A brief item in CNN’s “5 Things” column on Sunday caught my eye, because it actually sounded like good news. It’s brief, so let me quote it in full:

“Following last year’s mass shooting at Michigan State University and the Oxford High School shooting that occurred in 2021, new gun safety laws will go into effect in Michigan on Tuesday — including a law that says all firearms in homes with minors must be securely stored with a gun lock or in a safe.”

Well, that’s good, right? Yes, but . . .

My next thought was to question how that might be enforced. Unfortunately, the answer was, “After the fact.” Because this is the United States, and without just cause to suspect that a crime is being or is about to be committed, or without a legal search warrant, our authorities can’t just randomly go charging into people’s homes to check out their weapons storage. So the effect of the new law would seem to be holding the gun owner(s) responsible if and when one of their weapons is used by their offspring or other minor in the commission of a crime . . . say, for example, when Junior goes bonkers and shoots up his school because the girl he likes turned down his invitation to the prom. (In my day, he would simply have spray-painted something nasty on her school locker . . . but times have changed.)

Naturally, I followed the link to the new Michigan law itself, where I found both good and bad news. Good news first: The owner of an improperly stored gun is guilty of a misdemeanor punishable by imprisonment of not more than 93 days and/or a fine of not more than $500 if a minor obtains the firearm and possesses or exhibits it in a public place or in the presence of another person in a careless, reckless or threatening manner. Appropriately, the charge becomes a felony if the minor uses the weapon to wound or kill another person or persons, with proportionally increasing penalties (imprisonment and/or fine) for the gun’s owner(s).

Okay, that is good: Parents, and other adults, will now be held responsible if they’re careless with their weapons and kids get hold of them. But . . .

Incredibly, the law goes on to state:

“Penalties will not be imposed under Michigan’s safe storage law in the following circumstances:

If the minor:

(1) Obtains a firearm with the permission of the minor’s parent or guardian,

(2) Uses or possesses the firearm while under the supervision of the minor’s parent, guardian, or any individual who is 18 years of age or older and who is authorized by the minor’s parent or guardian, and

(3) Uses or possesses the firearm during (a) the minor’s employment, (b) ranching or farming, or (c) target practice or instruction in the safe use of a firearm.

If the minor obtains a firearm with the permission of the minor’s parent or guardian, and uses the firearm for the purposes of hunting and the minor is in compliance with all applicable hunting laws.

If the minor obtains a firearm through the minor’s unlawful entry of any premises or a motor vehicle where the firearm has been stored.

If the minor obtains a firearm while lawfully acting in self-defense or defense of another.”

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!!!!!

Am I reading this correctly? Really?? Because what I’m seeing is that you’re responsible if you don’t lock up your gun and your kid takes it when you’re not looking. But it’s perfectly all right for you to just hand it over and trust this scrawny, immature bundle of nerves and hormones — whose frontal lobe is still a decade away from being fully developed — to do the right thing. And if you live on a farm or a ranch . . . well, apparently, anything goes.

So now I understand why people aren’t really joking when they call the folks from Michigan Meshuggeners.* Because this law, as written, is apparently the work of a group of well-meaning simpletons (at best) or madmen (at worst).

* “Meshuggeners”: Yiddish word meaning anything from “foolish” to “out-and-out insane.”

*. *. *

While I applaud the Michigan state legislature for making the attempt to reduce the likelihood of mass shootings occurring in their schools and elsewhere, I’m not seeing this particular piece of legislation as being much of a solution. Unfortunately, I can’t offer anything better . . . short of locking up all pre-pubescent kids until they’re 25 or 30, when hopefully those frontal lobes will guide them to make better decisions.

