Okay, so it’s spelled differently. But a pickle by any other name (or spelling) is still a pickle. And Igor Girkin has finally found himself in one. Heaven knows, he’s worked at it long enough.

In 2022, he was tried, in absentia, at The Hague for his alleged role in the 2014 downing of Malaysian Airlines flight MH17 over eastern Ukraine. Along with two other defendants, he was found guilty of the murder of the 298 passengers and crew aboard the Boeing jet, and sentenced to life in prison. He has ignored the judgment and has remained at liberty. Appearing as cool as the proverbial cucumber, he has said, quite simply, “I do not recognise the authority of the Dutch court on this matter. I am a military man and I am not going to accept that a civilian court in a foreign country has the authority to convict a person who took part in someone else’s civil war, only because their civilians were killed.” [Steve Rosenberg, BBC News, Jan. 26, 2024.]

Oh, well, then . . . that explains everything: Mr. Girkin — though it doesn’t show up on his curriculum vitae — is apparently a student of the Donald Trump Method of Evasion. Deny it long enough, and it never happened.

*. *. *

In reality, Girkin is a former Russian FSB intelligence colonel who has taken the nom de guerre of Strelkov (“Shooter”). He has fully supported Russia’s invasions, in 2014 and 2022, of Ukraine. But he made the same mistake that ultimately took the life of Yevgeny Prigozhin: he became openly critical of the military’s conduct of the war, and of President Vladimir Putin himself. He has declared his desire to run in opposition to Putin in the upcoming election (March 15-17, 2024), even though he has no chance of even being allowed to do so; he has said he merely “wanted to disrupt the ‘sham’ poll with the winner already known.” [Vicky Wong, BBC News, Nov. 19, 2023.]

Since, in Russia, it is apparently acceptable to shoot down commercial aircraft filled with innocent civilians (as long as it’s done on behalf of Mother Russia), but not to criticize the government, the military, or — Heaven forbid! — Tsar Putin himself . . .

Well, here is where things went sour for Mr. Girkin. Because he became upset at the way the Russian authorities were waging the war: he felt they were not trying hard enough. And so he founded a hard-line nationalist movement that he called The Club of Angry Patriots. And he began directing that anger at Putin himself, describing the President as a “non-entity,” and “a cowardly waste of space.” [BBC News, Nov. 19, 2023.]

Oh, shit!

I doubt many people were surprised when he was arrested, charged with “extremism,” found guilty, and sentenced to four years in a penal colony. Actually, that’s a very light sentence compared to others that have been handed down for similar “crimes” to people such as Vladimir Kara-Murza (25 years), and Alexei Navalny (a total of 30 years on various charges). But this time, I doubt that Mr. Girkin will have the option of refusing to recognize the authority of the court.

In fact, he will have four long years to marinate in his own anger.

And that, I promise you, is my last pun . . . for today, at least.

TTFN,
Brendochka
1/26/24

If you’re a news junky like I am, life can seem pretty depressing a lot of the time. And just when you’re about ready to pull the covers over your head and stay there until the next millennium, you miraculously stumble across an article that not only makes you laugh out loud, but actually cheers you up. Because even while our fellow homo sapiens continue to let us down, we can always find the good — and the fun — in our non-human companions . . . in this case, some incredibly beautiful African gray parrots from the United Kingdom.

According to the January 23rd article by Issy Ronald of CNN-London, it all started back in 2020, when five African grays were donated to the Lincolnshire Wildlife Park in eastern England. It was soon found to be necessary to isolate the questionable quintet from the general population in order to prevent the spread of — not a disease — but a really bad habit they had picked up somewhere, and to try to rehabilitate the foul-mouthed felons. You see, those five were guilty of extreme profanity: they swore like a bunch of fugitives from a prison chain gang.

But somehow, the phenomenon seems already to have cropped up elsewhere, because this week three newly donated birds — named Eric, Captain, and Sheila — arrived at Lincolnshire, spouting language that would make a longshoreman blush. According to the park’s chief executive, Steve Nichols:

“When we came to move them, the language that came out of their carrying boxes was phenomenal, really bad. Not normal swear words, these were proper expletives.” [CNN, Jan. 23, 2024.]

So the crew at the zoo are trying a new tactic: putting the “eight really, really offensive, swearing parrots with 92 non-swearing ones” in the hope that the eight little hoodlums will learn “all the nice noises like microwaves and vehicles reversing” that most of the others favor. But if the opposite happens, and the well-behaved birds pick up the naughty habits from the Gang of Eight, well then . . . “it’s going to turn into some adult aviary.”

