And it was as though that writer from 400 years ago was talking about me. Because that’s exactly what yesterday — and a lot of other days — turned out to be like. It was just one more of those days in a week of “spuddling.”
You know how, when you get up in the morning (or, in my case, around noon-ish), having made a to-do list before turning in last night, you think you’re raring to go. You’ve got the whole day to yourself. You’re going to toss a load of laundry into the washing machine, clean out the fridge, and — time permitting — get those boxes of clothes you haven’t worn for the past two years over to Goodwill. So you head for the bathroom, do whatever it is you do first thing in the a.m., and go to the kitchen for a bit of breakfast.
While you’re eating, you have time to check the 122 email messages that have popped up overnight, deleting all the ones from companies you once bought something from eight years ago who want you back as a customer; the pleas for political contributions that may or may not be from the actual candidates; the reminder from your dentist that you’re six months past due for a cleaning; the offers that start out “Congratulations, you have been chosen …”; Amazon telling you they’ve found something you absolutely, positively must have or you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life; and the extra special ones about medical conditions you probably don’t have, like irritable bowel syndrome, psoriasis, or — my personal favorite — erectile dysfunction. (I’m female . . . okay?)
So, what’s first? Oh, yeah . . . the laundry. But wait a second. What was that news flash about Ukraine, or China, or the White House? Maybe you should take a few minutes to catch up on the day’s news.
Finally, you make it to the laundry room and get the washer going, when you hear the dog whining and you see her standing by the door with her hind legs crossed. So out you go for a little fresh air while the princess sniffs out the only spot in the entire county that is worthy of receiving her poop. Ten minutes ago she couldn’t hold it for another second, but now she has time to check every tree and bush and grassy spot between here and Guam.
And by the time you get back home, you’re hungry again, so you pop into the kitchen to make a sandwich . . . which, of course, you eat while again checking and deleting the 47 new emails that arrived while you were out on poop patrol. As you’re putting the rest of the lunch meat back into the fridge, you remember that you were supposed to be cleaning it out today, but you can’t do it right now because you just have to write something for your blog about that news item you spotted.
However, on your way back to your desk, you realize you’ve snagged a fingernail on something, so you detour to the bathroom to fetch your nail file, and decide you may as well go for the full manicure while you’re at it since your nails have gotten too long to type anyway. That’s kind of annoying, so you turn on the TV to take your mind off the boredom of clipping and filing your nails, and you get involved in this movie you know you’ve seen before but can’t remember how it ends.
Two hours later, as you’re watching the credits roll to try and catch the name of that one actor who looked so familiar, it’s time to fix dinner. What . . . already?!! The fridge hasn’t been cleaned out, the article for your blog isn’t written, the boxes of clothes are still in the corner, the dog is whining again . . . and you realize that you’ve spent the past six hours doing this . . .
. . . and accomplishing next to nothing. So you vow at least to get the blog taken care of after dinner tonight, and tend to the fridge tomorrow. What you need — after cleaning up the dinner dishes and posting a few well-turned paragraphs for your very small handful of readers — is a nice hot shower and a good night’s sleep.
And as you lie back in bed and pull the blankets up to your chin, your eyelids begin to feel heavy, and you’re thinking happy thoughts about all you’re going to accomplish tomorrow, and . . .
OH, SHIT!!! . . . the laundry! It’s still in the washing machine!
But what the hell . . . it will still be there tomorrow. I can give it another rinse before putting it into the dryer . . . right after I clean out the fridge.
*. *. *
Let’s face it: some days are just like that. We all have them. There’s no use agonizing over it; better to go with the flow.
In the words of the immortal Scarlett O’Hara: Tomorrow is another day.
With my luck, there probably isn’t . . . but that’s all right. There will be considerable satisfaction in simply having led Interpol to the perpetrator.
This was a crime committed, not here in the U.S., but in the U.K., in 2019. The thieves were actually apprehended, and just this week went on trial for having purloined a priceless potty from 18th-century Blenheim Palace. The item in question: a 200-pound solid gold toilet, insured for $6 million, which has never been recovered.
And I think I know where it is.
The Golden Throne
But first, a little background.
This ultimate luxury was created as a humorous statement piece by Italian artist Maurizio Cattelan in 2016. He titled it “America” — which tells you what he thought of us Americans (or at least the wealthiest of us). It debuted at the Guggenheim Museum in New York, where — fully functional — it replaced a porcelain toilet in a museum restroom. The Guggenheim’s website explains its purpose as follows:
“For ‘America’ Cattelan replaced the toilet in this restroom with a fully functional replica cast in 18-karat gold, making available to the public an extravagant luxury product seemingly intended for the 1 percent. Its participatory nature, in which viewers are invited to make use of the fixture individually and privately, allows for an experience of unprecedented intimacy with a work of art. Cattelan’s toilet offers a wink to the excesses of the art market but also evokes the American dream of opportunity for all — its utility ultimately reminding us of the inescapable physical realities of our shared humanity.”