Although, looking at some of today’s adults, I’m not so sure about that either.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
2/13/24

On January 29th, the world heard from Vladimir Kara-Murza’s wife Evgenia that her husband had left the “strict regime” penal colony where he had been held since last September, and that there was no word as to where he was being taken. In circumstances eerily similar to the case of opposition leader Alexei Navalny, there has been no further news as to his whereabouts. But — noticeably and disturbingly unlike Navalny’s disappearance — Kara-Murza’s case does not seem to have drawn the public outrage I would have hoped to see, most likely because he is not as widely well-known as Navalny.

Under the circumstances, my report of February 5th on this upsetting development bears repeating:

“One of the few outspoken dissidents who have opted to remain in Russia despite the harsh punishments being meted out by the increasingly repressive Putin regime, Kara-Murza has been sentenced to 25 years for treason and ‘spreading false information’ about the Russian invasion of Ukraine. His only real crime? Speaking the truth. And now — as they did to Navalny — the authorities have removed Kara-Murza to . . . where? No one knows, because they are not required to inform the prisoner’s family or legal counsel. It took three weeks for Navalny to resurface, and when he did, he was in one of the harshest prison camps — IK-3, also referred to as ‘Polar Wolf’ — some 40 miles inside the Arctic Circle.

“During the period of Navalny’s ‘unavailability,’ I posted articles titled ‘Where Is Alexei Navalny?’ Do I now have to start a series for Vladimir Kara-Murza? I hope not; but if it becomes necessary, I assure you, I will.”

*. *. *

Vladimir Kara-Murza holds British citizenship, and presumably could be an asset to the Russians in the event of future discussions of a prisoner swap. But he is also still a Russian citizen, which the Kremlin could also use to its own advantage. He suffers from serious health problems, and desperately needs the world’s help to effectuate his release.

And so begins my weekly reminder that Vladimir Kara-Murza is still missing . . . an innocent man, a political pawn held HOSTAGE by the Putin regime.

Do not forget him, or any of the others like him. They are vital to the future of Russia.

Their power resides in their words . . .

Please . . . bring them home!

Brendochka
2/12/24

On this day of traditional, old-fashioned love and romance, I wish everyone a time of joy in the company of those you most care for.

*. *. *

But after the exchanges of hugs and kisses and flowers and chocolates, and the romantic dinner, and whatever else you have planned, life goes on . . . and so, apparently, does World War II.

“WHAT?? Has she finally lost the last of her diminishing supply of marbles?” — you ask. Actually, no . . . I have not. Because technically, Russia and Japan have never signed a peace treaty. The war in the Pacific — for those two, at least — is not yet officially over.

Well, isn’t that exactly what you needed to hear? The world isn’t screwed up enough? Russia needs more countries to invade? Okay, calm down now. Russia has not invaded Japan, and as far as I know, they’re not planning to. (Of course, they swore they weren’t going to invade Ukraine either . . . until they did. But that’s a whole different ball of wax.) As for Japan, I have no idea what they might be thinking, because they really want their islands back.

“Their” islands? Maybe. We are, of course, talking about the Kuril Islands: a volcanic archipelago of 56 tiny patches of land stretching about 800 miles from Hokkaido, Japan, to the Kamchatka Peninsula in Russia, and serving as a divider of sorts between the Sea of Okhotsk and the northern Pacific Ocean. Together, they cover an area of about 6,000 square miles, and boast a population of around 20,000. And both Japan and Russia lay claim to them.

The history of the islands is long and complex — they’ve changed hands back and forth more times than a tennis ball at Wimbledon. But Russia currently occupies and maintains tight control over them, and Japan wants them back . . . or more particularly, the four southernmost islands, the ones closest to Hokkaido, which include two of the largest of the chain. And Russia’s not about to budge. They took those four — and a good bit more — at the end of the war with Japan in 1945, but Japan continues to claim that they’re part of their country “as they have always been visible with the naked eye from the Japanese island of Hokkaido and appear on centuries-old maps of Japan as being part of Japan.” [Russian Analytical Digest, July 2020.]

