Ksenia Karelina, age 33 — Russian-born, and a U.S. citizen since 2021 — has been arrested on charges of “high treason” while visiting her parents in Yekaterinburg, Russia. She has been specifically accused of “collecting funds used to purchase tactical medical items, equipment, means of destruction and ammunition” for Ukraine. [Cameron Henderson, The Telegraph, Feb. 20, 2024.] In fact, she reportedly donated $50 to a New York-based, non-profit human rights organization collecting funds for the Ukrainian Army. She is also accused of having participated in events in the United States in support of Ukraine. This is what passes for “high treason” in Vladimir Putin’s Russia.
What a cute idea: a robotic, suitcase-sized warming oven on wheels to deliver hot meals anywhere, any time (it even sees in the dark). It also senses obstacles, including people and animals, and somehow manages to navigate city streets without getting itself (or anyone else, hopefully) smashed to pieces.
There’s just one problem: It’s a Russkiy Robot. And it’s in Moscow. (Okay, that’s two problems.)
I call it “Eager Igor.” The writing on top says “I’m bringing food.” Cute.
Have you ever been in Moscow? I have. It’s enormous, covering over 400 square miles, with a population of around 13 million (possibly not taking into account the hundreds of thousands who have recently fled to avoid being sent off to fight in Ukraine). And it’s a rabbit warren of avenues, prospects, small and large streets, plazas, lanes, pereuloks, all dotted with circles and squares that are anything but circular or square.
And during the months that I lived there in 1993, I never did figure out how anyone was able to find a particular address, since at the time there was no logic to the numbering of the buildings, and very few places actually had the building numbers shown on the exterior in any event — maybe to confuse foreign invaders. If so, it worked. If I hadn’t had a driver and access to taxis, I’d have been totally lost.
Add to that the miserable condition of so many of the streets and sidewalks, plus the Russian winter, and you’ve got . . . well, I haven’t seen them, but I’m imagining some pretty confused little ‘bots.
Now, as for this delivery service itself, reviews have been mixed, which is not surprising. The concept of service in Russia in general is still somewhat sketchy; and factoring in all the logistical issues, how long would it take to receive an order? And how does a robot ring a bell to gain entrance to a building, or speak to the customer inside to let them know their delivery has arrived? How does it open a door? How does it navigate stairs in a building without an elevator? How does it accept a cash tip? A GPS will take you as far as the entrance, but after that, you’re pretty much on your own. A delivery person can wing it; I don’t think “winging” has been programmed into a robot as yet. Which means that all the leg work — coming downstairs to open the door and accept the delivery — has to be done by the customer, presumably after receiving an alert on their iPhone. Still, it’s better than having to go out to Pizza Hut in all kinds of weather.
There must be a market for these cute little R2-D2 knockoffs if no less than Grubhub entered into an agreement with Yandex back in 2021 for use of their little suitcase cuties to deliver meals to students on U.S. college campuses, beginning with Ohio State University. And then Russia invaded Ukraine in February of 2022, and Grubhub — along with a plethora of other Western businesses — pulled out of Russia. And Ohio State’s students lost their little mechanical friends . . . at the same time the Russians lost their Pizza Huts.
Ah, the joys of doing business with one of the most unreliable countries in the world.
*. *. *
But once I stopped ooh-ing and aah-ing over its cuteness, I had another thought about this little Russian marvel . . . I wondered whether, being Russian, it might have a second, hidden agenda. It is, after all, an electronic gizmo. In many ways, it reminds me of R2-D2, who was very, very smart. I assume little “Igor” is also pretty clever . . . as long as someone remembers to plug him in to recharge every night.
And on the assumption that his AI-created brain lives up to the Russian hype, what else might he be capable of handling? After all, food delivery is — on a 1-10 scale — pretty much a 3rd- or 4th-level career. And considering what it must have cost to develop this little electronic marvel, I can’t imagine that his creators wouldn’t have had bigger plans for him.
“Such as . . . ?” I hear you asking.
