No, I’m not talking about the one coming up in the U.S. in November . . . although, considering the likely outcome of the party conventions that haven’t even been held yet, it might not be a bad thing if no one showed up. Not bad at all.

But I try to avoid discussions of domestic politics. Quite frankly, I don’t need the drama — and certainly not the anger — that almost inevitably results when certain key words are mentioned: words such as “republican,” “democrat,” “liberal,” “conservative,” “Trump,” “whacko,” “treason” . . . Oh, crap! See what I mean?

Full stop. U-turn. Deep breath.

Okay, good.

*. *. *

So what election am I talking about? Why, the one they just held over the course of three days in the Wonderful Land of Oz, more commonly known as Russia. The one that was a total waste of everyone’s time and money because there really was only one possible outcome. Because that’s what happens when there’s only one viable candidate, who has already disqualified, arrested, or bumped off any possible competition. It’s what happens when you live in an autocracy . . . a dictatorship . . . an Evil Empire.

When you live in the Russia of 2024 A.D.: Vladimir Putin’s Russia.

The world is all too familiar with the methods of this man who has sat in the Kremlin for more than two decades, plotting, scheming, manipulating every aspect of Russian governmental and civilian life, down to the most minute detail. Just take this month’s election as an example.

We already know how he eliminated all of his potential opponents. One — Boris Nadezhdin — campaigned hard and was able to gather more than the required number of signatures to his application for candidacy. But the Central Election Commission disqualified enough of those signatures — for specious, unproven reasons — to knock Nadezhdin off the ballot.

As for the dissidents who have gained a broad following in recent years, he simply charged them with newly made-up crimes and threw them into prison, or frightened them into exile. And one who would not be silenced, even from prison — Alexei Navalny — died mysteriously just four weeks before the election.

But even that wasn’t enough. Putin knew the election was a wrap. But his image had been tarnished by the opposition over the past few years, and he needed to polish it to a more respectable luster; he needed to be able to claim a victory by a massive majority. And there was the additional problem of a population drain over the past two years, when hundreds of thousands of citizens — mostly young men — fled the country to avoid the military draft. So he needed a plan to salvage his image.

I wondered, briefly, whether he might dare to take a page from Nikolai Gogol’s fictional masterpiece Dead Souls, wherein owners of serfs neglected to report those who died in order to continue claiming government subsidies. But no . . . even that wasn’t clever enough for Vladimir Putin. He went one better. He found a whole new source of living voters.

In Ukraine.

Yes, that Ukraine . . . the one that Putin himself invaded in February of 2022, in what he called a defensive “Special Military Operation.” The Ukraine that he has bombed, and shelled, and mined . . . whose people he has shot, tortured, raped, and kidnapped . . . whose civilian infrastructure he has demolished in every area he has managed to “defend.” That Ukraine.

Because in Putin’s demented, narcissistic mind, he is now ruler of those areas: Crimea, and parts of Luhansk, Donetsk, Zaporizhzhia and Kherson Oblasts. And the people still living in those regions are now Russian citizens . . . his subjects. They have been issued Russian passports. And so, they must vote.

And to make sure they vote for him, his enforcers are escorting people to the polling places, or carrying ballot boxes directly to their homes. There is no way to refuse.

And that, my friends, is how you win an election with a purported 87% share of the vote. If you live in Vladimir Putin’s Russia, that is.

*. *. *

Then I asked myself: What if they had held the election and no one showed up? Or not enough people to constitute a proper vote? What would they have done? Who would have become president? Would they have had to call for another, immediate vote? Or would Putin simply have declared himself the winner by default?

Yeah, probably that. But imagine the shock, and the confusion at first. Wouldn’t it have been fun to watch? And what about Putin’s legitimacy as president in the eyes of the rest of the world? As if he would care, or ever has. But still . . . it’s amusing to contemplate.

Now, about November 5th . . .

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/19/24

Someone said that to me recently, in a way that sounded dismissive, as though I no longer counted for much . . . or anything at all. “You’re old.” And it struck a nerve.

