On this date in 1977, a handsome young man named George W. Bush married a very beautiful young lady named Laura Welch in Midland, Texas. And the rest, as they say, is history.

As it happened, Mrs. Bush also celebrated her birthday yesterday. So, happy birthday (we won’t discuss numbers) to the former First Lady, and happy anniversary to you both, President and Mrs. Bush.

And while I’m at it — this being Election Day as well — I would like to congratulate “Dubya” on becoming the only living former President to refrain from endorsing a presidential candidate. That took guts.

As explained by former President Bill Clinton when the two appeared in an interview on CNN on Sunday:

“First of all, he’s spoken up, I think, more than he’s gotten credit for, and he takes every opportunity that I’ve seen to talk about how important immigration is and how we can’t survive without it.” [James Liddell, Independent, November 5, 2024.]

So he can’t in good conscience back Trump. But what about Harris? Clinton further said that he believes Bush would not want to alienate his lifelong party by publicly endorsing a Democrat. So, he chooses to remain publicly neutral. Good for him.

His daughter Barbara, on the other hand, felt no such compulsion toward reticence, openly canvassing for Kamala Harris and saying that she hopes Democrats will “move our country forward and protect women’s rights.” [Id.]

A family that puts country first, votes their respective consciences, and is honest enough to come clean about it. What an unusual, and wholly refreshing, trait to find in today’s world . . . and especially in the world of politics.

*. *. *

And this being Election Day, I also found these interesting historical notes from earlier November fifths:

1912: Woodrow Wilson wins landslide victory. He saw us through World War I, keeping us out of it for the first two and a half years. In his second term, he suffered a stroke and his wife Edith took over the reins of office. That would never happen today!

1940: FDR re-elected for a third term. And he would win a fourth term, though not for long. He got the country through most of World War II, but didn’t live to see the end of it; that “honor” — the nuclear destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki — fell to his successor, Harry Truman. No other president has been able to serve more than two terms, since the passing of the 22nd Constitutional Amendment in 1951.

1968: Richard Nixon elected president. He did some good; and then he did something really bad.

As Marc Antony famously said at Julius Caesar’s funeral:

”The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.”

So true, Mr. Shakespeare. So sadly true.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
11/5/24

When I recall my trip to Budapest in 1990 for a conference on doing business in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union, I am able to conjure up so many lovely images: a private tour of the magnificent Parliament building; a boat ride along the Duna (Danube) River to a beautiful artists’ village called Szentendre; dining on the most delectable Hungarian goulash at a neighborhood restaurant outside the tourist area; riding the funicular railway up to Fisherman’s Bastion; and watching the lights go out on the Lanchid (Chain Bridge) from my hotel room window at midnight each night.

And most clearly I remember the overall atmosphere of hope for the future and sheer joy that permeated all of Eastern Europe at that time when the Soviet occupation had finally come to an end.

I’ve also written extensively of my summer in Prague in 1991, working in the new Czech office of an American law firm and soaking up the glorious history, architecture, culture, and food of that amazing country. I never did have a chance to visit Bratislava, the capital of what is now independent Slovakia but was then the eastern half of Czechoslovakia. But at the time, it was all one big, happy, forward-looking nation, finally free of the communist yoke.

It’s been barely three decades since the Soviet Union was relieved of its forceful hegemony over most of Eastern Europe, and itself splintered into fifteen separate, sovereign nations. And during that time, enormous political, economic and social strides have been made toward providing the citizens of those countries with a freer, more prosperous, and generally better life.

But . . .

Lately, there have been rumblings of discontent and disruption coming from leaders of some of the very nations — both former Soviet republics and Eastern Bloc countries — that fought so hard and so courageously to break the chains of Soviet/Russian bondage. Belarus, as is well known, has already become a puppet of Vladimir Putin, thanks to its presumptive president, Aleksandr Lukashenko. Moldova’s West-leaning president barely squeaked through their recent election with a narrow win. And Georgia is being torn between East and West, with massive demonstrations becoming a regular occurrence.

And now we have Hungary’s Prime Minister Viktor Orban and Slovakia’s Prime Minister Robert Fico making no secret of their preference for Putin-style authoritarian rule, opposing continued aid to Ukraine in its defense against the Russian invasion, and ignoring the obligations of their memberships in both NATO and the European Union (EU).