Well, such as capturing customers’ personal information: names, addresses, and those all-important credit card numbers, for a wide variety of devious (and presumably profitable) purposes. You know . . . identity theft.
Or snapping photos and recording conversations of Russian citizens in compromising situations, or . . . worst of all offenses! . . . criticizing the government, the military, or calling the “special military operation” a “war.” Wouldn’t the Igors be the cutest little stool pigeons!
Or somehow planting incriminating evidence at pre-determined spots. I’m guessing “entrapment” is not a forbidden concept under the Russian judicial system.
Or even . . . No! I can’t finish that thought. Don’t ask.
*. *. *
“Impossible?” “Science fiction?” Perhaps. But I wonder what Alexei Navalny, Aleksandr Litvinenko, Sergei Skripal and Vladimir Kara-Murza would think?
As the family and friends of Alexei Navalny continue to press the Russian government for the return of his body, and the Russian officials continue to stall (thus giving them time to cover any traces of their own guilt in connection with his sudden death), it is vitally important that we not overlook those other HOSTAGES being held in various prisons and penal colonies across Russia.
And the one who appears to be at the most imminent risk is Vladimir Kara-Murza, whose wife Evgenia temporarily lost track of him at the end of January when she was told that he had left the “strict regime” penal colony in Omsk, Siberia, where he had been held since last September. While ominously reminiscent of the earlier experience of Alexei Navalny, who had gone missing for three weeks before resurfacing in one of the worst of Russia’s Siberian prisons, it was soon learned that Kara-Murza was simply moved to another prison in the same region of Omsk.
Vladimir Kara-Murza, Dual Russian/British: HOSTAGE (Penal Colony ??)
In a letter from Kara-Murza to his attorneys, he said that this action was taken as “punishment for not standing up when told to ‘rise’ by a guard,” and that the guards had considered this a “malicious violation” of prison rules. He added, “Everything is okay with me – I’m clothed, shod, fed and warm, the people here are all fine.” Yet he also stated that he had been sent to an isolated cell, and had been told he might be moved back in four months. [Patrick Jackson, BBC News, Jan. 30, 2024.]
Keep in mind that — like the late Alexei Navalny — Vladimir Kara-Murza has serious health problems, some of which are the direct or indirect result of two earlier attempted poisonings. Conditions in a Siberian penal colony can only exacerbate those problems. I hate to think that this is a case of “deja vu all over again.”
So I urge you once more: Do not 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.
Here’s an interesting headline from Beatrice Nolan of Business Insider on February 14th:
“Elon Musk says the US should stop sending aid to Ukraine as there’s ‘no way in hell’ Putin will lose.”
Omigod! When will Musk learn to keep out of politics and keep his big yap shut? Stick to what you know, you lunatic, and leave the ruination of the world to the experts.
What’s he done this time? Oh, not much . . . only given Russia the nicest, biggest Valentine he could think of, saying that Ukraine can’t possibly win this war and they should just hand over chunks of their country to Russia. Don’t negotiate . . . capitulate. The very thing that Musk the billionaire businessman would never, ever do.
And since he feels a Russian victory is inevitable, we — the U.S., and presumably the rest of the Western allies — should save our money, thus creating a self-fulfilling prophecy by hastening the end of the conflict, leaving Ukraine dangling in the wind. On the plus side, he also points out that we would be saving a bunch of lives in the bargain.
Okay, saving lives is good; and saving money sounds good . . . depending on what you’re sacrificing in exchange, which in this case is not much: just the sovereignty of an entire nation, along with its freedoms, its amazing history, and its very identity. Not to mention the reputations and consciences of the allied countries that will have allowed it to die.
Elon Musk’s Plan for Ukraine
Now, Musk says that he is NOT an apologist for Putin; that such an accusation is absurd; and that “his companies have done more to undermine Russia than anyone.” [Business Insider, Feb. 14, 2024.] Oh, really? How? By lobbying for cessation of funding to Ukraine? By urging Ukraine to give in to Russia’s claims of sovereignty over large portions of historically Ukrainian territory? Or by worrying that “Putin risk[s] being ‘assassinated’ if he were to back off the fight in Ukraine”? [Id.]