Mr. Nichols further explained that, since parrots echo the precise sounds they hear, six of the eight have men’s voices, two have women’s voices, and when they’re all swearing at once, it’s rather . . . well . . . a unique experience, and not in a good way.

The park has placed large warning signs for the visitors, but thus far they have not received any complaints. In fact, the visitors seem to delight in swearing at the parrots, which could screw up the whole flocking program.

*. *. *

So we’ll just have to wait to see how this all plays out. In the meantime, if you find yourself in eastern England and decide to visit the aviary at the Lincolnshire Wildlife Park, please give my best to Eric, Captain, Sheila, and all the other foul-mouthed fowl. And don’t be surprised, as you walk by, to hear one of them call out, “Eff off, ye old battleaxe!”

I wonder . . . are their accents more London or Liverpool?

Brendochka
1/25/24

Here’s one for the books. Last week, as reported by Russian state media TASS, Vladimir Putin signed a new decree allocating funds “for the research and registration of Russian property overseas, including that in former territories of the Russian Empire and Soviet Union.” [Miranda Nazzaro, The Hill, Jan. 23, 2024.] Putin wasn’t talking about individual bank accounts; he was looking at prime real estate — and lots of it.

Although Alaska — which, as you may know, was purchased from Imperial Russia by the United States in 1867 for the bargain price of $7.2 Million, or around two cents ($0.02) an acre — wasn’t specifically mentioned in the decree, there are those whose attention has understandably been drawn to the situation. Some military bloggers have argued that Putin was using the decree to declare the sale illegal.

All right, are you finished laughing? Good. To continue . . .

On Monday, the State Department’s principal deputy spokesperson, Vedant Patel, responded at a press briefing as follows: “Well, I think I can speak for all of us in the U.S. government to say that certainly he’s not getting it back.” [The Hill, Jan. 23, 2024.] There was laughter from his audience, too.

I agree . . . the concept is as funny as anything I’ve heard coming from the direction of the Kremlin in a long time. But, knowing the skullduggery of which Vladimir Putin is capable, we can’t really dismiss anything he or his henchmen say without careful consideration.

The Institute for the Study of War noted last week that the “exact parameters of what constitutes current or historical Russia property are unclear.” Even assuming they know they can’t simply say they want it and then actually hope to get it back, this could be used as “soft power mechanisms in post-Soviet and neighboring states ultimately aimed at internal destabilization.” One military blogger, in a Telegram post, “suggested Russia could start enacting the law in Alaska and parts of Eastern Europe, the Caucasus and Central Asia.” [The Hill, Jan. 23, 2024.]

As with so many of Vladimir Putin’s grand pronouncements, his words and actions can, and usually do, hold one or more hidden meanings. Perhaps he thinks he has a chance of regaining some of the Baltic states, the Caucasus or the Central Asian “Stans,” and has tossed Alaska into the mix simply to stir things up and create a bit of chaos in the U.S. — much as he has done in our elections — or to divert attention from his actions elsewhere . . . a typical Russian red herring (pun intended).

In any event, I wouldn’t start relocating the good people of Alaska any time soon. Remember . . . we didn’t march in and snatch it from Russia’s hands; we paid cold, hard cash for those 586,412 acres. And if they’re now thinking the price was too low . . . well, they agreed to it. In fact, they thought it was useless property and that they had gotten the best of us, which is why it was referred to as “Seward’s Folly.” Nobody knew then that it would have all that lovely oil. Sometimes, Mr. Putin, life just sucks.

*. *. *

But one thing does concern me, and that is the question of who will be President of the United States for the four years from 2025-29. From Putin’s point of view, he’s hoping it will be an old friend of his, someone he can easily manipulate and convince that he has that friend’s best interests at heart. Someone who already admires Putin to the extent of emulating his high-handed, dictatorial style of governing. And Putin will do anything to see that that happens.

This election is ours, not Vladimir Putin’s. And it’s not about making America great again. America already is great, and always has been. This time, it’s about keeping America great, and keeping her united . . . Alaska included!

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
1/24/24

It’s happened more than once . . . you know, all those times when Donald Trump has opened his mouth, inserted his far-right foot, and proven himself to be, shall we say, somewhat less knowledgeable than he would have the world believe. The fact that it has happened again is not news. But the two people who have recently given his foot a little extra lift toward his rosebud lips are rather surprising.