And Vladimir Putin is making them feel all too welcome.

My fear is that, with so much emphasis — essential as it is — being given to the more obvious hot spots in the Middle East and Asia, we may be in danger of repeating one of history’s biggest mistakes: ignoring Russia’s plans for Eastern Europe until it is once again too late.

I pray we don’t.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
11/5/24

It’s finally here. I voted early, so I don’t need to face the long lines or being pushed through the crowds today. And it’s such a close race, we may not even have a final result before the end of the day.

But it’s a day to celebrate anyway, for one huge reason:

NO MORE CAMPAIGNING!

I didn’t watch this year’s debates all the way through, because they always seemed to sink to the lowest level of accusations and name-calling, with a sprinkling of outright falsehoods thrown in for good measure, and hardly a mention of any real issues. Even reading the morning-after news reports was agonizing.

And it’s easy enough to turn off the TV when all of the programming centers around the election, and to delete the political emails.

But what has driven me batshit crazy this election was something new: the total bombardment by — not just emails — but hour after hour of text messages telling me to get out and vote, and how I should vote. I already did, you nimrods! Now please, lose my number!

Otherwise, next election, I’m burying my phone in the back yard until it’s over.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
11/5/24

And they’ve all survived the war in Ukraine.

I have to give the Russian government extra points for ingenuity. They’re facing a severe population decrease as a result of several factors: tens of thousands of military casualties in Ukraine; a declining birth rate among young couples not willing to bring children into a world gone mad; and the exodus of opponents to the Putin regime in order to avoid prison or conscription into the Army.

So how do they deal with these problems? Quite simply, they pass a few new laws. To fix the drop in the birth rate, they declare 2024 to be the “Year of the Family,” and proclaim that it is a woman’s duty (and privilege) to produce anywhere from three to eight children — even “encouraging” them to copulate with their mates during their lunch breaks at work. And written into this declaration is a substantial fine if you should be heard bad-mouthing the sexy new program, or even mentioning that you don’t wish to have children. I haven’t heard how this is working out in terms of an increased birth rate; but it certainly sounds as though lunch hours at the office are a lot more fun these days.

Then some genius came up with the idea of attracting new naturalized citizens from the ranks of military volunteers from other countries. A decree by President Putin at the start of the year “allows passports to be issued to participants in the invasion of Ukraine and their family members.” [RadioFreeEurope/RadioLiberty, November 4, 2024.]

Since the first of the year, some 3,344 foreigners have been granted Russian citizenship under this edict, though it is unclear whether that number includes family members. The law applies to military personnel who sign a one-year contract with the Russian Army or pro-Russian military formations fighting in Ukraine. [Id.]

So if you don’t get yourself blown apart by a Ukrainian drone or missile, you get to be the newest member of Russian society. Lucky you!

And who are these people? There are probably a few macho types from various parts of the world who thought war would be fun, or whose lives were so unhappy that anything seemed better than what they had. But for the most part, they’re probably conscripts from places like Chechnya, Africa, and now even North Korea, offered up by their governments as friendly gestures from Putin’s supplicants in exchange for . . . well, whatever it is their country happens to need.

On the flip side, however, Russian Interior Ministry representative Irina Volk said earlier this year that 1,117 already naturalized individuals had had their citizenship revoked in the first eight months of 2024 for refusing to register for military service [id.]. I guess they didn’t read the fine print on their citizenship certificates.

Thus, with 3,344 incoming and 1,117 outgoing, the population number-crunchers are left with a net gain of just 2,227 nouveau Russians.

But with a current estimated population of 144,535,500 souls, the result is a measly .00001540% population increase from this source . . . hardly worth the effort involved in implementing the program.

So I guess they’d better come up with yet another plan . . . and keep pushing for greater success in the baby-making department.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
11/4/24

Because today — November 4th — is, for some reason I couldn’t imagine, officially designated:

“National Chicken Lady Day.”

I was unable to figure out whether this was meant to be a day dedicated to lady chickens — better known as hens — or to cowardly female humans. But thanks to the wonders of Google — which, by the way, I hope nobody messes with because I couldn’t live without it — I was able to learn that National Chicken Lady Day is neither of those things.