(Why am I having a sudden flashback to a certain former Governor of Alaska claiming that she could see Russia from her front porch? It’s weird. But I digress . . . )

Going back a few hundred years, the islands were first settled by the Russians in the 17th and 18th Centuries, and were later seized by Japan in 1875. After World War II, Japan ceded them back to the Soviet Union, the Japanese occupants were repatriated, and the islands have since — together with the larger Sakhalin Island — formed a strategically-located administrative region of the Soviet Union / Russian Federation. [Russian Analytical Digest, July 2020.]

But Japan still claims right of ownership of the four southernmost bits of floating real estate, and so the back-and-forth continues . . . and, officially, so does World War II.

With two fiercely stubborn world powers holding the opposite ends of this very long rope, it’s anyone’s guess as to how this will play out. Personally, I don’t see why they can’t just split the difference — two for you, and two for me — and put at least one war to rest.

And now you know why I never went into politics.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
2/14/24

Think you know yourself fairly well? Think again, folks . . . because there’s some pretty weird stuff I’ll bet you didn’t know. Oh, sure, when Aunt Tillie’s left shoulder aches, that means it’s going to rain. And when you scarf down a huge bowl of Texas chili in two minutes flat, you can probably predict what’s going to happen to your digestive system in the next couple of hours.

But did you know . . . ?

. . . that in addition to fingerprints, you have a unique set of tongue prints? I wonder whether that means that in the near future, suspects in criminal investigations, applicants for gun permits, military personnel, etc., will be required to provide a tongue print for ID purposes. It seems pretty redundant, what with DNA testing, but just in case, maybe we should heed grandma’s advice: “Keep a civil tongue in your head, or else!”

. . . that you get a new stomach lining every three to four days? If you didn’t, the strong acids used by your stomach to digest food would also digest your stomach. Well, that makes me feel better about that bowl of Texas nitro.

. . . that your nose — while not as sensitive as a dog’s — can detect 50,000 different scents? I didn’t even know there were 50,000 different scents!

. . . and speaking of smelling, did you know that the source of smelly feet, like smelly armpits, is sweat? And that a pair of feet has 500,000 sweat glands, and can produce more than a pint of sweat a day? So why aren’t we sloshing around in that pint of sweat by the end of the day? And I wonder if the same is true of dogs, because my beautiful Sheltie, Toby, never had any body odor, but his paws always smelled like old gym shoes.

. . . that the air from a human sneeze can travel at speeds of 100 m.p.h. or more? Apparently it can. So next time you hear someone near you going “Aah . . . aah . . . aah . . .” — perhaps you’d better duck before the final “choo” comes flying your way.

. . . and finally, that a newborn baby has 350 bones, but an adult has only 206? That’s because bones apparently fuse together during growth. I’m not sure which ones fuse with which other ones, but I’d be willing to bet that it’s those missing 144 original bones that are causing all my aches and pains now.

(The source of all this incredible information: The Book of Unusual Knowledge, Publications International, Ltd., 2012.)

*. *. *

So that’s our anatomy lesson for today. Wasn’t it fun?

Hello, out there! I asked a question. It was fun, wasn’t it? Well? Isn’t anyone going to answer? There’s going to be a quiz, you know! Hellloooo??!!!

Okay . . . now, that’s just plain rude.

Brendochka
2/11/24

If you were to put Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin and Tucker Carlson in a locked, empty room together for a month, who do you think would be the last man standing?

Well, let’s look at them individually. Putin is unquestionably the smartest of the three, and probably the most physically fit. But Trump could live off of his accumulated fat the longest. And Carlson . . . I really don’t know anything about his physical condition, though he appears to be healthy, and he is the youngest.

Psychologically . . . well, that’s a whole different ballgame. You’ve got two narcissistic sociopaths and an idiot who would — and does — believe anything the other two tell him. The first two are already best buddies (for as long as it benefits them), so yeah, I think they’d gang up on Carlson, strangle him with Trump’s extra-long necktie, and — lacking a butcher knife and a source of heat — start gnawing on a raw drumstick as a last resort.

