My favorite Kremlin spokesman, Dmitry Peskov — well, actually the only Kremlin spokesman we ever hear from — delivered some very un-funny news yesterday in reference to a Russian military delegation presently in North Korea, reportedly for the purpose of “implementing agreements reached during President Vladimir Putin’s recent visit to Pyongyang.” [Reuters, July 19, 2024.]

So why are you smiling, Dima, you big putz? You think plotting the end of civilization is a joke? Do you??!!!

Well, he didn’t actually refer to the end of the world . . . not in so many words. But in June, Russia and North Korea did sign a “comprehensive strategic partnership” pact including a provision for “mutual defense in case of aggression against one of the countries.” And this is what Dmitry had to say about that yesterday:

“Work is underway, including in implementing the agreements reached during President Putin’s recent official visit to Pyongyang. It was a rich, informative and productive visit, and now the two sides are working to implement the agreements that were reached. Our delegation’s trip occurred as part of those agreements.” [Reuters, id.]

All right, fine. “So the west has NATO. Why shouldn’t other countries have similar mutual defense pacts?” — I hear you ask.

Well, for starters, NATO isn’t threatening to blow up our globe if things don’t go their way. Kim Jong Un and Vladimir Putin have done just that from time to time.

Second, have we seen the other provisions of their pact? Is it really just a “you-cover-my-ass-I’ll-cover-yours” equivalent to NATO’s Article 5? What don’t we know?

Third, who will be monitoring the principals? NATO has 32 members; this agreement, it appears, has just two parties. What are the safeguards against overreaction?

And finally, there is the all-important trust factor. Can you honestly tell me that you believe either of these two best buddies would put the other’s interests — or anyone’s interests — before his own? Have they ever?

It’s not a question of whether they deserve backup; it’s a matter of who’s providing that backup. If Putin says he doesn’t like U.S. policy toward . . . oh, let’s say, the Houthi rebels in Yemen . . . what’s to stop Kim from going batshit and reaching for that red button to help out his friend? Or vice-versa?

And we all know what would happen next.

*. *. *

So, Dima, do you really find it amusing that these two aggressors, each with his finger on the nuclear button, have chosen one another as their defense partner?

You do realize that, in a worst-case scenario, they’d be signing your death sentence as well, don’t you?

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/20/24

I’ve only been privileged to visit England once, and then I was limited to London. It was a five-day trip in April of 1990, for a conference that my law firm was co-sponsoring on doing business in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union — and I fell in love with the place. Most of my time was spent at the conference, of course; but there were still enough hours in the day, and evening, to manage a good bit of fun: seeing the sights, riding the Underground (or Tube, if you prefer), shopping, closing a disco in Piccadilly at 3 a.m., dodging the amorous advances of a portly, overbearing Soviet official . . .

Well, best to stop there. Suffice it to say, it was a memorable trip. I found London to be charming and civilized, and Londoners very much the same, except for the concierge in the Mayfair Hotel and one waiter in a restaurant, both of whom insisted upon correcting my American terminology. Even the food, contrary to what I had always heard, was quite good. And by some miracle, the weather held out for us as well. My only regret was that there wasn’t time to get outside of London; I never did see Oxford, or Stratford-on-Avon, or Stonehenge. Or any of those lovely little villages that are the locale of so much murder and mayhem on one of my favorite British TV shows: Midsomer Murders.

Aha! Do I hear people nodding in agreement? I thought I might. I still watch the re-runs, and I have to say, I did prefer Tom Barnaby to his cousin John. But I refuse to open the floor to a vote on who was the best Sergeant, because I thought each was wonderful in his own way, and I missed them all when they moved on. But what I loved most were the quirky villages and the . . . oh, what’s the best adjective here? . . . the bizarre characters. Those villages hid more psychopathic, sociopathic, murderous, bullying, polygamous, adulterous, fetishistic, incestuous, jealous, hateful, scheming, lying, covetous, simply miserable people within a few square kilometers than one would expect to find in the entire city of London.

What fun!

I believe the late Queen Elizabeth summed it up best when she met some of the cast members of what she said was her favorite TV show, and asked, “Tell me: is there anyone left alive in Midsomer?”

