“If, when you wake up in the morning, you can think of nothing but writing . . . then you are a writer.” – Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters To a Young Poet, 1929.
*. *. *
My Constant Companions
Hi — I’m back. I attempted a day without writing yesterday . . . “attempted” being the operative word.
That’s it. I tried . . . I really did. But the wicked little guy on my right shoulder kept pulling me away from the well-intended angel on my left.
I read for a while, but I’m currently into Alexei Navalny’s posthumously-published autobiography, “Patriot,” and I had to put it down because it just made me want to write more about him and the injustice of the end of his life.
Then I tried organizing my winter clothes and doing some laundry, but my back started to ache so I had to give it up. At least, that’s the reason I gave myself.
I considered going for a walk, but there’s really nowhere different to go in this residential area . . . or so the devil squatting on my right shoulder said as it talked me out of any sort of a healthy activity.
And when I finally sat down, I picked up my iPad . . . checked my email, the weather forecast, and my bank balance . . . and automatically clicked on my blog and began churning out nonsense about guitars, and six-million-dollar bananas duct-taped to a wall, and substitute lyrics for Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.
And I knew I had lost the battle with myself.
What kept running through my brain were those words of early 20th Century writer Rainer Maria Rilke about being a writer. And they fit.
Oh, no . . . I’m not famous; I’m not even published. But I keep writing things: this blog, an occasional satirical poem, even a rough draft of a book. Not many people read what I create, but I do it because of some stupid compulsion . . . because I love doing it.
So when someone asks me the usual question that people ask when meeting someone new — “What do you do?” — I don’t have to say, “Not much — I’m retired now.” Instead, I can honestly say:
About 34 years ago, I was on a flight from Dallas (Texas) to Dulles (Washington, D.C.) when the pilot announced that we should all look out the windows on the left side of the plane, as we were about to pass a Stealth jet flying toward us in the opposite direction — undoubtedly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for most or all of us.
“Here it comes!” “No, there it goes!”
Luckily, not everyone on the right side of the aisle jumped out of their seats, or else the plane would likely have tipped precipitously to the left. And that big black bird was so fast there wasn’t enough time anyway. But it was quite a thrill for those of us who did get a glimpse.
That was then. Now it is 2024, and our ideas of excitement have been altered by three decades of technological advancement the likes of which the world has never before seen. If our great-grandparents thought electricity was something . . .
But it’s not just the good things that have changed: the medical advancements, GPS everything, “smart” everything, faster everything, artificial intelligence. (Actually, I’m still undecided about that last one, but a lot of people seem fascinated by it.)
Unfortunately, all of that technology has found its way into the armaments business as well. We have missiles, and drones, and delivery systems that would have made the ancient Chinese think twice about marketing that gunpowder stuff.
And now, instead of being told to look quickly to see the Stealth fighter passing by, passengers flying over parts of the Middle East are being warned that the objects tearing up the skies to the left appear to be . . . oh, they can’t be . . . but they are . . . they’re enemy missiles!
Holy crap!!!
No, this is not a Leslie Nielsen “Airplane” movie spoof from the ‘80s. This is what has been happening to real people, on real flights, in real time. On October 1st, a passenger on an Emirates flight from Amsterdam to Dubai thought she was seeing fireworks. What she actually saw was a barrage of Iranian missiles headed to Israel. And hers was just one of scores of flights that had the same experience that day. [Benjamin Katz, Daniel Kiss and Peter Champelli, Wall Street Journal, November 21, 2024.]
In 2023, about ten missiles were fired in the area per month. So far this year, the average monthly number is up to 162. Pilots and passengers have spotted them in the air, and some missiles have struck near airports. No advance warnings have been issued to airlines by the militaries or militias, and airspace restrictions have been slow in coming. [Id.]
On October 1st, more than 80 flights were diverted because of the “fireworks” spotted by Emirates passengers. Other flights continued uninterrupted through what is one of the world’s busiest air corridors. Control towers in Iraq, Kuwait and Bahrain received air messages from pilots declaring emergencies and diversions, with some reporting that they could actually see the missiles:
“Missiles over Baghdad, over Najaf, over everywhere,” one pilot radioed. [Id.]
That week a lot of people were excited just to have made it to October 2nd.
*. *. *
I used to love flying: the thrill of leaving the ground, the promise of adventure awaiting me at the other end, the lovely onboard service, and the relief of the safe landing. It hasn’t been as much fun for quite some time now, with the increased security measures in the crowded airports, the cramped seating, terrible meals, angry passengers, and stressed-out attendants.
Flying First Class In the 1960s
But now, if you’re lucky, all the inconveniences may be offset by the privilege of viewing a barrage of missiles being aimed at a faraway civilian population . . . or perhaps the anti-missile fire headed in the opposite direction from the targeted country.