And then there were two.

Ironically, these are the two guys Tucker Carlson seems to admire most . . . so much so that he gave Vladimir Putin a worldwide stage for two hours of the most blatant, inaccurate, bullshit propaganda imaginable. And he seems to be proud of himself for having done it.

(Oh, by the way . . . Razzies also to Elon Musk for making your stupidly-named “X” available to them.)

Now, which of the remaining two would you prefer to survive? Yeah, I know . . . that’s like asking which presumptive U.S. presidential nominee you want to vote for. The smart answer seems to be “Neither of the above.” But which one would actually come out of that room victorious? I know who I think it would be. But you decide for yourselves . . . keeping in mind, of course, that either way, we’re screwed.

*. *. *

Seriously, I’m not suggesting we bring back the ancient Roman tradition of tossing our enemies into the ring with a few hungry lions. But I keep asking myself how two such miserable excuses for human beings . . . such total abominations . . . such plagues upon the face of the Earth . . . could have come to be in positions of power at the same point in time. Weren’t Stalin and Hitler enough of a lesson? How could we have let it happen . . . again? We, the voting public, did not create them; but we accepted them.

Now, what are we going to do about it? In the U.S., we can vote our consciences (those of us who have consciences) — assuming we can find a couple of qualified alternative candidates. In Russia, it’s not so easy — there are qualified people, but everyone who has ever tried to run against Putin has wound up disenfranchised, imprisoned, or dead. It’s a real conundrum.

Now, the third chap — this Tucker Carlson guy, who hasn’t actually been cannibalized, remember — is much easier to deal with. Just ignore him. Don’t give him a forum. Don’t click into his website, his YouTube channel, or whatever else he comes up with. Without an audience, he will eventually fade into obscurity like the nonentity he really is. Can we do that? Please??!!!

Then maybe I could get a decent night’s sleep.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
2/10/24

I love learning about all sorts of things: history, current affairs, music, literature, travel, languages, politics, cooking, animals, fashion, theater, Hollywood gossip, and so on . . . and on . . . and on. And most of my blog posts, which I have shared with my Facebook friends and family for the past year, have been about those topics as they occur to me, or as they appear in the day’s news.

But I also have a passion for trivia . . . those odd factoids that contribute little or nothing to an individual’s real “education,” but do make great cocktail party conversation. Or whatever substitutes for a cocktail party these days.

And for those who don’t always have the time — or the desire — to read my more long-winded presentations every day, it occurs to me that a quickie (get your minds out of the gutter!) might be just the ticket. So I will be tossing these into the mix from time to time, just for fun. And I have randomly chosen to start off with:

Did you know . . .

. . . that the deadliest earthquake and string of aftershocks in recorded history struck Egypt, Syria, and surrounding areas in the year 1201 A.D. Obviously, there are no first-hand records of the event, but the experts — presumably seismologists — believe it was a shocking magnitude 9. To make matters worse, Egypt was already experiencing a major drought, which exacerbated the situation and led to mass starvation . . . and, apparently, a spate of cannibalism. Although how they determined that fact eight centuries later is a mystery to me. I mean, bones are bones, right? Or did somebody’s meaty femur show signs of having been gnawed on? And are they sure the offending teeth were those of humans, and not wild animals? In any event, historians estimate the death toll at around 1.1 million people, which is a lot of people, even today. [Source: The Book of Extraordinary Facts, Publications International, Ltd., 2012.]

Just a little tidbit to fill that lull in the conversation at dinner. Hope it comes in handy.

TTFN,
Brendochka
2/9/24

And that, in six words, sums up politics in Russia when you have the cojones to even think about running against Vladimir Putin.

Boris Nadezhdin tried. He knew the odds were stacked against him. He knew he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of winning. But he did better than anyone anticipated, and in the end he made a significant statement: Not everyone in Russia is pro-Putin or in favor of his “special military operation” in Ukraine.