These were not simply one-and-done murder mysteries — every killer was a serial killer, often out of necessity, when he (or she) had to cover up one murder by then killing off a possible witness . . . or several. And the methods they devised to bump off those poor victims left one wondering about the sanity of the writers who dreamt up the concoctions. Such as:

– Shrink-wrapped, packaged in a shipping container of cookies, and shipped off to Denmark.
– Buried alive in wet concrete.
– Smacked in the head with various heavy, solid objects.
– Pushed off a roof.
– Scared to death by a fake ghost.
– Beheaded.
– Hung up on a meat hook alongside the fresh beef.
– Tied down and pelted with bottles of champagne launched by a conveniently handy catapult.

– Drowned in various liquids, some of them disgustingly viscous.
– Burnt to a crisp.
– Locked in a commercial freezer.
– Locked in a commercial clothes dryer.
– Locked in a room filled with gas fumes.
– Locked in an iron maiden.

– Garroted with piano wire, curtain pulls, or whatever was handy.
– Run through with a lance that happened to be sitting around.
– Poisoned with deadly mushrooms or little blue venomous frogs.
– And sometimes merely shot with a rifle, a shotgun, or a crossbow.

The British — particularly the aristocracy — seem inordinately fond of their antique weapons, don’t they?

*. *. *

And the characters themselves? With all of their manias, phobias, fetishes, and other psychological aberrations, they were beyond the imaginings of even a Dostoevsky or a Stephen King. There are too many to mention, but I do have a favorite pair: the Rainbirds. Featured in the very first season, they were a mother-and-son pair that would have made Sigmund Freud jump for joy. They met an unpleasant end — together, as they would have wanted it — but happily, the writers were able to bring them back from the dead in a later season. Well, not actually reincarnated, but cast as the nearly identical sister of the original Mrs. Rainbird and an equally obnoxious son, though not quite as evil.

If you have somehow missed this delightfully different series, I strongly recommend it. But be sure to begin at the beginning, with “The Killings at Badger’s Drift,” and say hello to the Rainbirds.

Yes, that’s the England I didn’t get to see . . . which is probably for the best. I was better off in the city, where my biggest worries were getting run over by a double-decker bus, or embarrassed to death by a very British concierge.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/20/24

Evan Gershkovich has been convicted of espionage and sentenced to a term of 16 years in a Russian prison. In addition, he was fined costs equivalent to $77 (U.S.), and certain of his personal belongings — including his iPhone and his notepad — were ordered destroyed. Not simply confiscated . . . destroyed.

Talk has now turned to the possibility of an exchange of Gershkovich for someone the Russians want released from a foreign prison: quite possibly Vadim Krasikov, presently serving a life sentence in Germany for the brazen daytime assassination of a Chechen emigre in Berlin.

And all of this is of the utmost importance. But we must not let it distract us from the equally urgent situations of others presently being held on false, purely political charges in Russian prisons:

– Vladimir Kara-Murza (British-Russian)
– Alsu Kurmasheva (American-Russian)
– Paul Whelan (American)
– Marc Hilliard Fogel (American)
– Staff Sgt. Gordon Black (American)
– Robert Woodland Romanov (American-Russian)

With the exception of U.K. citizen Vladimir Kara-Murza — whose situation is dire as he is kept incommunicado, in unknown physical condition, in the prison hospital at Prison Colony No. 7 in Omsk, Siberia — we hear little or nothing about the U.S. citizens being wrongfully imprisoned. And that silence is terrifying for them and their families at home.

Negotiations for exchanges may be underway for some or all of them, and if so, those talks are understandably not made public until they are concluded. But in the meantime, the prisoners and their loved ones live in a vacuum. There must be no letup in the pressure to bring them home.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/19/24

It was a foregone conclusion. In Russia, where the conviction rate is 99%, an acquittal would have been a miracle. The only surprise today is the speed at which the trial was concluded and the verdict announced.

Sentenced today to 16 years in prison, Gershkovich is now eligible for a possible prisoner exchange, according to statements earlier made by Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov. How long that might take is anyone’s guess.

American Paul Whelan has been waiting for four years.

The physical condition of Vladimir Kara-Murza, a British-Russian citizen, continues to decline while he languishes in a prison hospital in Siberia.

Alsu Kurmasheva, a joint U.S.-Russian citizen, remains a hostage in their vast prison system.

And there are more.

It is time — no, it is past time — to bring them home!

Not just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/19/24

Reading the subtle signs, one almost dares to hope.

The trial of American journalist Evan Gershkovich — on specious charges of espionage — had been scheduled to resume in Yekaterinburg, Russia, in mid-August. But it was suddenly accelerated and rescheduled for yesterday, July 18th, reportedly at the request of Gershkovich’s attorneys.

