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?

Brendochka
2/16/24

They have finally killed him. The hearts of good people everywhere are shattered. Russia will not be free in our lifetimes.

We mourn with the Navalny family . . . Your unbearable loss is also ours.

Brendochka

2/16/24

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!

“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.

TTFN,
Brendochka
2/16/24

Dental surgery ain’t no fun.
I thought I’d be happy when it was done.

The doctor was great, causing minimal pain,
Thanks to liberal doses of novocaine.

But the aftermath was much, much worse;
I felt I’d been struck with an evil curse.

It wasn’t just my mouth that was sore;
The pain in my face was like few pains before.

But I’ve survived worse things in the past,
And pain killers helped me sleep at last.

No, it wasn’t the soreness, or even the bleeding,
That sent my heart rate off and speeding.

It was when I looked in the mirror that night,
And had myself a terrible fright,

For there, staring back from the glass on the wall
Was someone I didn’t know at all.

A swollen mess, all puffy and bruised,
I clearly had been most awfully misused.

Like something out of a horror flick,
Just seeing it made me feel quite sick.

Today I don’t recognize my own face;
Of the real me there is hardly a trace.

I know, as they say, that this too shall pass,
Like a nasty cold, or intestinal gas.

And in the meantime, I’ll stay in the house
And try to be as still as a mouse,

So no one outside has to look at this face,
Which really is such an awful disgrace.

And after a while, like an appendectomy,
I’ll be glad I let them make a wreck of me,

Because the result will be good in the end,
Once everything’s had enough time to mend.

But for the moment, I have to say . . .
There are much better ways of spending a day!

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
2/15/24

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