The first is none other than Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, the popular one-time entertainer suddenly thrust, two years ago, into the roles of commander-in-chief, diplomat, and all-around hero. Being normally, and very wisely, reserved in his descriptions of other world figures — with the obvious and understandable exception of Vladimir Putin and his many minions — President Zelensky has until now remained nearly silent concerning Trump’s ludicrous boast that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours if he were to be elected U.S. President for a second term.

But President Zelensky recently broke that silence, expressing serious concern over Trump’s ridiculous boast. In fact, in an interview on Britain’s Channel Four News on January 19th, Zelensky said that he considered Trump’s braggadocio as “very dangerous,” as the former U.S. president “has not said what his post-war scenario would look like.” [Andrew Carey and Victoria Butenko, CNN, Jan. 20, 2024.]

In other words, what would be the terms of any such truce as Trump envisions it? Trump never really answers that question. When asked by CNN’s Kaitlan Collins in May of 2023 how he would accomplish this goal, he responded, “They [presumably meaning Russia and Ukraine] both have weaknesses and they both have strengths and within 24 hours that war will be settled, that war will be over.”

Ms. Collins — along with President Zelensky and the rest of the world — is still waiting for a coherent response to her question.

While acknowledging that the whole thing may just be another instance of Trump’s outrageously exaggerated style of campaigning, Zelensky expressed fear that Trump, if elected, “might unilaterally make decisions that do not work for Ukraine or its people, and seek to drive them through regardless . . . [which] makes me really quite stressed.” [Carey and Butenko, CNN, Jan. 20, 2024.] Zelensky has consistently and insistently maintained that any peace deal with Russia would have to include removal of all Russian forces from Ukrainian lands they have occupied since 2014, including Crimea . . . which Russia consistently and insistently says is, for them, a non-starter.

Stalemate.

So, Mr. Trump, lotsa luck keeping that promise in the event you are . . . Oh, no! No!! I can’t say it! I can’t even think about it!

*. *. *

The second, and apparently unintentional, little nudge came from a wholly unanticipated comment made by the always acerbic Kremlin press secretary, Dmitry Peskov, who is quoted as having said, when asked about Trump’s 24-hour-truce plan: “No, we have no understanding of how this can be done. We have not had any contacts on this.” In other words, the Putin administration has no idea what Trump has in mind.

But that’s not surprising, because neither has Trump.

Since Putin desperately wants his clueless friend back in the White House, it is unlikely that Peskov meant to undermine Trump. He simply goofed, and in so doing, gave America the biggest, nicest belated Christmas gift we could have wished for . . . and we appreciate it. Donald Trump doesn’t need anyone to help him look like Mad King George; but thanks anyway.

Just sayin’ . . .

Made you smile, didn’t I?

Brendochka
1/23/24

Just as I was starting to feel as though this nasty sinus infection of the past five days was beginning to ease and I was feeling a bit better, I ran across this item in yesterday’s news concerning our little furry rodent friends and their unexpected effect on the Russian invasion of Ukraine. And now I feel a different kind of sick:

“The frontlines of Russia’s war in Ukraine have become infested with rats and mice, reportedly spreading disease that causes soldiers to vomit and bleed from their eyes, crippling combat capability and recreating the gruesome conditions that plagued troops in the trench warfare of World War I. The infestations are due partly to the change in seasons and mice’s mating cycle, but are also a measure of how the war has become static . . .” [CNN’s 5 Things, Jan. 21, 2024.]

They had me at the vomiting and bleeding from the eyes. As though the missiles, bombs and drones weren’t enough, the military on both sides — defenders and aggressors — have this new plague to deal with. And how long will it be before the new little invaders find their way to the general population in what is left of the homes, hospitals and churches of Ukraine’s cities and towns? Do the people of Ukraine deserve this? For that matter, do the families of the conscripted Russian soldiers, praying back at home for their husbands, sons, brothers to be returned to them, need this additional worry?

Some will say it’s just another fallout of war. Maybe so. But why do we keep doing these things to ourselves and each other? Once again, my thoughts return to one of my favorite folk songs of the ‘60s:

“Where have all the soldiers gone?
Gone to graveyards, every one.
When will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?”
[“Where Have All the Flowers Gone,” Pete Seeger, 1955]

Apparently, the answer is . . . never.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
1/22/24

Still out of commission, three days now. Who would have thought so much misery could be caused by empty spaces? There’s nothing there — just eight holes in the head. I don’t get it . . . but unfortunately, I’ve got it — and bad! Damned sinuses!