In a legal system so heavily weighted against the accused — the conviction rate stands at 99% — this seems, to say the least, an odd turn of events. In addition, hints are now being given of behind-the-scenes negotiations proceeding toward a prisoner exchange in the foreseeable future.

Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov said on Wednesday that the “special services” of Moscow and Washington are discussing such a possibility. Previous mentions of a trade included the caveat that there would have to be a verdict in Gershkovich’s case before any decision could be reached regarding a swap. One wonders, then, whether the sudden decision to move the trial date up by a month might have anything to do with ongoing negotiations. After all, the harsher the verdict against Gershkovich, the more valuable Russia’s bargaining chip would be.

Of course, wondering is all we can do at this point. The negotiations — if indeed they are proceeding — are kept at a level of secrecy very much the same as Gershkovich’s trial itself. At Yekaterinburg’s “Palace of Justice,” no one other than the active participants is allowed in the courtroom. The public was told that the defendant is present; however, members of the press were not even allowed to see him prior to the hearing, as they were at the first session last month. Counsel are prohibited from commenting on the proceedings. (I have no idea what would happen if someone were to violate that constraint, but thus far in this case, no one has.)

We have been told that closing arguments are to be delivered today, Friday, July 19th. There is no estimate given as to when the court’s verdict may be expected. So, again, the world waits.

When dealing with Russia — and especially with the Russian justice system — waiting can become a full-time occupation.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/19/24

The trial of Wall Street Journal’s Evan Gershkovich on bogus charges of espionage was scheduled to resume in mid-August. But the Russian court in Yekaterinburg granted his attorneys’ petition to move the hearing forward, and it will now take place today, July 18th. Taking into account the time difference (I am on the U.S. east coast), it has probably already begun.

The trial, as is customary in these cases, is being held behind closed doors. There is little chance that Evan Gershkovich will receive anything but a guilty verdict, and — barring a miracle — we will simply have to await word as to the length of his sentence.

And so the travesty that passes for law and justice in Russia continues. But so do our efforts to find a means to bring our hostages home.

To be continued . . .

Brendochka
7/18/24

When I think of all the years I blindly and adamantly avoided all social media — judging it a total waste of my valuable time, and worse, a dangerous grazing ground for scammers and hackers — I can’t believe I’m actually writing this! My friends and business colleagues couldn’t understand how I — an otherwise fairly intelligent and up-to-date human being — could be so far behind the times. And I couldn’t understand how they could allow themselves to be sucked into such meaningless twaddle (as I thought of it).

Yet, here I am, addressing you on Facebook. How did that happen? What lightning strike caused such a dramatic change of mind and heart?

Quite simply, it was something called boredom. And a blog.

Newly retired, with lots of time on my hands, I needed to fill the hours that had once been occupied with a long morning rush hour, work (the kind that paid a living wage), and an even longer evening rush hour. That was about ten hours a day. There were factors that made it impossible for me to do the traveling I would have loved after retiring, so I looked for something closer to home. And I began to write.

First I wrote a book. That took about two years. And there it now sits, in a big pink three-ring binder: 300-plus pages of non-fiction in search of a publisher or a literary agent willing to read it. Anyone have any ideas? I’m good with words; I don’t know sh*t about promoting myself.

And then I had an epiphany: I could publicize the fact that I’d written this book by writing a blog. It wouldn’t require a publisher or an agent up front, and it would, of course, go viral — just like those vapid little “influencers” who tell you what cosmetics to use and what TV shows to watch and what cruises to take. Surely I’m worth as much as they are. Right?

Well, apparently not. I love writing my blog every day and — as I hit that “Publish” key, and “Share” to FB — feeling that thrill of anticipation that this is the one that will do it for me. And I adore the half dozen or so loyal friends who actually show up to read my words.

But no publisher. No agent. No viral. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Still, it hasn’t been a total loss — not by any means. Because aside from the nearly orgasmic pleasure of reaching for that “Publish” key every day, I have — to my everlasting surprise — discovered so much just from scanning through FB’s endless variety of offerings.

For example, just today I learned . . .

– that actor Donald Sutherland would have been 89 years old today . . . if he hadn’t died last month.

– that some guy I never heard of is happy to help out around the house because he appreciates everything his wife does.

