honour some of his deeds. But to put him like this is disrespectful. He did a lot of bad things for the Soviet people.” [Id.]
*. *. *
So why now, and why in such a central location?
Since Vladimir Putin’s ascension to the presidency, it seems that Stalin’s ghost has been cropping up in various parts of the country, on a smaller scale. This monstrosity, though, is the first of its size and prominence.
According to Yan Rachinsky, a human rights activist with the noted rights group Memorial:
“For the current government, the main thing is the state. The state is sacred, the state is above everything, the state is infallible. That is why criticism of Stalin is constantly decreasing. Putin’s old statement that one should be proud of history — that’s it. Everything that prevents us from being proud of history fades into the shadows.”[Id.]
I would add to that. In addition to the belief in the infallibility of the state, I see a return to the Soviet “cult of personality” — the unquestioned authority of, and messianic devotion to, the leader of the all-powerful state.
Once upon a time, a newly-certified Canadian teacher by the name of Laurence J. Peter began observing an astonishing level of incompetence, not only in the field of education, but in nearly all societal hierarchies. Over the years, he developed a theory regarding this phenomenon, and in 1974 wrote a book about it. He called it “The Peter Principle,” and it can be summed up as follows:
“In any hierarchy, an employee tends to rise to the level of his incompetency.”
Laurence J. Peter (1919-1990)
He cited the case of an automobile mechanic who was such an expert at his job that he was promoted to a supervisory position . . . at which he was a complete failure. He also wrote about a school principal who had been an excellent teacher, but as principal was a total washout. And I think we’ve all seen that outstanding office worker, or waitress, or physician’s assistant who moves up to a management slot . . . and turns out to have no management skills whatsoever.
“The Peter Principle” was highly successful when released in 1974. And now, a half century after its publication, Mr. Peter’s book has once again been validated by a group of individuals who, while successful in their original chosen fields, have finally reached a level of attainment that is clearly beyond that of their abilities.
Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you three of 2025’s poster children for the Peter Principle:
Sadly — or perhaps happily — Mr. Peter did not live to witness this latest manifestation of his theory. But I like to think that somewhere, wherever he may be, he is observing the circus taking place in today’s world and taking some satisfaction in knowing that he was right.
And from the point of view of those of us who are still around to witness it first-hand . . . isn’t it nice to finally have a name for it?
Those were the words of then President George W. Bush following his first meeting with Vladimir Putin in 2001. And I thought to myself:
“Are you fucking kidding me??!!!”
What Bush saw as he looked into Putin’s eyes was not a soul; it was a huge, bottomless, gaping maw where a soul should have been.
But at least Bush later realized his mistake, and admitted it. I wonder whether Donald Trump will ever experience the same sort of epiphany.
As the war of words continues between Trump and Putin over a ceasefire in Ukraine, I can’t help thinking back to the good old days when Ronald Reagan sat across a table from Mikhail Gorbachev and charmed his adversary by reciting, in Gorbachev’s native language, an old Russian saying: Doveryai no proveryai — “Trust, but verify.”
Ronald Reagan (with Secretary of State George Shultz), Mikhail Gorbachev (with Foreign Minister Eduard Shevardnadze), Geneva – 1991
What a far cry those diplomatic exchanges of yesteryear are from the sort of rhetoric being exchanged these days between Trump and Putin. While Russian forces continue to batter Ukraine, and Ukraine retaliates with drone attacks on Russian territory, Putin steadfastly maintains that a ceasefire can only be declared when certain of his requirements are met. And Trump’s response, once again, is a lot of hot air.
He called Putin “crazy” (but in all capital letters), and said he didn’t know what had happened to him . . . as though Putin’s behavior were something new and different. On Tuesday, Trump upped the volume a bit:
“What Vladimir Putin doesn’t realize is that if it weren’t for me, lots of really bad things would have already happened to Russia, and I mean REALLY BAD. He’s playing with fire!” [RFE/RL, May 27, 2025.]
Do you hear that, Vlad? REALLY BAD!
In an indication of just how badly Putin is shaking in his boots, Kremlin Spokesman Dmitry Peskov responded today:
“ . . . just like the United States, Russia has its own national interests, which are above all for us, and they are above all for our president.” [Id.]