Hope to be back to some semblance of normal tomorrow. ‘Til then, good night.

Brendochka
1/20/24

While I’ve been feeling really crummy these last few days, have I concentrated on finding things that make me feel better . . . a good book, a favorite old movie musical, calling a good friend? Oh, no . . . that would be the smart thing to do. Instead, I’ve been sitting around, hunkered down in front of the TV, watching reruns of reruns of the goriest episodes of Midsomer Murders. And while only halfway paying attention, I suddenly sat up straight, because someone on TV said something about “the amount of people . . .”

You know that awful reaction most people have to fingernails scratching a blackboard? Well, that’s how I react to some — not all, but certain specific — grammatical errors. They are more than just pet peeves to me . . . they are verbal felonies, punishable by death. And among those criminals, right up at the top of the list, are otherwise educated people — older people who went to school when they actually taught grammar and spelling — who don’t know the difference between “number” and “amount.” So I take it as my duty to enlighten you, hoping that my explanation doesn’t just confuse you all the more.

In a nutshell, numbers are for counting . . . right? Okay, good. And things that can be counted are, quite simply, individual items. Like books, fire hydrants, forks, trees, TV sets . . . and people. Get it? The number of people, not the amount. Easy peasy.

Well, then . . . when do we use “amount”? When you’re talking about a mass (not a mess) or the volume of something. Like the amount of water in the ocean, the amount of gin in the martini, or the amount of money the Pentagon spent on toilet seats last year (but the number of toilet seats). There’s the amount of light emitted by the stars; but the number of stars. The total amount of water in the glasses; but the number of glasses. The amount of time it takes to read this annoying article; but the number of insulting names you’re calling me while reading it.

That’s all. It’s simple. And if you enjoyed this lesson, maybe next time we’ll tackle the difference between “lie” and “lay,” or when to use an apostrophe, or . . . well, never mind. I’ll just surprise you.

TTFN,
Brendochka
1/21/24

What do you do when you’ve got a stinking’, rotten, blinding sinus headache, just pounding away at your nose, your eyes, your forehead, making you woozy, keeping you from sleeping? . . . You know what I’m talking about, right?

Well, what you do is turn your computer off, dim the room lights, swallow a couple of sinus tablets, and take the day off.

So, see you tomorrow, folks . . .

Brendochka
1/20/24

It was inevitable that this should happen one day. He was a big, drooling, affectionate brute who would hump anyone or anything that didn’t run away, and he couldn’t be allowed to continue to attack people, even though he meant no harm. It was either have him fixed, or risk an eventual lawsuit.

Oakie, of course, was a dog. A big, handsome boxer who weighed probably close to 80 pounds but thought he was a lap dog, as my legs would attest after that one episode when he tried to crawl up onto the chair with me. And he belonged to my boss, Walter Surrey. I’ve written about Walter in the past, and if you’ve read those episodes, you may recall that his sense of humor was legendary . . . which was fortunate for me in light of my own occasionally warped thought processes.

Anyway, there was poor, unsuspecting Oakie, about to face the ultimate sadist . . . the snip-snip artist . . . the de-baller who would irreversibly change him from a magnificent example of horny masculinity into a pitiful, sniveling, shame-faced eunuch. And Daddy couldn’t even be there with him, because he had to leave on a business trip to China. It would be up to his Mommy to see him through the worst time of his life.

But that didn’t mean Daddy didn’t love him. In fact, Walter was so worried about poor Oakie, he insisted that I send him (Walter, not Oakie) a telex — the fastest and most high-tech means of communication with China in those days before cell phones — as soon as I knew the surgery was over and Oakie was all right. And off Walter went to the Orient, leaving me to figure out how to word a telex that would surely be read by the censors in Beijing. This was going to be fun.

Walter’s wife Dana dutifully called to let me know that the procedure had gone well and Oakie had come through it like a champ . . . as yet blissfully unaware of the loss of his precious family jewels. And I sat down to compose the following message, sadistically envisioning the Chinese censors trying to figure out what the hell it meant:

“Oakie’s bark now one octave higher. Sends love and thanks. Brenda”

Walter told me later that the American clients with whom he was traveling had laughed themselves sick when they saw my telex and he explained who Oakie was. We never did hear anything from the Chinese officials.

It was only later that I realized I could have summed it all up in just two words: “Oakie doakie.”

Damn!