– that some crazy lady I never heard of is happy to welcome the black bears that regularly show up on her porch and climb her trees.

– that the British royal family is always “freaking out” about something or other.

– that there is a thing called the “Great Pumpkin Tabletop Tree,” featuring Peanuts characters, for your Halloween decor — and it will only set you back $139.99.

– that Kanye West’s new wife showed up nearly naked in public again . . . and again wasn’t arrested.

– that someone I knew years ago had some yummy food today.

– that another woman I don’t know loves her grandchildren.

– the meaning of the lyrics to Bohemian Rhapsody. (At last, something useful!).

– how to paint flowers on a rock.

– where to buy all sorts of weird stuff.

– that a lot of people get sucked into buying all sorts of weird stuff. Every single day.

– that David Hasselhoff is 72. (Whoa!)

– that AI still has trouble replicating people’s hands . . . and the stairs in “Tiny Houses.”

– that Tiny Houses apparently don’t have bathrooms or closets.

– that there is a frightening number of Bridezillas (and other “zillas”) out there.

– that baby animals are adorable. (Okay, I already knew that.)

– that a lot of sleazy people will do anything for publicity. (Knew that, too.)

– that a lot of stupid people will gladly bare their souls to the world, and actually ask millions of other stupid people they’ve never met for life-altering advice.

– and that once you post something on FB, unless you delete it, it never really goes away; it just keeps getting re-posted, and re-posted, and re-posted . . .

*. *. *

And that’s just a small fraction of the content that’s out there, every single day. And I haven’t even mentioned all the ads for everything from the good stuff (like beautiful leather-bound books) to junk that will fall apart when you take it out of the package — if the package ever arrives in the first place and then you have to deal with your credit card company to get them to back out the charge so be really careful who you order stuff from because some of them aren’t really everything they say they are.

*. *. *

There is an up-side, though. Just as I was beginning to think I’d been right all along, and that social media was a big fat waste of time and energy, I realized that I’d actually found a bunch of old friends (a few, sadly, in cemeteries) that I’d lost touch with years ago. And reconnecting with the live ones has been an indescribable joy.

Facebook has also enabled me to keep in touch with what’s going on in my neighborhood and general vicinity. I might otherwise never have known about the local Fourth of July festivities, or the upcoming repaving of our nearby main road. Or that an old friend has become a grandmother for the first time, and another is living the good life in Spain.

So I’ve decided that scrolling through Facebook is like shopping at a big discount store: you have to plow through a lot of tref before you finally get to the good stuff. But the good stuff can be amazing.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/18/24

It’s not encouraging, but there is word from Vladimir Kara-Murza’s wife Evgenia . . . which I suppose is better than the long stretches of silence we’ve come to expect from the Putin regime.

We know — but only learned after the fact — that on Thursday, July 4th, Kara-Murza was transferred from his “punishment cell” in the “special regime” prison colony at Omsk, Siberia, to the adjoining prison hospital, where he was held incommunicado for six days. Even his attorneys, who flew the 1,000 miles from Moscow to Omsk to meet with him, were told that he was unavailable and “still being evaluated.” Finally, on Wednesday, July 11th, his local Omsk counsel was able to see him, reporting that he was “stable” but “angry.”

And now another six days have passed with no updates. If anyone has been able to contact him since the 11th, I haven’t seen it reported in the mass media. But Evgenia Kara-Murza is not being quiet. She has described her reaction to the first news of his having been moved:

“I was very scared. You know, we’ve seen this before. Vladimir is a personal enemy of the Russian state. He still has the longest sentence served in modern Russia for political reasons, and his sentence might actually get longer in the coming months, years, because I think that they’re about to open a fourth criminal case against him. So, 25 years is not the limit for the Putin regime, and I know how they see him and I see how they treat him..” [Tom Watling, Independent (UK), July 16, 2024.]

But knowing that her husband was still alive brought little relief to Mrs. Kara-Murza. “When you think of a hospital, you think of a safe place, right? This hospital has nothing to do with what you think of as a hospital. He’s still in solitary. And the fact that he says that he’d rather be in his solitary cell at the prison colony of a strict regime, I think says a lot. Everything else is just as it was at the strict regime prison colony, only now he can barely see his lawyer on top of everything else and I am sure that he’s not being provided actual help.” [Watling Interview, id.]