And if you’re very, very lucky, they won’t be anywhere near your plane.
I believe that what I am currently experiencing is what is known as “withdrawal.” I’m not sweating or trembling yet; but my stomach has been invaded by a mass of imaginary butterflies, and I’ve got a serious case of the munchies. Chips, chocolate, cheese, chalk . . . whatever happens to be in my line of sight when I enter the kitchen.
So I turned on TV, and fell right into a commercial featuring Santa’s reindeer. I don’t know what they were advertising, and it doesn’t matter. What popped into my mind was trying to recall the names of all eight reindeer (nine, with Rudolph) . . . and suddenly I was trying to fit all of their names into the melody of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.
You can do that with the Seven Dwarfs, you know. Try it:
But it doesn’t work with the reindeer — they have one too many, even eliminating poor Rudolph. And even if we cut it back to seven, someone’s name has to be shortened to a single syllable to make it work. The best I could come up with was:
“Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Cupid, Don and Blitzen.”
Sorry, Comet. And Rudolph.
*. *. *
Well, I couldn’t quit there. If I didn’t keep going, the munchies would take over again. So I thought . . . quite illogically . . . what about the planets?
Planets? Why planets?
Damned if I know. But there they were, orbiting what was left of my brain, crying out to become lyrics to a tune from a kids’ movie. And here they are . . . more or less . . . in whatever key works for you:
“Venus, Saturn, Jupiter, Neptune, Earth, Mars and Merc’ry.”
Yes, I know — I yanked a syllable from Mercury, but it’s still recognizable. And I had to eliminate Uranus’ three syllables altogether, which I figured would be okay since the name just makes kids giggle anyway. It’s the best I could do.
Next up: the Von Trapp children from Sound of Music. Wish me luck.
[This is what happens when I make a concerted effort not to write for a whole day — my mind goes walkabout.]
Would I pay a fortune for a guitar?
Possibly not, since I don’t know how to play it. Though if it had belonged to someone like, say, Andres Segovia — arguably the world’s greatest classical guitarist — or the late, great jazz guitarist Charlie Byrd . . . then, as a collector’s item, I might consider it.
Andres Segovia
But would I shell out $10K for this next one?
Not in this lifetime (or any other).
But then, some guy with more money than brains (or taste) just paid over $6 million for this piece of “art” . . . which he says he’s going to eat.
“Comedian,” by Maurizio Cattelan
He’d better hurry, because it looks like it’s beginning to rot.
There’s no accounting for taste, of course — in art, or in bananas. Personally, I prefer mine with just a tinge of green. Bananas, that is. And I like my art on canvas, or carved from a beautiful hunk of stone. But, again, to each his own.
I think I’ll go now, and hang a bunch of grapes on a coat rack. There must be somebody on eBay with a few thousand extra Dollars, Euros, Yen . . . anything but Rubles . . . who likes grapes and doesn’t have a coat closet.
Not for you, good reader . . . for myself. To see how far I get into this day without writing anything for my blog.
I’ve been sitting here, staring at a blank screen, hands poised motionless over the keyboard, on and off for the past couple of hours. And I’ve got nothing.
Oh, there’s plenty of news in the media. As usual, it’s all bad, and it’s mostly about Russia. It’s beginning to feel like the Cold War ‘80s again, with all the sh*t happening over there. And it’s not that I’ve become tired of writing about it; but I’m pretty sure that by now you’re sick to death of reading about them: Putin, Peskov, Medvedev, Lavrov, and the rest. Of course, there’s also the Middle East, China, North Korea . . . and it’s all gloom and doom.
But you see what’s happening, don’t you? With Putin making nuclear threats; Netanyahu being chased by the International Criminal Court; the first Trump cabinet nominee already dropping out; and some crazy woman trying to take over Romania . . . well, it’s just downright depressing, demoralizing, and decidedly disturbing.
So, unless something big splashes onto the headlines in the next hours, I’m taking one of my short breaks. Maybe I’ll think of something amusing to talk to you about . . . something not news-related . . . something other than the price of eggs or the latest celebrity to be accused of, well, whatever.
Or maybe I’ll just start my Christmas shopping.
Or this:
Yeah . . . I like that one. Anyone care to join me?
I’ve often wondered how frequent flyers keep track of where they are when they wake up in the morning in yet another Marriott hotel that looks just like every other Marriott hotel in the world. But hopefully, although it may take a moment to remember where they are, they at least know who they are, and what country issued their passport.
Vasyl Verameychyk, on the other hand, might have a more serious problem: that of figuring out where he belongs, and whether his passport will be considered valid on any given day.
Vasyl Verameychyk
A very brief report in yesterday’s news opened with this sentence:
“Vietnam has extradited a Belarusian national who fought as a volunteer in Ukraine on Kyiv’s side to Minsk, Belarusian media reported on November 20.” [RFE/RL, November 20, 2024.]