I knew it wasn’t meant to hurt; it was merely a statement of fact in the context of a broader conversation. But I was hearing that at my age I should no longer expect certain things from the world, like the best medical care (I hope I never need an organ transplant), or concern for every little symptom (when you’re old, stuff just happens), or having a social life (everyone else always seems to be so damned busy). And that I should be content to sit quietly and watch the pages of the calendar fly off into space, ever faster, no longer having any meaning at all to me. No more adventures, no accomplishments, no pleasures. Just old age.

I have some disabilities, mostly in terms of limited mobility, from lots of orthopedic surgery in the past and the inevitable arthritis. I am able to walk, but only with a rollator (a fancy walker with wheels and a seat). I can take personal care of myself — I don’t need anyone to help me bathe, dress, get something simple to eat. And my mental synapses are still firing. But going places other than to medical or dental appointments has become difficult because not every place is rollator-friendly where I live. And having left Washington, D.C. to live with family outside of Savannah, Georgia, there is less to do here in any event.

And on top of all of that, today is my birthday. Again. How quickly they seem to roll around now. This is number 85 — an unfathomable, not-so-long-ago-inconceivable number that seems rightfully to belong to a much earlier generation, not to me. It lends credence to that accidental comment: “You’re old.”

*. *. *

But if we look hard enough, we can usually find that silver lining people are always talking about. And mine is this: I made it to 85. And that is a real accomplishment, because I have been holding my breath for the past 366 days (this was a leap year, remember). You see, both my mother and my sister passed away at the age of 84: mother at 84 years, 6 months and 17 days, and sister at 84 years, 1 month and 6 days. And yes, I’ve been counting. Because I’ve been determined to break that little family curse, as I called it, and now I’ve done it. Hooray! My personal doomsday clock malfunctioned.

So . . . what’s next? Should I just sit here, silently counting the days to 86? Nah. With any luck, I won’t get seriously ill, and I’ll be able to continue tapping away at my computer, writing things I hope someone will want to read. Or with even better luck, maybe I’ll hit the lottery and book that round-the-world cruise to take me to all the places I haven’t seen yet. And I’ll worry about everything else when I get back.

I may be old . . . but I’m not done yet.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/18/24

It was just an errant breeze across St. Peter’s Square that lifted the Pope’s cap into the air above the Vatican today, and not a mischievous magpie or an impish angel playing frisbee with the convenient circular beanie. And certainly not a geographically-challenged dybbuk mistaking the Pontiff’s cap for a Rabbi’s yarmulke, although the resemblance is undeniable.

The perfectly timed photograph, courtesy of Andrew Medichini of Associated Press, showed up in this morning’s CNN’s 5 Things, providing me with my first laugh on this mild St. Patrick’s Day. It’s so unexpected, so spontaneous, so adorably human . . . and I just had to share it.

Happy Sunday, all.

Brendochka
3/17/24

It’s St. Patrick’s Day again, as if you needed reminding . . . as if all of the parades, people dressed in varying shades of green, paper shamrocks pasted up everywhere, vile-looking green beer being chugged by people who normally hate beer, and children decked out as leprechauns hadn’t already tipped you off.

Have you ever wondered what all the hoopla is about? Who was St. Patrick anyway, and why is he celebrated in such a boisterous manner every year? Well, I have, and I’m about to share my discovery with you. Yay!

Briefly, Saint Patrick (Irish: Padraig) was a fifth-century Romano-British Christian missionary and Bishop in Ireland. Known as the “Apostle of Ireland,” he is the primary patron saint of that country. Although he was never formally canonized — having lived before the current laws of the Catholic Church were established in such matters — he is venerated as a saint in the Catholic Church, the Lutheran Church, the Church of Ireland, and the Eastern Orthodox Church.

Well, that’s all very interesting. But there are a lot of saints out there — patrons and otherwise — who are worshipped, for various reasons, by a lot of people around the world. Why has this one continued to capture everyone’s attention, and in such a jolly way?