Evgenia Kara-Murza has said she fears that time is “running out” for her husband, and that this transfer to the hospital is further evidence of Russia’s power over him. “There is no one else, besides the late Navalny, who is not allowed out of solitary for almost a year. So yes, of course, every time he disappears, even for a short period of time, I am extremely worried.” [Id.]

Knowing what happened to Alexei Navalny in February — when he was reported by the authorities at his prison camp to have died of “sudden death syndrome” — can anyone blame her?

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/17/24

That would be Viktor Orban, of course: the current Prime Minister of Hungary, whose country has just begun its six-month (rotating) term as president of the European Union (EU).

The same Viktor Orban who has recently been racking up the frequent flyer miles, holding meetings — unauthorized and unsanctioned by the EU (or by NATO, of which Hungary is also a member) — with the likes of Vladimir Putin, Xi Jinping and others, on their home turfs.

The same Viktor Orban who has labeled his tour as a “peace mission,” designed to bring about an end to Russia’s war in Ukraine.

The same Viktor Orban who has gone against his fellow EU members by staunchly refusing to supply Ukraine with the weapons it needs for its defense against Russia’s onslaught, and threatening to block financial assistance to Ukraine’s suffering populace.

And the same Viktor Orban who knows — who has to know — that his country needs to remain aligned with the West in order to survive.

How comfortable can it be, sitting on that proverbial fence?

In an interview with Hungarian newspaper Magyar Nemzet (July 13, 2024), Orban’s political director said: “If Europe wants peace and wants to have a decisive say in settling the war and ending the bloodshed, it must now work out and implement a change of direction.” [Justin Spike, Associated Press, July 15, 2024.]

But his critics say he is acting “against the unity and interests of the EU and NATO . . . and of pursuing an appeasement strategy concerning Russia’s aggression.” [AP, id.] Ursula von der Leyen, current president of the EC (European Commission, the executive arm of the EU), has accused Orban of attempting to placate Putin. She wrote on X: “Appeasement will not stop Putin. Only unity and determination will pave the path to a comprehensive, just and lasting peace in Ukraine.” [Id.] Certainly her analysis is borne out by Putin’s own continued insistence that there will be no peace without acceptance of his demands — which include ceding large portions of Ukrainian territory to Russia . . . a condition to which Ukraine never will, nor should it, agree.

And as if to add insult to injury, Orban has also followed up on his trips to Beijing, Moscow and Washington with a letter to the EU member states, warning that a radical shift of policy toward the Russia-Ukraine conflict will be necessary “immediately after [Donald Trump’s] re-election as US president” (as though the result of the election were a given). In the letter, Orban proposes “engaging in high-level political talks with China to explore the modalities for a further peace conference on Ukraine, reopening direct diplomatic communication with Russia and launching a coordinated political offensive toward the Global South to regain its support.” [Gerardo Fortuna, EuroNews, July 16, 2024.]

Plagiarizing Putin’s playbook now, are we, Mr. Orban? Because that’s exactly how it sounds.

*. *. *

But now, Viktor Orban is going to begin to feel the first stabbings from the pickets of that fence on which he has been sitting — the allegorical “fence” between East and West he has been sharing with Türkiye’s Recep Tayyip Erdogan, Slovakia’s Robert Fico, and Poland’s Andrzej Duda . . . all friends, to one degree or another, of Vladimir Putin. Because top officials of the EU have now decided to boycott all informal meetings to be hosted by Hungary during its six-month EU presidency.

The neighborhood kids aren’t coming to your party, Viktor.

*. *. *

How much of a deterrent that will be to his high-handed methods of ingratiating himself with the leadership of Putin and Xi’s “new world order” remains to be seen. But it is clear that Viktor Orban cannot be ignored. Speaking in favor of the opposition is one thing. Sleeping with the enemy is an entirely different matter.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/17/24

Or so says the all-seeing, all-knowing . . . no, not the Wizard of Oz, but close. It’s Elon Musk. So you know it must be true. Right?

And what does he brings us today? Not, for once, a product of his fertile imagination, but a concept that has been around for a while, and that he has now wholeheartedly embraced: Pronatalism.

“Excuse me? What the hell is that?” . . . I hear from every direction, including from my own mind. So let’s break it down into its individual parts:

pro: meaning “for” or “in favor of.”
natal: referring to birth.
ism: a belief system.

Now I’m beginning to get it . . . sort of. It’s a movement to get people . . . well . . . moving. Having more children, to be specific — lots and lots of children — whether you want them or not. Remember yesterday’s discussion of Musk’s alleged (but denied) offer to donate his sperm in order to populate Mars? Well, it sounds like it’s gonna be one big ‘60s-style love-in.