Wait . . . what?!! How did Vietnam get into the picture?
The report went on to indicate that Vasyl is a Belarusian national who had served in the Belarusian Army for seven years, but joined in the anti-government protests of 2020. Under threat of arrest for his oppositionist activities, he fled to Ukraine, where he then fought as a volunteer against the Russian invasion of 2022 until he was wounded in April of that same year.
He next was denied permission to settle in Lithuania due to his former Belarusian Army service — the Lithuanian government being understandably wary of anyone from a Russian puppet state. So he moved to Vietnam.
Why Vietnam? Good question. The article doesn’t provide that information, and I’m having a really difficult time trying to imagine the mental leap that carried Vasyl from the Baltics to a Southeast Asian country that has drawn ever closer to Russia in recent years, and since 2022 — at the Kremlin’s request — has deported several Russian citizens living in Vietnam because they criticized the Russian invasion of Ukraine.
Vietnamese President Vo Van Thuong with Vladimir Putin
But there he was, when Aleksandr Lukashenko — self-proclaimed president of Belarus — apparently had no trouble convincing the Vietnamese authorities to extradite Vasyl back to Minsk last month to face as-yet-unspecified charges, despite international appeals having been lodged in his behalf.
Putin and Lukashenko: Two of a Kind
Today, a statement was issued from the office of Belarusian opposition leader Svyatlana Tsikhanouskaya, condemning the extradition and placing the blame squarely where it belongs — on Lukashenko’s relentless targeting of his opponents, whether inside or outside of Belarus. [RFE/RL, November 21, 2024.] Clearly, he takes his cues from his Russian patron.
The statement also advises Belarusians living abroad to “remain vigilant against potential actions by Lukashenka’s [sic] security services.” [Id.]
Poor Vasyl; the warning comes too late for him. He did nothing more than express his opposition to an illegal, immoral war. And for that, he found himself stateless: wanted by Belarus, unwanted by Lithuania, and hunted down in Vietnam.
There really is no way to run far enough, or anywhere safe enough to hide in this world.
You may have noticed two posts today, identical but for the titles and the first pictures. The reason is that Facebook — on which I share my blog posts — removed the first one, claiming it didn’t meet their criteria. It was titled “I Have An Incredible New Job,” and featured side-by-side photos of Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy. I guess someone at FB found that offensive. I consider it censorship — and I find that offensive!
I have been watching with unbridled envy as one unqualified person after another . . . after another . . . after another . . . wins a coveted spot on the incoming Trump administration’s Cabinet — subject, of course, to Congressional approval, which shouldn’t be much of a problem considering the makeup of the incoming Congress.
And the one appointment that strikes me as the most original is not actually a Cabinet position, but the new DOGE — Department of Government Efficiency — which, because of its unique status as “non-governmental,” apparently will avoid having to undergo the usual vetting process. This, of course, is most fortunate for Elon Musk, who now doesn’t have to worry about all those pesky conflict of interest issues.
(Incidentally, does it strike anyone else as a little too coincidental that the definition of “doge” includes “president,” “chief of state,” “commander in chief,” “grand vizier,” and “person in charge”?)
Ta-Da!
Anyway, I’ve decided that, being at least as qualified (though clearly not as wealthy) as any of the appointees named thus far, I deserve a seat at the table as well. I’m a native-born American citizen, well over 21 years of age, reasonably intelligent; I have excellent spelling and grammatical skills, most of my marbles, and — unlike any of the others — I still possess a scruple or two.
Therefore, I have accepted the position — which I magnanimously offered myself just a few hours ago — of Chairman of the Committee to Rewrite the English-language Dictionary . . . also known, in typical Washington acronym fashion, as CRED.
And in case you’re wondering about my “creds” for the position as Chairman of CRED . . . well, not to worry. I’ve already vetted myself, and I can assure you that I’ve never had an affair with or been hit on by Donald Trump, Elon Musk, or Sean “Diddy” Combs; never been represented in a legal matter by Rudy Giuliani; and never met with Vladimir Putin or any member of his inner circle, especially not Dmitry Peskov.
In other words, I’m dull as dishwater.
Well, whatever . . .
But I do have a great many ideas for the re-write of the English-language dictionary, which — as I am sure you will agree — is essential to the new administration’s goal of tearing down every facet of the structure that has made America the model of freedom and democracy it has been for the past 248 years, and the capitalist economy on which most of the world’s economies rely.
So without further ado, I give you just a small sampling of what we have to look forward to (not in alphabetical or any other specific order).
*. *. *
Truth. Previous definitions included such outmoded ideas as “accuracy,” “fact,” “veracity,” and “principle.” The new definition shall be: “Whatever any current member of the Trump administration declares it to be.”