It is, in fact, dedicated to a lovely lady named Dr. Marthenia “Tina” Dupree, who, based on her biography, has done much to earn the honor of having a day named for her . . . and making the rest of us feel like underachievers.

I just think they might have picked a better name. But she doesn’t seem to mind.

The name was inspired by her twelve years of work as Director of Community Relations and Training for the second-largest chicken restaurant in the world, during which time she became known for her work with the community and the many people she helped. [National Day Calendar, November 4, 2024.]

After resigning from that position, she went on to bigger and better things, starting her own Motivational Training Center LLC, receiving more than 500 plaques and awards for community service, authoring four books, and much more. She now has an internet radio program on blog talk radio, and is an adjunct professor at Florida Memorial University. And still more. [Heidi Richards, BLOG, December 14, 2015.]

So you see, you can’t judge a holiday by its nickname.

*. *. *

Now, I know I’ll never have a day named after me. But if one of my goofy friends ever decides to give it a try — you know, just for fun — I’d like to share the honor with my sister, because I already have the name picked out. She and I always had each other’s backs, and had a favorite saying to warn off anyone who tried to mess with one of us. Therefore, I would ask that September 18th — her birthday — be forever designated as:

“Don’t F*ck With the Lipsons” Day.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
11/4/24

There is a town in the United States called Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, near a spot where the states of Maryland, Virginia and West Virginia meet. It offers, in addition to magnificent scenic views of the three states, carefully-preserved reminders of the history of America’s Civil War. An easy drive from the Washington, D.C. area, it’s the perfect place for a day’s outing.

*. *. *

And there is a similar spot — not in or anywhere near the United States — that brings together three countries whose mutual interests cry out for the perfect meeting place:

The nearest village is called Fangchuan, which, while located in China, is sandwiched between Russia and North Korea, and has become quite the local tourist attraction for its views of all three countries. [Laura Bicker, BBC News, November 2, 2024.]

Now, it’s well known that Russia and China are currently best buddies, in the political scheme of things. And North Korea has been cozying up to Russia by shipping an estimated 10,000 of its hapless military troops to Russia, apparently to be sent into the meat grinder that is now Ukraine to fight alongside Russia’s own. And there have been well-documented meetings between two of these countries’ leaders at a time. But when — and where — would political protocol be best served to arrange a meeting among all three: Vladimir Putin, Xi Jinping, and Kim Jong Un?

But all three together?

And the solution? Why, at the confluence of the three countries, of course . . . especially now, since Putin can’t travel to more than a handful of countries without risking arrest under the terms of the International Criminal Court’s warrant against him for war crimes committed in Ukraine.

Awkward.

So, in order to advance Putin’s and Xi’s ambitions toward creation of a “new world order” — in which I’m quite sure Kim would be more than happy to play a major role — here’s what I recommend:

Construct a secure building at Fangchuan in which they can hold their witches’ (or warlocks’) covens; lock them safely inside; toss the key into the nearby Tumen River; and walk away. Nature will take care of the rest.

Half of the world’s political problems would thereby be solved, and we could get to work on selecting a similar spot in the Middle East to deal with the other half. That should be simple enough . . . so many of those countries are crammed right against each other’s borders.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
11/4/24

No sooner had I posted an update on the Feenstras’ life in Russia, including the news that dad Arend was scheduled for gall bladder surgery (presumably) on Monday, than I received an online heads-up of his post-surgery broadcast . . . on Sunday. Never having heard of a pre-scheduled, non-emergency operation being done on a Sunday — not here in the U.S., at least — it was sufficiently surprising to send me running to look at my calendar.

Yup — it’s Sunday, all right.

And never having seen the inside of a Russian hospital — I didn’t allow myself to get sick or injured while there — I was particularly curious to get a look at what I had missed. I don’t know where this hospital was, but I’m guessing Nizhny Novgorod. In any event, he said it was an old building, but the inside appeared to be spotlessly clean and bright. He had a private room with its own bathroom — and he even seemed surprised at that, saying he wasn’t sure whether he’d asked for it or paid extra for it. The bathroom looked quite nice; but there was a really uncomfortable-looking, non-adjustable bed; no visible monitors or other basic equipment; and no TV. But it was clean. I could almost smell the disinfectant.