Now, cut that out! This is serious.

And strange. He was just telling us we need to get Mars ready to be inhabited because we’ve pretty much worn Earth to a frazzle, and now he says we need more people here? Surely he’s talking about raising the first generation to be sent to Mars . . . right? That would sort of, almost, make sense.

Well, now I’m not so sure. Because what the Pronatalists are saying is that, in spite of Earth’s worsening problems — not the least of which are the environmental issues caused by global warming, which in turn is partially the result of overpopulation — our planet is actually in danger of becoming . . . drumroll, please . . .

UNDERpopulated!!! We need more people.

Again: “Excuse me? What the hell . . .?”

Yes, I hear you. And I’m with you. There does seem to be a bit of a dichotomy here. Does Musk even realize that he’s touting two diametrically opposed premises: one, that the Earth’s resources are being exhausted due to the ravages of over-population so that an alternative habitat must be found; and two, that . . .

Well, this is where it gets interesting, and somewhat complicated. Two articles, both focused on a couple named Malcolm and Simone Collins, explain it most clearly. According to Luke Munn of the University of Queensland in his May 28, 2024, article in theconversation.com, “Pronatalism is the latest Silicon Valley trend.” Its advocates feel that “declining birth rates across many developed countries are an existential threat. The solution is to have ‘tons of kids,’ and to use a hyperrational, data-driven approach to guide everything from genetic selection to baby names and day-to-day parenting.” [Luke Munn, The Guardian, id.]

My initial reaction: Stepford babies??!!! Holy crap!

And reading on, I found I wasn’t far off. In fact, it appears to be even worse than I’d feared.

As Mr. Munn describes the Collinses: “They don’t heat their Pennsylvania home in winter, because heating is a ‘pointless indulgence.’ Their children wear iPads around their necks. And a Guardian journalist witnessed Malcolm strike their two-year-old across the face for misbehaviour, a parenting style they apparently developed based on watching ‘tigers in the wild.’”

I was about to Google the number for Pennsylvania Child Protective Services when I came across another article, this one by Jenny Kleeman of The Guardian, detailing her interview with the Collinses, which took place when Simone Collins was eight months pregnant with their fourth child. When Ms. Kleeman arrived at the Collins home, she met their four-year-old son, Octavian George Collins. His little brother, two-year-old Torsten Savage Collins, was “on his iPad somewhere upstairs.” Simone had her daughter, 16-month-old Titan Invictus Collins, strapped to her back — perhaps as a counterweight to her eight-months-pregnant belly. And Ms. Kleeman was proudly told that the name chosen for the soon-to-be born fourth baby — a girl — was Industry Americus Collins. [Jenny Kleeman, The Guardian, May 25, 2024.]

This was now beginning to sound more like Orwell’s 1984.

And I thought Elon Musk and a few show biz stars were the only ones who cursed their kids with names that will plague them throughout their lives . . . or until they’re old enough to have them legally changed.

I’m fairly certain (or at least I hope) that not all Pronatalists are cruel to their children. But they do share the basic belief that — as stated by Elon Musk on X — “Population collapse due to low birth rates is a much bigger risk to civilization than global warming.” [Id.] They’re afraid that, with the growth of the aging population, there won’t be enough younger people to support their elders, or to keep the world running as the older folks retire and ultimately pass on.

What does not seem to be taken into consideration is that birth rates are not declining across the board; in some countries, including much of Africa, populations are expanding at troublesome rates. Shouldn’t we work on that as well? And although the Pronatalist advocates do propose financial assistance and other programs to support families with multiple children in the lower-birth-rate countries, I have yet to see an explanation of how those governments are expected to cover the added costs. Those droves of additional children aren’t going to be pumping tax dollars into the national budget for a good many years. And their parents don’t all have the resources of Elon Musk. (In fact, neither do some countries!)

*. *. *

I did warn you that it was complicated, and . . . what’s the word? . . . unusual. In the interests of time and space, I’ll leave you to check out the cited articles for further details, if you think your psyche can handle it. But while we’re trying to figure out the pros and cons of this (quite literally) growing movement, keep in mind that Elon Musk and his like-minded friends are busily cranking out duplicates, and triplicates, and quadruplicates of themselves.

Quelle nightmare!

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/16/24