And Putin’s foreign policy aide, Yuri Ushakov, added that Trump’s comments might be a sign that he is “not sufficiently informed about what is really happening in the context of the Ukrainian-Russian confrontation.”[Id.]
Yuri Ushakov
Yeah . . . Trump’s got them on the ropes, all right. And this is how he upped the pressure today:
“We’ll find out whether or not he’s tapping us along or not and if he is, we’ll respond a little bit differently but it will take about a week and a half to two weeks. They seem to want to do something, but until the document is signed I can’t tell you. Nobody can.
“I can say this: I’m very disappointed at what happened a couple of nights now, where people were killed, in the middle of what you would call a negotiation. When I see rockets being shot into cities, that’s no good. We aren’t going to allow it.” [Joe Stanley-Smith, Politico, May 28, 2025.]
Well, that’s telling ‘em, all right! I can only imagine what Putin must be going through right now . . .
Yup . . . that looks about right.
To begin with:
We already know he’s been “tapping us along” . . . for years now;
You’ve just given Putin another couple of weeks to continue bombarding Ukraine;
Putin doesn’t give a rat’s ass about how “disappointed” you are;
And how in hell are you not “going to allow it”? You haven’t been able to slow him down, much less stop him, up to now.
*. *. *
How I miss the days when real statesmen sat across a real table from one another and carried on real negotiations. All of Putin’s dancing and Trump’s pussy-footing around are fruitless . . . not to mention, absolutely exhausting.
Yesterday was one of those dreary, rainy, thunder-stormy days in the southern U.S., when you should be taking care of some of the little chores on your to-do list, but all you really want to do is sleep. I chose to do the latter — until nearly 1:00 p.m., in fact. But then I had the option of getting up or wetting the bed, so I wisely decided to get up.
I resisted the urge to spend the day in my pajamas, hoping that I might find a bit of energy at some point. But ambition eluded me. Instead, I sat in my den, drinking my breakfast (a protein drink, not booze); read and deleted my first batch of 102 (by actual count) junk emails of the day; tried unsuccessfully to compose something interesting for my blog; worked on a crossword puzzle; went to the kitchen for something to eat; and listened to the rain beating against the windows on this side of the house.
And when an unexpectedly sharp clap of thunder lifted me a couple of inches out of my chair, it also sent Dixie — our mixed-breed fur baby, who normally isn’t bothered by storms — leaping across the room and onto my feet. (She would have landed in my lap, but my iPad was already there.) So I spent the next 20 or 30 minutes petting, rubbing, scratching, massaging, and talking to her, while she milked the attention for all it was worth.
It did not take her that long to calm down. But I found, as I was focused on making her feel better, that I was also benefiting from those moments of togetherness. There is nothing in this world like the pure love and gratitude in a dog’s eyes as you rub its belly while it lies, spread-eagle and unashamed, across your feet.
But then my right foot began to feel a bit numb, so I called an end to Dixie’s full-body massage, hobbled around the house until I felt my circulation returning, and once more settled down to think about a topic for today’s blog.
Unfortunately, the only thing that came to mind was how totally boring my life has become. I mean . . . routine, and dull. Dull, dull, dull.
I am — mentally, at least — the same person who once traveled to places like Budapest, and Tbilisi, and Szentendre; who lived in Prague and in Moscow; who climbed a mountain in Czechoslovakia, and flew in a World War II biplane in Texas; who ate fresh-caught salmon in Alaska, lobster in Nova Scotia, and Dover sole in Stockholm; and who smuggled a Russian-government-issued portrait of Vladimir Lenin out of Moscow in my suitcase under the watchful eye of the KGB.
The Contraband Portrait
But those days of travel and adventure are all in the past. Even if I had the opportunity today, I’m not physically able to do the things I did 30, or 20, or even 10 years ago. And while I’m so grateful that I took the chances I did back then, I sometimes — on a rainy day like yesterday — find myself resenting the fact that I no longer have those kinds of experiences to look forward to.
And then I saw this cartoon on Facebook, and when I stopped laughing, I realized that — while things aren’t as great as they used to be — they’re not actually as bad as the seagull seems to think.
Life may no longer be exciting; but I figure that, as long as I have a dog to cuddle with, a sense of humor, and a blog to write, I’ll be fine.
The Blog About Everything … and Sometimes Nothing 