*. *. *

That all happened some 40 years ago, and Oakie has long since been reunited with his cojones on the other side of that legendary Rainbow Bridge. Walter left us in 1989; but stories of his mischief live on in memory, and I’ll probably toss a few more of those your way from time to time. But for now, I’ll be saying good night.

“Good night, Walter. Good night, Oakie . . . Oakie, no! Down, boy! Down! Bad boy, Oakie! . . . Walter, that is NOT funny!”

Brendochka
1/18/24

As I do every day, I’ve been scanning the headlines, both for my own edification and for any tidbits that might serve as inspiration for this blog. What I have found, however, is a weird conglomeration of ups and downs, highs and lows, leaving me with more questions than answers and a sense of futility at the thought of even trying to understand this world we live in (at least until Elon Musk succeeds in populating Mars).

So, since misery really does love company, I will graciously share with you this embarrassment of riches known as the daily news (all compliments of BBC News):

1) Russian poet Lev Rubinstein dies after car crash. This beloved poet and “key figure in the Soviet underground literary scene and a critic of President Vladimir Putin, has died six days after being hit by a car in Moscow, his daughter announced.” Mr. Rubinstein, 76, had been struck by a vehicle at an intersection in Moscow on January 8th and lay in a coma, in a Moscow hospital, for several days before succumbing to his injuries. Conclusion: Bad news, obviously . . . except perhaps for Vladimir Putin, who now has one less critic to deal with. Questions: Why is there no information as to the way in which the accident occurred, whether the driver was charged, etc.? Am I simply paranoid after reading about all the recent mysterious deaths of other Putin opponents? Well, maybe . . .

2) Iceland lava slowing down after day of destruction. In this literary masterpiece of good news / bad news, we learn that — while the lava flow from the latest volcano eruption in southwest Iceland is slowing (good), it is only doing so after causing the destruction of homes in the town of Grindavik and the evacuation of the entire local population (very bad). BBC News was told by volcanologist Evgenia Ilyinskaya that “the peninsula could be entering a period of frequent eruptions, known as the New Reykjanes Fires . . . eruptions could take place ‘every few months or once a year for several decades or several centuries.’” Conclusion: Obviously horrible news. Question: Why on earth would anyone choose to live in the shadow of an active volcano? Hello? It’s not like they didn’t know it was there. The displaced families have my total sympathy, of course; but I strongly urge them to consider moving while they can.

3) Houthi missile hits US-owned cargo ship off Yemen. Very bad, obviously. But here’s my two-part question: Who are the Houthi (Houthis?) and why are they suddenly doing this? My mind is already cluttered with too many actual and potential wars; I don’t think I can handle another one.

4) Iran extends Nobel Prize winner’s prison sentence. In this story, which sounds like it’s right out of a Russian newspaper, this poor lady keeps getting more and more time tacked onto her sentence for allegedly bashing Iran’s “tyrannical” government and advocating for women’s rights, among other things. No questions on this one; it’s an all too familiar tale of actual tyranny and oppression being used to deal with legitimate opposition in the only way the government knows how.

5) Germany’s far right seek revolution in farmers’ protests. “Far-right groups have discussed toppling the German government as they seek to harness the anger of ongoing farmer protests over subsidy cuts.” I don’t know what to say about this one, except perhaps . . . Somebody warn the Kaiser!

6) King Frederik: Tens of thousands turn out for succession. At last, some happy news. All the world loves a handsome king and his beautiful wife. And at last, a monarch — his mother, Queen Margrethe — who knows when to step down. She’s 83, she has a bad back, she has been on the throne of Denmark for 52 years, and she’s decided it’s now her son’s turn. Good for you, Your Majesty. And now that you have a bit more spare time, could you please explain this concept to some of our over-aged politicians in the United States? We’d greatly appreciate it.

It is rather a shame, though, that the new King has to be the tenth Frederik of Denmark. Am I the only one who thinks his written name — Frederik X — looks like a subsidiary of an Elon Musk corporation? Yeah . . . probably. But the whole Musk “X” thing is, to me, like a case of hives — it just keeps spreading, and spreading, and spreading . . .

*. *. *

But I digress; and this could go on forever (much like those hives). So I’ll just give you one last headline and let you decide for yourselves whether you want to check out the details.

7) ‘God gave us Trump’ – evangelicals key in Iowa vote. He won the Iowa caucuses. I have absolutely no questions, and no comment. My brain has just shut down.

Good night.

Brendochka
1/17/24