First of all, March 17th marks Padraig’s death, not his birth, in the year 461 in Saul, County Down, Ireland. In fact, he wasn’t born in Ireland at all; he was thought to have come from either Wales or Scotland, to spread the word of Christianity. In Ireland, the holiday has been a more religious one, commemorating the life and death of a revered patron saint.

And just as a bit of trivia, it is said that St. Patrick utilized the very plentiful shamrock as a metaphor for the Christian Holy Trinity. Today it is said to symbolize faith, hope and love.

The first St. Patrick’s Day parade actually took place way back in 1737 in the United States, in Boston, Massachusetts (a city with a large Irish population even today) — a tribute dreamed up by early Irish immigrants in their adopted country. The first parade in Ireland wasn’t held until 1903, in the city of Waterford (land of beautiful, expensive crystal).

So the partying aspect of the holiday — which shouldn’t surprise anyone — can be laid firmly at the feet of the fun-loving population of the United States. Although started by the Irish settlers, everyone loves a good party, and it didn’t take long for the rest — French, Italian, Swedish, Chinese, whatever — to jump on the big green bandwagon and join in the frolic.

In other words, St. Patrick’s Day is basically an excuse to PARTA-A-AY!!

And why not? In a world full of grim headlines, we all need a break now and then, and any excuse will do. So put an O’ before your name, don everything you own that’s green, grab your best friends, and appoint a designated driver. It’s all in good fun.

*. *. *

But before you go, may I offer you the following:

Lovely people, the Irish.

Just sayin’ . . .
O’Brendochka
3/17/24

Well, let’s see now: Thursday, March 14th was Pi Day (celebrating 3.14159, and so on, and so on, and so on, ad infinitum); Friday the 15th commemorated the Ides of March (made famous by the assassination of Julius Caesar on that date in 44 B.C.E.); and tomorrow, March 17th, will be St. Patrick’s Day, when everyone can claim to be Irish, eat corned beef and cabbage, drink too much green beer, and spew green vomit all over the bathroom on the 18th. (Which happens to be my birthday, but it is not generally celebrated worldwide, and I plan to stay away from the Roman Forum in case Brutus and his buddies are out in search of another victim. So, not a holiday on the 18th.)

But what about today, stuck between the Ides and the Irish? Except for the fact that it has to be somebody’s birthday somewhere, it’s a nothing kind of day. So let’s see if we can liven things up with a bit of more-or-less interesting trivia from some March 16ths in history.

On March 16, 1802, the U.S. Congress established the United States Military Academy at West Point, New York, on the banks of the scenic Hudson River. But this almost didn’t happen. During the Revolutionary War period, a fort was built at West Point to protect the Hudson River Valley from British attack. In 1780, American Patriot General Benedict Arnold (remember him?) was commander of the fort — a job that apparently didn’t pay very well. Because for the sum of 6,000 British pounds (about U.S. $135,000 today), Arnold had agreed to surrender the fort to the British enemy. Fortunately, the plot was uncovered, and Arnold did a runner to the British side, thus firmly embedding his name in American parlance as a synonym for “traitor.”

*. *. *

On this date in 2008, investment banking giant Bear Stearns took a nosedive and was sold to J.P. Morgan Chase for $2 per share. In typical dominoes fashion, all hell broke loose and we soon found ourselves in the great recession of 2008. Not such a happy memory.

*. *. *

On March 16, 1968, an event occurred in Son Tinh District, South Vietnam, that marked one of the darkest days in the history of the United States Military. In what became known as the My Lai Massacre, between 347 and 504 civilians — men, women, children, and infants — were slaughtered by U.S. Army personnel in what was the largest known massacre of civilians by U.S. forces in the 20th Century. Something we’d all like to forget, but shouldn’t, lest it happen again.

*. *. *

On March 16, 1960, Alfred Hitchcock’s movie Psycho premiered . . . and people throughout the U.S. stopped showering alone for a very long time.

*. *. *

In 1912 on this date, future FLOTUS (First Lady of the United States) Thelma Catherine Ryan was born in Ely, Nevada. Nicknamed “Pat,” she grew up to become the devoted wife of Richard M. Nixon . . . and we all know what happened to him. So, another hopeful beginning on a March 16th in history, with a not-so-happy ending.