But of the 105,000 signatures Nadezhdin submitted in support of his candidacy (100,000 are required), the Election Commission — surprise! surprise! — found “flaws” in more than 9,000 of them. A 5% error rate is permitted; they clearly needed to find more than that, and they did. Nadezhdin’s team says those were minor typos that occurred when the handwritten signatures were typed into the computers. Nice try, but “no” means “no,” where the Russian authorities are concerned.

Boris hasn’t given up yet. He says he’ll appeal to the Supreme Court, and that he’ll continue to campaign against Putin: “Sooner or later I will be president of the Russian Federation. I wish it would be sooner.” [AFP, Feb. 8, 2024.]

So do I. But until that day — if it ever comes — take care of yourself, Boris.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
2/8/24

I called this one. And I really can’t brag about it, because it was pretty much of a no-brainer. Boris Nadezhdin has now been warned by the Election Commission that they have found “flawed” signatures on his petition for approval as a candidate for the presidency of the Russian Federation in next month’s election.

Well, color me surprised . . . NOT!

On February 1st, I expressed my concern for this courageous man who has already managed to develop a substantial following, and gathered more than twice the number of signatures required to support his petition for inclusion on the ballot. I also wondered whether the Election Commission would still find a way to block his inclusion. And that may just be what is happening now. They have two more days in which to announce their final decision.

Whether he succeeds or fails, the next — and greatest — concern is for his future safety. Will he end up, like Alexei Navalny and Vladimir Kara-Murza, charged with and convicted of the heinous “crime” of speaking out against the war in Ukraine, and consigned for the next 25 or 30 years to some barren Siberian penal colony inside the Arctic Circle? Or will he follow Yevgeny Prigozhin into that growing collection of unfortunate souls who have met with suspicious “accidents” or premature “heart attacks”? Will the public clamor in his favor be enough to save him from the government’s . . . oh, wait. We’re talking about Vladimir Putin’s government, not anything even vaguely resembling a democracy. Scratch that last half-question.

In a society where the laws are changed daily at the whim of one individual, and order is forcefully maintained by jack-booted militias, public opinion becomes irrelevant and life hangs by a thread. As always when dealing with Putin’s Russia, we can only wait and see what happens in Mr. Nadezhdin’s case, and hope that his worst punishment turns out to be the agony of defeat at the polls.

Good luck, Boris.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
2/8/24

I’m writing this on Monday, February 5th, having just perused the day’s headlines for inspiration while trying to keep it on the lighter side. And what I’ve come up with are, first, some guy in Patterson, New York spray-painting squirrels bright red in order to identify which ones have been coming onto his property and “tormenting” his dogs; second, a lady, now happily married, who found an old, pre-marriage selfie in which her then-unknown husband appears in the background; and finally, Miley Cyrus appearing at the Grammy Awards dressed in nothing but gold safety pins somehow fashioned together into a form-fitting, transparent garment . . . in other words, effectively naked.

Now, admittedly, Miley’s looking really good these days. But I’d still rather look at a painted squirrel than a twerking exhibitionist. Call me old-fashioned; it’s just my personal preference.

In fact, I can’t seem to work up much interest in any of those subjects. But I did sit up and take notice when a breaking news item flashed onto my screen, announcing that Britain’s King Charles III has been diagnosed with an unspecified form of cancer, discovered while he was in the hospital for what was supposed to have been a fairly routine treatment of an enlarged prostate — not an unusual issue for a 75-year-old man.

Now, the world has not yet been — and may never be — advised of the specifics of Charles’ condition. The Crown is, of course, traditionally reticent when it comes to sharing personal details. But this monarch has been far more open than his mother, Queen Elizabeth II, stating that he wishes to help others by drawing attention to the dangers of not taking proper care of one’s health. Good for him. And all the best in his fight against this disease that, while now far more treatable and curable than just a few years ago, is still frightening to contemplate.