Arend appeared in the video wearing his own clothes, up and about, saying he expected to be taken into surgery in a half hour to an hour. He said he had already had his chest shaved, yet he wasn’t in a hospital gown. He mentioned that all pre-op tests had been completed in advance (x-rays, blood work, some sort of scan); but his current vitals were not being monitored.

Then he was out of surgery, with wife Anneesa by his bedside. He was sitting up, only slightly groggy, and feeling just a little sore but otherwise fine. And next he was out of bed, walking around and talking about his experience.

First, of course, came the praise — for the doctors, the nurses, the whole Russian medical system . . . everything but the food. (More about that later.) Earlier, en route to the hospital, he had been concerned about possible language difficulties, but there was no further mention of that.

There was a bit more Canada-bashing with regard to the medical care. He talked again about the long delays in getting to see a specialist in Canada (which, in all fairness, I have heard from other Canadian folks as well — apparently the downside to free medical care, upholding the truth of the old adage that you get what you pay for); whereas, he said, everything in Russia was very quick and efficient. And he couldn’t say enough about how “nice” everyone was.

He treated his viewers to some photos of his food . . . well, “treated” probably isn’t the right descriptor. I know Russian food; I grew up with it in my grandparents’ homes, and I’ve eaten a lot of it in Russia. And I love it (except for the beets). But none of this was recognizable. Of course, it’s hospital food, which tends to be pretty ghastly in any country. He did say that it tasted better than it looked, and pointed out some oatmeal and what he described as apple cake; but he also said he was really hungry as he hadn’t eaten for some 20 hours, so almost anything would have tasted good at that point. At dinner, the chicken soup was definitely familiar.

And then he got around to the operating room experience. And I must say that, for a seriously conservative Christian (he brought his bible to the hospital for reading material), he took it all much better than I would have expected.

To begin with, there was never a hospital gown. Not anywhere. He was told to undress — completely — in the operating room and get onto the operating table. He confessed to being someone who prefers to be covered, not standing naked in front of the whole world; in other words, he was mortified. But he followed instructions. Now, knowing how cold those tables usually are, I can only imagine . . .

Anyway, it seems he was not the only patient in that operating theater; there was another operation being performed on the other side of the room, which hardly seems . . . to say the least . . . sanitary. (I presume that individual was also naked, but Arend discreetly didn’t comment on that, and I’m guessing they were not introduced.)

And then it was over. He mentioned his nakedness once more, saying they could at least have thrown a blanket over him on the way back to his room. And he didn’t say anything about a recovery room — whether there was one or not. So, all very quick and . . . again . . . efficient. He was somewhat nonplussed regarding the lack of concerns about modesty, or privacy — or warmth, for that matter. But efficient as hell.

At the end of the video, Arend Feenstra was doing fine, and had managed to get into a tee shirt and shorts. He said he had some pain in his back and abdominal area, which is to be expected, but that it wasn’t unbearable; he made no mention of pain medication. Mainly he was unhappy about not being able to work for a while. He did lift his shirt to display the region of his incisions — which were apparently small, as they were covered with four or five little square patches on his abdomen — and said that he understood the stitches were dissolvable and would not have to be removed.

There had to have been an interpreter there, along with his ubiquitous cameraman. Or maybe they were one and the same.

*. *. *

So there you have it. As for this testimonial regarding the Russian medical system, my inner skeptic has questions. First, does everyone get the swift and efficient service he did? Can any ordinary Russian citizen order up a private room, and if so, can they afford it? Can everyone make a YouTube video of their hospital experience? And even in Arend Feenstra’s case, was he restricted to photographing only certain specified areas of the hospital?

I’m relieved and delighted that he’s doing well after his surgery. You know, I’m really beginning to like this guy. He’s gutsy, he’s competent, and he manages to look at the bright side of life. He calls it faith, and I’m sure that’s part of it; but I’m afraid it’s also in large part naiveté.

And I still wonder whether he’s fully aware that, in leaving Canada for Russia, he and his family have merely traded what he considers to be the evils of liberalism for what most of us know to be the evils of totalitarianism.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
11/3/24

It started with a look at the progress of construction of the Feenstras’ new house and outbuildings. Arend is basically a one-man contracting team, with some of the children — mostly the boys — as trainee subcontractors learning on the job from Dad.