He couldn’t be more of an apologist for Putin if he were a parrot perched on that evil little man’s shoulder.
Ironically, if the tables were turned — if Musk were a Russian citizen urging Russia to withdraw from Ukraine and accept defeat — he would find himself in a Siberian prison so fast his head would never stop spinning. Yet that is the side he chooses to defend . . . the side that he hopes will win this war of attrition that they started . . . the side that just murdered Alexei Navalny for expressing those very opinions.
Elon Musk may be the richest man in the United States and the second richest in the world; he may be a technological and entrepreneurial genius; he may be a gaming wiz without equal. But he apparently knows little or nothing of Russian history in general or Vladimir Putin in particular. And he seems to me to be treading dangerously close to the line of treason when he opens his mouth and spews the sort of garbage that could be construed by some as “adhering to [our] Enemies, giving them Aid and Comfort.” [Article III, Section 3, Clause 1, Constitutionof the United States.]
What a dreadful time this is! Yesterday brought news that Vladimir Putin’s No. 1 political hostage — Alexei Navalny — had died while imprisoned in Russian penal colony IK-3 in Siberia. And the world groaned, and wept, and cursed the man who put him there to die.
Alexei Navalny: GONE
For make no mistake . . . that was the intention from the very beginning, when he was poisoned (but unexpectedly survived), then arrested and imprisoned again, then sent off to the frozen wasteland inside the Arctic Circle where no one from the outside could see how it really happened.
And now — while Putin smirks and disingenuously claims that he can’t keep track of every single prisoner across Russia — we wait to learn whether the United Nations’ request for an independent investigation will be honored, and when, or if, Alexei Navalny’s family will be allowed to receive his body for proper burial.
And while we wait, we also wonder: Is there anyone, inside or outside of Russia, willing and able to step into the shoes of this courageous and able man? For surely he was unique, and possibly irreplaceable. And Putin’s “win” will be, as always, Russia’s loss.
Who can take his place?
But in our grief, we must not forget the other brave men and women who languish in Russian prisons for allegedly having broken one of Putin’s tyrannical new laws by speaking against the regime, or simply calling a war a war. They must be brought home before even one more is lost. Their families need them, and the world needs them.
It was the worst possible way of waking up this morning. My first move every day is to reach for my phone to check the news headlines for anything momentous that may have occurred while I slept. And there it was — the thing that I, along with much of the rest of the world, have been dreading for so long: Alexei Navalny was dead.
I have written a great deal about him: his nearly miraculous survival of poisoning by Putin’s KGB; his imprisonment on specious charges of “corruption,” “embezzlement,” and “parole violation”; his disappearance from one prison, prompting an entire series titled “Where Is Alexei Navalny?” And then, his reappearance in a maximum-isolation penal colony 40 miles above the Arctic Circle, his few-and-far-between appearances there, his visibly failing health, and now . . . this.
This was a man who gave his all for a single, unselfish cause: the freedom of his country from tyranny and fascism. Intelligent, handsome, charismatic, serious, witty, focused, driven, courageous, and yes, even noble . . . he was unbeatable even under the harshest conditions. And so he has been beaten, finally, in the only way the Putin regime knows how to win: by killing. Perhaps there was no bullet in the back, or ice axe to his skull, or airplane dropping from the sky; but starvation, withdrawal of medical treatment, and isolation are just as effective, if only slower. And they don’t leave marks. Not externally, at any rate.
But will Vladimir Putin’s fixation on ridding himself of this “nuisance” prove to be a huge blunder after all? World reaction has been that of unanimous condemnation and horror. The United Nations has called for an independent investigation. Navalny’s body must be produced for examination and proper burial.