*. *. *

In fact, most of what makes the news, and the history books, seems to be the bad stuff. As I have remarked numerous times in the past . . . if it ain’t bad, it ain’t news.

So here’s looking forward to a festive St. Paddy’s day tomorrow, and all the green beer you can handle.

TTFN,
Brendochka
3/16/24

If only Julius Caesar had listened to the Soothsayer in Act I . . . But then there would have been no slaying in the Forum, and Marc Antony would never have delivered that famous speech at Caesar’s funeral. And there would be one less play by Shakespeare with which to torture all of today’s high school students.

*. *. *

But what have the Ides of March meant to us in the 20th and 21st Centuries? Well, in the United States, it used to be income tax filing day, until 1954, when it was moved to April 15th.

To some, preparing and filing those tax returns is nearly as unpleasant as the prospect of being stabbed to death by a group of people you thought were your colleagues and friends. So you might see how remembrance of the Ides of March could be an issue.

But today, there are far better ways to pay homage to this oddly-remembered day. It is, for example, the birthday of a number of more-or-less-famous individuals: actors Eva Longoria (49 this year) and Judd Hirsch (89); Bret Michaels (61); Fabio (65 – remember him?); Lindsay Lohan (38); President Andrew Jackson (born March 15, 1767, too old to calculate); and the sorely-missed Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who would have celebrated her 91st birthday this week. So, happy birthday to this varied group of celebrants.

*. *. *

And for the rest of us, there is a surprisingly large number of holidays assigned to March 15th. So get out the cake and ice cream, blow up a few balloons, and let’s party, because it’s . . .

. . . Red Nose Day, just for the fun of it. Well, not “just,” but also for charity. It’s celebrated in the UK as well as the USA, and supported by many comedians and other celebrities for the benefit of various charities worldwide. So feel free to be a clown for a day, and do some good while you’re at it.

*. *. *

. . . World Sleep Day. Believe it or not, this internationally-recognized day is celebrated on the Friday before the Vernal Equinox each year to focus on sleep-related problems. It is suggested that one might choose to celebrate the day by taking a nap. Oh, yeah . . . this is my kind of holiday! Zzzzz-z-z-z . . .

*. *. *

. . . True Confessions Day. I’ll pass on this one; it just sounds like trouble in the making, doesn’t it?

*. *. *

. . . Look On the Bright Side Day. This sounds great, but after reading through the day’s news reports, looking on the bright side can be really difficult. So you go ahead without me; I’ll try to catch up after my nap.

*. *. *

And one that was clearly not designed for me, but is perfect for a lot of people I know who only think they’re smarter than I am:

. . . It’s called EverythingYouThinkIsWrongDay. At first glance, I was hoping this would be a day when I could tell the world everything I think is wrong with it and with the people in it. It would have been a long laundry list. But as it turns out — sadly and yet appropriately — I was wrong.

Instead, my research tells me that this is “a day where decision-making should be avoided, as your thoughts are (according to the founder of this holiday) wrong.” Or, at the very least, not always right. And this is how we are encouraged to observe the day:

“While you might think it would be ok to point out how wrong others’ thoughts are, you’d still be wrong. You’d still be wrong for thinking that. However, it would be a good day to scroll on by all those Twitter comments that annoy you. Of course, if you’re wrong on this holiday, take solace in the thought that so is the person to the right and left of you. Then again, you’d still be wrong, according to the name of the day. Share your thoughts and let us know just how wrong you think you are using #EverythingYouThinkIsWrongDay to post on social media.”

I’m definitely not going to do that. But I might recommend it to a few presidential front-runners in the U.S., Russia, and a couple of other countries, who seem to get it wrong all the time . . . every . . . freakin’ . . . day.

*. *. *

So choose your holiday, celebrate in your own way, and if you’re bummed by the fact that you’re wrong about everything, remember that it’s only for today. You’ll be all right again tomorrow.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/15/24

. . . Now they — the Russian hit squad — have gone outside their borders to attack one of Navalny’s team, Leonid Volkov, in front of his home in Vilnius, Lithuania, where he has been living in exile for several years. Like others of Alexei Navalny’s team, he faces multiple politically-based charges in Russia and cannot return to his homeland.