Acquiring materials, power tools, electrical service, etc., seems to have been simple enough; and luckily, Arend knows what he’s doing, as he mentioned that they have built other homes in Canada. So in addition to the house (which is acquiring a front deck at the moment), there will be a workshop, a combination schoolhouse/guest house, and goodness knows what else before the farm is finished. It does take time, though, and there have been delays; for example, the siding that was supposed to have arrived this week . . . didn’t.

All in all, though, it seems that if anyone can survive in difficult circumstances, the Feenstra family can. They are true pioneers.

And speaking of surviving, about halfway through the broadcast Arend mentioned that he will be going in tomorrow (whichever day that is, presumably Monday) for gall bladder surgery. And my reaction was:

Because over the years, I have heard horror stories about medical care — and especially hospital care — in Russia. Unless, of course, you happen to be a member of Putin’s inner circle.

But then we viewers were treated by Arend to a litany of the problems of medical care back in Canada: hours of waiting in emergency rooms, being sent home too soon after surgery, the entire medical system caring more about the money than the patient, etc. And then he told us how impressed he’s been with his care in Russia: the thoroughness of the pre-op testing, the personal concern of the doctors, the two-to-three-day stay in the hospital following surgery, etc.

By the end of the broadcast, he almost had me thinking I should head over there to have my back problems taken care of. But don’t worry — I came to my senses before doing anything rash, like checking to see whether Medicare would cover my plane fare.

So now we look forward to following the saga of Arend Feenstra’s recovery from gall bladder surgery, and his return to the construction phase of their settlement on the farm in Russia.

Which is precisely what my grandparents risked everything to escape from, all those years ago . . . for which I still thank them, each and every day.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
11/3/24

At 2:00 a.m. today (or before going to sleep last night for the early birds), everyone in the United States — except in Arizona and Hawaii, where the people obviously enjoy a much higher level of intelligence — had to turn their “un-smart” clocks and watches back one hour. The so-called “smart” devices did the honors themselves.

And so we all got to reclaim that hour of sleep we lost in March when we went through the reverse procedure.

Now, if by some miracle we, the people of the United States, were able to convince Congress to do away with this idiotic thing known as Daylight Saving Time, and do our bodies the favor of not having to go through this weird adjustment twice a year . . . would that mean that we would actually get to live one hour longer?

I don’t know whether that’s a valid hypothesis, but somehow it feels right. And at the very least, we wouldn’t have to give back that hour of shuteye next March.

So, all of you sleep-deprived folks out there: Who’s with me on this? The daylight hours get longer in the summertime anyway — why does it have to stay light until 9:00 p.m. or later? It’s hard to put young children to bed when it’s still bright and sunny outside. And it’s disorienting for our four-legged friends, you know. Just think of what it does to a dairy farmer’s milking schedule!

And by the way, does anyone know how Daylight Saving (not Savings) Time got started in the first place? I do . . . but I’m not telling. You can Google it, like I did.

So anyway, turn back your watches and “dumb” clocks, and within the next four months let’s see if we can get that crowd on Capitol Hill to do something useful for a change . . . or for no change (of time, that is).

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
11/3/24

This past week saw another Russian political travesty in the news: 62-year-old Robert Shonov, a Russian citizen who had worked for the U.S. Consulate in Vladivostok and for a private contractor that provided services to the U.S. Embassy in Moscow, convicted on charges of “confidential collaboration with a foreign state.”

And — rather oddly — there is the case of one Daniel Martindale — or someone who purports to be Daniel Martindale — an American who has allegedly been fighting with the Russian military in Ukraine for the past two years, and has just been “removed” from the battleground and brought to Moscow, where he claims he wishes to become a Russian citizen.

And each day it becomes more painfully clear that world opinion, and world condemnation, mean nothing to Vladimir Putin.

*. *. *

As for the hostages remaining in Putin’s prisons, we continue to remember them and to fight for their return. They are:

David Barnes
Staff Sergeant Gordon Black
Marc Fogel
Robert Gilman
Stephen James Hubbard
Ksenia Karelina
Michael Travis Leake
Eugene Spector
Laurent Vinatier
Robert Romanov Woodland

And all of the others whose identities are not known to me. They are not merely prisoners; they are HOSTAGES, who must be brought home as quickly as possible.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
11/3/24