And it made me think of another current issue that scares the crap out of me: the upcoming U.S. presidential election, in which the most likely nominees appear to be the incumbent Joe Biden, 81 (with another birthday coming up in November), and Donald Trump, soon to be 78 (in June). Barring any unforeseen calamity between now and the November election, we’ll probably be making a choice between a tired-looking octogenarian and a total sociopath just three years younger. And by the time the next four-year term ends, they will be 86 and 82, respectively.

Now, as a member of their generation, I can attest to the fact that we don’t necessarily lose all of our mental faculties as we get older. And everyone ages differently. But in general, there are things I’ve observed, in comparing notes with friends and relatives around my age, that are pretty much guaranteed to happen to all of us around this time of our lives.

— Physically, you don’t have the energy or the stamina you had a few short years ago. You just don’t. Getting out of bed in the morning — or simply getting out of a chair — can sometimes seem like an enormous effort, and there are days you wonder if it’s really worth it.

— Things ache. Backs, shoulders, necks, arms, legs . . . any and every part of your body, sometimes one at a time, sometimes all at once. A roll-on analgesic becomes your best friend and constant companion.

— Your bladder makes its presence felt much more frequently, suddenly, and urgently. When in an unfamiliar location, the rest rooms are the first thing you look for . . . just in case.

— Your eyesight and hearing are suddenly somewhat diminished. The old bifocals become trifocals, and everyone seems to be mumbling.

— Your annual physical, which always brought in a verdict of “everything looks great,” now ends with, “except for that, you’re in good shape for your age.” Thanks a lot, Doc.

— The little shelf in the kitchen or the bathroom where you keep your prescription bottles is overflowing. Those things seem to multiply like rabbits.

— And mentally . . . well, you’re still compos mentis, as far as you (or anyone else) can tell. But what was the name of that person you were just introduced to? And how many times did you have to read that last sentence before you remembered what it said? Or what was the word for . . . oh, you know . . . that thing . . . ? You can remember every detail of what you and your date wore to the junior prom 60 years ago, but yesterday’s schedule . . . a complete blur. And quick recall . . . well, let’s just say you probably shouldn’t apply to be on Jeopardy. (It’s not the same without what’s-his-name anyway.)

*. *. *

I’m sure you get the picture. And you’re probably wondering whether I think King Charles should abdicate in favor of his son now. In fact, I do not. First, because he’s waited 70 long years to sit on that throne, and he deserves to enjoy it for a while. But also because there’s a huge difference between the demands of his role as King and the role of the President of the United States. The King of England (and all the other parts of the British Commonwealth), while incredibly busy, operates in a largely ceremonial role and as an overseer, while the job of running the country is primarily in the hands of the Prime Minister and Parliament. The King is actually required to stay out of politics. So if he has to cancel some of his public appearances for a while in order to look after his health, the country keeps running smoothly, with other members of the royal family jumping in to fill some of the gaps.

But the job of the U.S. President is that of King and Prime Minister combined, and it’s a job that demands 100 percent of both physical and mental faculties, 24/7. Queen Elizabeth II wore the crown for 70 years. Judging from the “before” and “after” photos of past presidents, even four years of that kind of pressure takes a huge toll on the occupants of the White House.

And yes, if the President is temporarily out of commission, the 25th Amendment kicks in and provides for continuity. And in the worst-case scenario, we have a constitutional order of . . . dammit, I’ve forgotten the word! . . . you know . . . oh right, succession! Next is the Vice President, then Speaker of the House . . . Omigod, no! Please — not him!

*. *. *

So, to get to the end of this diatribe, the point I’m trying to make is . . . uh . . . well, I hope you know, because I’ve lost my train of thought. Feels like time for a nap.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
2/7/24

Years ago, I was astonished to learn of the huge market for something called “bat guano,” which is the proper name for bat poop. As I recall, China was particularly eager to obtain it for agricultural use at that time. Today it can be bought — in dried form — online, but back in the 1980s it was a big deal. And I have to wonder . . . were those the ancestors of the bats that are now being blamed for starting the whole Covid thing? Hmmm . . .