On Tuesday evening, March 12th, Volkov had just arrived at his home in Vilnius when someone shattered a window of his car and viciously attacked him. According to reports of the incident, Volkov said that the attack took place “in silence.” Kira Yarmysh, spokesperson for Navalny’s Anti-Corruption Foundation (FBK), issued the following statement on social media:

“Leonid Volkov has just been attacked outside his house. Someone broke a car window and sprayed tear gas in his eyes, after which the attacker started hitting Leonid with a hammer.” Ivan Zhdanov, director of the FBK, added that “they hit his legs with a hammer and hit his arms.” Volkov was taken to a hospital, where he was treated for his injuries. [Darya Tarasova and Tara John, CNN, March 13, 2024.]

Volkov’s wife, Anna Biryukova — also part of the Navalny team — said that her husband returned home from the hospital the following day with a broken arm and unable to walk because of the hammer blows to his leg. With absolute certainty that the attack was the work of Vladimir Putin’s hit squad, she said, “We will all work even more. And with even greater anger.” [Sarah Rainsford, BBC Europe, March 13, 2024.]

Lithuanian intelligence has said the attack was “Russian-organised and implemented.” Volkov has concurred, stating that it was “an obvious, typical, gangster greeting from Putin, from bandits St. Petersburg.” [Id.]

Lithuanian President Gitanas Nauseda said the attack on Volkov was clearly pre-planned, and that it was tied to other provocations against Lithuania, a country that is a member of both NATO and the European Union. He sent the following additional message: “I can only say one thing to Putin – nobody is afraid of you here.” [Andrius Sytas, Reuters, March 13, 2024.] And Foreign Minister Gabrielius Landsbergis added that “the perpetrators will have to answer for their crime.” [BBC Europe, March 13, 2024.]

*. *. *

There is little doubt that the attack, coming just three days before the start of the Russian presidential election, was intended to reinforce Putin’s ongoing threats against those who dare to challenge his absolute authority, and to remind those living in the relative safety of countries outside Russia — even member nations of NATO and the EU — that there is no escape from the long reach of his thugs and killers. Despite the obvious outcome of the election, he will broach no opposition.

And this is the man who will rule Russia with an iron hand for six — and perhaps twelve — more years, in accordance with his own amendments to the Russian Constitution. A man without conscience or concern for human life. The same man who has declared war against Ukraine in order to reclaim it as Russian territory; threatened the use of nuclear weapons if — in his words — Russia’s sovereign territory is threatened; and simply killed off those who have been most vocal in opposing him.

For 30 years, the future looked promising for the people of Russia. They enjoyed freedoms and opportunities unknown to previous generations. But now, that same future can only be described as bleak. It makes me sick, and afraid — not only for the Russian people, but for the countries that are next on Putin’s bucket list of conquests. It cannot be permitted to continue . . . but how to stop it?

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/14/24

While Vladimir Putin declares Russia’s so-called democracy to be the best in the world, and social media are blasted with festive promos of the beauty of his country and its supposedly happy people, the state of its true condition has been further revealed this week by way of warnings from the U.S. and other Western embassies to stay away from Russia . . . or if you’re already there, to get the hell out. Like . . . NOW!

First came a report from Russia’s Federal Security Service (FSB) that it had foiled a planned attack on a Moscow synagogue by “a cell of the militant Sunni Muslim group Islamic State.” [Guy Faulconbridge, Reuters, March 8, 2024.]

Just hours later, the U.S. Embassy in Moscow released a warning that “extremists” had imminent plans for an attack in Moscow. No further details were given, but the notice did specify that people should avoid concerts and crowds of all types: “The Embassy is monitoring reports that extremists have imminent plans to target large gatherings in Moscow, to include concerts, and U.S. citizens should be advised to avoid large gatherings over the next 48 hours.” [Id.] The warning was repeated by the U.K., Canada, South Korea and Latvia, with advice to their citizens not to travel to Russia. It was not clear whether this warning referred to the same planned, and allegedly foiled, attack on a synagogue. In any event, there has not yet been a report of any sort of terrorist attack, in Moscow or elsewhere in the country.