And after all of that . . . what? There are others — Vladimir Kara-Murza, Alsu Kurmasheva, Ksenia Fadeyeva, Lilia Chanysheva, Vadim Ostanin, Sergei Udaltsov, to name a few — who have tried. All are in prison now. Boris Nadezhdin has made a symbolic attempt to run against Putin in next month’s election; he has been eliminated by the Election Commission and twice turned down on appeal to the Russian Supreme Court. What the future holds for him is questionable.
But Navalny’s people — his family in Russia, and his team, most now in exile across Europe — should never let the world forget. Never let Putin forget! Martyrdom is a powerful force, not to be used frivolously. But perhaps now is the right time . . . time to turn the murderer’s own weapon against him.
Do not let this noble man’s death be for naught. To his people, I say: Please, take the baton from him and continue carrying it in his name, for the sake of the good people of Russia and of the free world. Isn’t that what he would want?
There are all sorts of alphabet games, from “I spy with my little eye” to “A, my name is Alice” — games remembered from childhood when our amusements were simple . . . and free. No electronics needed.
But now I’ve found a new use for the alphabet game, during these days of misery following my dental surgery: killing time between doses of pain medication — especially that one I can’t take until 5:30 a.m., when I’ve been awake since 3:30. So it goes something like this:
“A” is for Agony: “De agony of de face.” That’s pretty self-explanatory.
“B” is for Bloody: Not any more, but it was pretty icky for a day there.
“C” is for Chew: Which is wish I could do, but not for a while yet.
“D” is for Dopey: From too much sleepus interruptus.
“E” is for Expensive: Which this whole thing has been. Very, very expensive. (See “I” for Insurance.)
“F” is for Fun: Which it most assuredly is NOT.
“G” is for Glad: That it’s going to be behind me one of these days. Soon, I hope.
“H” is for Heal: And for Hurry. Hurry up and Heal!
“I” is for Insurance: Don’t get me started. They approved the whole procedure at 80%, then at the last minute changed it to 50%. Crooks! Thieves! Charlatans! Bastards! Is that even legal? I’m looking into it.
“J” is for Judas: That would be the insurance company. Betrayers!
Judas Iscariot
“K” is for Kill: What I’d like to do to the insurance company if it were even possible . . . and legal . . . and moral. Oh, well . . .
“L” is for Laugh: Because that’s what you do when the only alternative is to cry.
“M” is for Money: The insurance thing again. I really need to get past that.
“N” is for Novocaine: And thank God for it! What did people do back in the days before anesthesia, pain killers, and such? No wonder they died so young — it was preferable to some of the treatments they would have needed to keep them alive.
“O” is for Ouch: Post-surgical Ouch.
“P” is for Pretty: Which I most definitely am not at the moment. Will be again, I hope . . . one day. Maybe in my next life.
“Q” is for Question: Why did I start this in the first place?
“R” is for Roto-Rooter: Which is what dentists always remind me of.
“S” is for Sinus: Because that’s where the surgeon found an infection that had either gone from a tooth to the sinus cavity, or vice-versa; I don’t know which. And it really doesn’t matter. But that was an extra 15 minutes or so of additional groping around in my mouth, plus another week of antibiotics. Fun, fun, fun.
“T” is for T-bone steak: Just because I’m sick of liquids and yogurt and soup, oh my! I just want to chomp down on something (like the president of that *#$%&#* insurance company). Or a nice juicy steak, an ear of corn, or a Honey Crisp apple.
“U” is for “Up to here”: Which is the point to which I have had it.
“V” is for Vodka: There’s some in the freezer. Let me at it!
“W” is for Wodka: That’s Polish vodka.
“X” is for . . . uh . . . I’ll have to get back to you on that — they didn’t take any x-rays, and there’s no xylophone in this little melodrama. Maybe my X-rated message to the insurance company?
“Y” is for Yesterday: Which I am very thankful isn’t today.
. . . and, at long last . . .
“Z” is for Zzzzzzzz: Which is where I am headed now, hopefully to make it through the night without too much interruptus. Thanks for sticking with me to the bitter end, and be glad I didn’t use the Cyrillic alphabet, because it has 33 letters.
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