Honor, Honesty. Throughout the centuries, words have passed in and out of use. The time has come for all forms of these two to go, and they shall henceforth be stricken from the new dictionary.
Altruism. Formerly defined as “selflessness,” “benevolence,” “magnanimity,” “public spirit,” and “social conscience,” the revised definition shall be: “Whatever any current member of the Trump administration decides is best for the Trump administration.”
Fiscal Responsibility. Forget any ridiculous prior concept of this term. It is now: “Whatever is required to make the rich richer, and the rest of us irrelevant.”
Patriotism. Another one of those words whose usefulness has failed to evolve over time, and is now obsolete. Out it goes.
As I said, this is just an inkling of what you have to look forward to from my Committee (whose subordinate members have yet to be chosen, but will undoubtedly include a spelling champion such as Dan Quayle, and hopefully a grammarian on the order of Arnold Schwarzenegger).
But there is one more word that I must include here, because it is, as we all know, of supreme importance to Donald Trump himself. And that word is:
Loyalty. The definition itself will not change; it will still mean “allegiance,” “devotion,” “fealty,” “obedience,” etc. However, it will now be strictly a one-way concept, i.e., loyalty to Donald Trump.
I have been watching with unbridled envy as one unqualified person after another . . . after another . . . after another . . . wins a coveted spot on the incoming Trump administration’s Cabinet — subject, of course, to Congressional approval, which shouldn’t be much of a problem considering the makeup of the incoming Congress.
And the one appointment that strikes me as the most original is not actually a Cabinet position, but the new DOGE — Department of Government Efficiency — which, because of its unique status as “non-governmental,” apparently will avoid having to undergo the usual vetting process. This, of course, is most fortunate for Elon Musk, who now doesn’t have to worry about all those pesky conflict of interest issues.
(Incidentally, does it strike anyone else as a little too coincidental that the definition of “doge” includes “president,” “chief of state,” “commander in chief,” “grand vizier,” and “person in charge”?)
The Dogs of DOGE
Anyway, I’ve decided that, being at least as qualified (though clearly not as wealthy) as any of the appointees named thus far, I deserve a seat at the table as well. I’m a native-born American citizen, well over 21 years of age, reasonably intelligent; I have excellent spelling and grammatical skills, most of my marbles, and — unlike any of the others — I still possess a scruple or two.
Therefore, I have accepted the position — which I magnanimously offered myself just a few hours ago — of Chairman of the Committee to Rewrite the English-language Dictionary . . . also known, in typical Washington acronym fashion, as CRED.
And in case you’re wondering about my “creds” for the position as Chairman of CRED . . . well, not to worry. I’ve already vetted myself, and I can assure you that I’ve never had an affair with or been hit on by Donald Trump, Elon Musk, or Sean “Diddy” Combs; never been represented in a legal matter by Rudy Giuliani; and never met with Vladimir Putin or any member of his inner circle, especially not Dmitry Peskov.
In other words, I’m dull as dishwater.
Well, whatever . . .
But I do have a great many ideas for the re-write of the English-language dictionary, which — as I am sure you will agree — is essential to the new administration’s goal of tearing down every facet of the structure that has made America the model of freedom and democracy it has been for the past 248 years, and the capitalist economy on which most of the world’s economies rely.
So without further ado, I give you just a small sampling of what we have to look forward to (not in alphabetical or any other specific order).
*. *. *
Truth. Previous definitions included such outmoded ideas as “accuracy,” “fact,” “veracity,” and “principle.” The new definition shall be: “Whatever any current member of the Trump administration declares it to be.”
Honor, Honesty. Throughout the centuries, words have passed in and out of use. The time has come for all forms of these two to go, and they shall henceforth be stricken from the new dictionary.
Altruism. Formerly defined as “selflessness,” “benevolence,” “magnanimity,” “public spirit,” and “social conscience,” the revised definition shall be: “Whatever any current member of the Trump administration decides is best for the Trump administration.”
Fiscal Responsibility. Forget any ridiculous prior concept of this term. It is now: “Whatever is required to make the rich richer, and the rest of us irrelevant.”
Patriotism. Another one of those words whose usefulness has failed to evolve over time, and is now obsolete. Out it goes.
As I said, this is just an inkling of what you have to look forward to from my Committee (whose subordinate members have yet to be chosen, but will undoubtedly include a spelling champion such as Dan Quayle, and hopefully a grammarian on the order of Arnold Schwarzenegger).
But there is one more word that I must include here, because it is, as we all know, of supreme importance to Donald Trump himself. And that word is:
Loyalty. The definition itself will not change; it will still mean “allegiance,” “devotion,” “fealty,” “obedience,” etc. However, it will now be strictly a one-way concept, i.e., loyalty to Donald Trump.
The Blog About Everything … and Sometimes Nothing 