Well, recently I have read that everyone is now going batshit over something called “ambergris,” more commonly known as whale poop. And the first thing that came to my mind was, “how do you get a whale to poop in a pot?” Because otherwise, isn’t that stuff all going to be at the bottom of the ocean?

Actually, no, it isn’t — that would only be the excrement from living whales. And apparently, it doesn’t sink anyway; it floats. But there’s also what’s left in the intestines of dead sperm whales that can be harvested and sold for — of all things! — an ingredient in perfumes. Lovely, expensive, mostly French perfumes. Perfumes with lovely French names, like . . . Eau de Fumier. (Don’t bother looking it up — fumier is French for “dung.”)

*. *. *

So how, I began to wonder, does a substance transform from a sperm whale’s digested dinner into a rock-hard solid, and thence into an enchanting liquid to be dabbed on the pulse points of a pampered Parisian princess? Thanks to Nathan Rennolds of Business Insider, I was able to find an answer to that question . . . in rather excruciating detail.

Actually, its discovery dates back to the whaling industry of the 1800s, when “the mysterious substance, which is often snagged floating in the sea, was . . . found [to have been] produced by sperm whales.” We now know that “ A large part of the whales’ diet is made up of cephalopods like squid. While most of the indigestible parts are vomited out by the whales, some bits find their way into the intestines and stick together . . . This mass continues to grow and eventually becomes a lump of ambergris.” [Nathan Rennolds, Business Insider, July 8, 2023.] Sounds to me like a plain, old-fashioned bowel obstruction.

So much for the excruciating detail. But how did a 21-pound lump of it, found in the intestines of a dead sperm whale that washed up on a beach on the Spanish Island of La Palma, come to be worth more than half a million dollars? Well, the same way as do most valuable substances — diamonds, gold, oil, uranium: it’s their rarity, and the difficulty involved in extracting and refining them once they are found, plus the availability of a well-heeled niche market greedy for them.

The article goes on to describe the scent of the ambergris and the extraction from it of a substance called ambrein, which apparently is used to make perfume aromas last longer — all fairly technical and not terribly exciting, but crucial to the development of the final product.

And then I began thinking about the future of all of those magnificent, already endangered behemoths of the sea, and what might happen to them if poachers decided to cash in on their amazing payload. And again, Mr. Rennolds’ article came to my rescue:

“Richard Sabin, the curator of marine mammals at the Natural History Museum, said that ‘whales are now protected worldwide, but could still be at risk in the future.’ He added that ‘synthetic alternatives to ambergris do exist, and the use of these should be encouraged, [as it] would prevent whales being viewed in any way as a resource that humans can exploit.’” [Id.]

Well, they’d better hurry, because there have apparently been instances of this already. “In 2021, a group of fishermen in the Gulf of Aden sold a chunk of ambergris worth around $1.5 million to a buyer in the United Arab Emirates. The 35 fishermen purchased houses, cars, and boats from their profits, the BBC reported.” [Id.]

*. *. *

Other than the long-prized cow manure your nose detects when driving through farm country, who knew that more exotic feces could be such prized material? It makes one wonder whether we should actually be throwing away all those little Zip-Loc baggies we bring back from our walks with Lassie, or the leftovers from the kitty litter box . . . not to mention the stuff on the bottom of the bird cage. That puppy/kitty/parakeet poop could be worth a pile (pun intended) one day . . . much like all those original Barbie dolls and GI Joes and first-edition comic books we wish we’d kept. But where would one store the baggies while waiting for them to increase in value? In the kitchen freezer? Not in my house!

But the next time I see a fund-raiser for a “Save the Whales” group, you can be sure I’ll be digging deep into my pockets to contribute. I’ll just use some of the money I might have spent on that French parfum.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
2/6/24