*. *. *

It’s no secret — although the Kremlin continues to cloak the situation in lies and artifice — that life in Russia today is receding, almost on a daily basis, into the darkness of the Stalinist era. Strangely and frighteningly, those who appear not to be opposed to this “back to the future” scenario are the very people — the older generation — who remember having lived through those days. But perhaps not so strangely, as they tend to recall those times as the days of stability and a form of security, when the misery of Soviet life was spread evenly among the masses.

The younger people today have had a different life experience — one of choices, opportunities, freedoms unimagined by their parents and grandparents. And they revel in it. They are the Russian citizens who brave the possibility of arrest and imprisonment in order to oppose Vladimir Putin’s despotic rule. But are they succeeding? It appears, not yet. Alexei Navalny has been killed, and there is no immediate successor to his charismatic, proselytizing style of leadership. Boris Nadezhdin, who had built a sizable base in his attempt to run against Putin in the upcoming presidential election, has — unsurprisingly — been stricken from the ballot on specious grounds. Others have been imprisoned, or have fled the country in fear for their lives.

It didn’t take a threat by an Islamist terror group to send Russia into a downward spiral of fear and paranoia; that was just the icing on the cake. It was, however, enough to keep the crowds away from Red Square and other popular gathering places for a few days, and to bring out the security forces in ever-larger numbers.

*. *. *

I miss being able to visit “my” Russia of the 1990s. Would I go back today, given the opportunity? Hell, no! I am neither stupid nor suicidal. I am, however, profoundly saddened for the good people of Russia — for the friends I left behind there, and those I’ll never know — who have once again, as has so often happened throughout their history, had the proverbial rug pulled out from under their feet. Dark days, indeed.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/13/24

Nothing serious: just the second shingles vaccine in the left arm, updated Covid in the right. I’m a big believer in the efficacy of vaccines, especially for people at high risk for whatever reason. In my case, it’s age (how I’ve gotten to hate that word!) and a couple of medical conditions that don’t bother me from day to day but I’m told could be a problem if I were to catch certain viruses. So I dutifully show up for a flu shot every September, and make sure everything else is up-to-date as needed.

Luckily, I’m one of those people who don’t react badly to any of the regular vaccines . . . or at least I haven’t so far. But that Covid stuff is different: it drags me down and knocks me out for a couple of days.

I guess what I’m trying to tell you, after all of this drug-induced rambling, is that I’m too tired to write today, or even to think clearly. The shots, on top of the Daylight Savings nonsense, are stronger than I am. So . . .

Good night, dear readers . . . I’m off in search of that hour I lost Saturday night, and hopefully a little more. See you when I wake.

Brendochka
3/12/24

While Vladimir Putin’s HOSTAGES continue to languish in the hell of Russia’s modern-day GULAG, arrests are still being made of citizens who have done nothing more than express their sorrow and outrage at the death of Alexei Navalny. Those citizens were identified by CCTV facial recognition cameras outside the church and the cemetery on the day of his funeral, or while laying flowers at makeshift memorials to a man who dared to be a thorn in Putin’s side.

While their punishments appear to have been mild, they are clearly meant to intimidate the entire population of the country, and to remind them that fascism has indeed returned to today’s Russia. The man in the Kremlin, who has ruled for nearly 24 years and is about to be reelected for yet another six-year term, is a man without scruples, without conscience, and without concern as to the opinions of the rest of the world. The killing of Alexei Navalny, occurring despite the ongoing international outcry against his imprisonment, was a clear signal that no one is safe from the wrath of Vladimir Putin.

So I once more urge you not to forget or forsake those men and women being held HOSTAGE by the Russian government, who have done no more than speak out against the dictatorial, fascist regime of Vladimir Putin. While they have been forced into silence, we have not.

We must continue to use our voices for them.

Please . . . bring them home!

Brendochka
3/11/24