When the exhibit closed in 2019, the comely commode was moved to Blenheim Palace near Oxford, U.K., “the traditional seat of the Dukes of Marlborough where Winston Churchill was born.” [1440 Daily Digest, February 26, 2025.]
Get it? . . . “the traditional seat of the Dukes of Marlborough . . .”
Sir Winston Churchill
Mr. Churchill was well known for his droll sense of humor, but I’m not sure what he would have thought of an 18K gold toilet in his ancestral home . . . though I’m reasonably certain he would have found something appropriately caustic to say about it. He might even have asked why there wasn’t a matching bidet.
*. *. *
But what about my having solved the mystery of the missing treasure? It is generally thought to have been melted down and sold for the value of the gold, rather than as an artwork. But I don’t think so. I think it’s very much in one piece, here on the other side of the Pond, which is where Interpol enters the picture.
I wonder if they’ve checked the throne room in the West Wing at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C. Truthfully . . . isn’t it just the sort of thing that might have been installed for the royal ass-in-residence?
The six-hour meeting between Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov and U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio, held yesterday in Istanbul, Turkiye, focused on rebuilding diplomatic relations between the two countries, with particular emphasis on resolving disputes concerning their respective missions in Washington and Moscow.
Marco Rubio and Sergei Lavrov
And, much like their get-together in Saudi Arabia nine days earlier, it ended with . . . well, not much, really. Vladimir Putin’s comments at a meeting in Moscow with the Federal Security Service (FSB) included the following:
“I note that the first contacts with the new American administration inspire certain hopes. There is a reciprocal mood to work to restore intergovernmental ties and to gradually resolve the huge number of systemic and strategic problems that have built up in the world’s security architecture.” [RFE/RL, February 27, 2025.]
And Maria Zakharova, Russia’s Foreign Ministry spokesperson, added that Moscow hopes the meeting will be just the first of a series of discussions “to bring the U.S. side and us closer to settling differences, building confidence.” [Id.]
So, basically, we’ll sling the spaghetti against the wall and see what sticks . . . right?
Well, not quite. After all, even a personal relationship that’s been on the rocks for three years isn’t likely to be all sweetness and light again after just a few hours of counseling. It sure as hell is going to take more than a couple of half-day meetings to mend something as complex as U.S.-Russian relations.
And in order to mend any serious rift, there has to be a measure of trust between the parties. If one spouse, for example, has been a lying, cheating, abusive s.o.b., it’s going to take some time before he or she can earn the trust of the other spouse. And if they’ve both been lying, cheating . . .
Well, never mind. Suffice it to say that diplomacy-speak is, by design, the very definition of ambiguity. Every word counts . . . and in the case of the U.S. and Russia, both sides know it. In fact, following the Riyadh meeting on February 18th, which focused on the war in Ukraine, Secretary Rubio said:
“We need to know, and the president wants to know early in his presidency, are the Russians interested in ending this war or are they not. President Trump has made deals his entire life. He’s not going to get suckered into a bad deal.” [Id.]
Well, let’s hope not!
And dear old Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov had this to say about Russia’s consistent demand that Ukraine cede its territories of Donetsk, Lukhansk, Zaporizhzhya and Kherson in their entirety:
“The territories which have become subjects of the Russian Federation, which are inscribed in our country’s constitution, are an inseparable part of our country. This is undeniable and non-negotiable.” [Id.]
Well, Dima, I have this to say about that: You’re full of crap.
*. *. *
But entirely aside from the issues involved in international diplomacy, let us not overlook one major question:
Should we be talking to Russia at all?
The U.S. and our Western allies have spent the past three years, and hundreds of billions of dollars, defending Ukraine against the illegal, immoral, and unforgivable invasion of its sovereign territory by Vladimir Putin. Trade restrictions and other sanctions against Russia and countless responsible individuals have made life difficult for Putin and his minions. He has been ostracized by virtually the entire free world, unable to travel freely as he might wish because of the outstanding warrant issued by the International Criminal Court.
But with one phone call, all of that effort to rein in Putin’s brutal assault on Ukraine has been flushed down the toilet by his good friend in the White House. And the continuing meetings will only serve to play further into Putin’s hands, bringing him back to his former seat of world power.
That’s far worse than diplomacy by ambiguity; it’s diplomacy by betrayal . . . betrayal, not of one’s adversaries, but of one’s own friends and allies.
And after that, who can ever hope to be trusted again?
To the Honorable Chief Justice Roberts and Associate Justices Thomas, Alito, Sotomayor, Kagan, Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, Barrett, and Jackson:
I spent more than half of my life working in the legal field. From the very first, the members of the Supreme Court were my idols, my professional role models: the likes of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., Earl Warren, Felix Frankfurter, and William Rehnquist. They were men (no women on the Court yet) who were devoted to the honest, objective, non-partisan, completely apolitical dispensation of justice for all.
So, with all due respect . . . what the hell has happened? Where did the road to Justice take a 180-degree turn from Capitol Hill back downtown to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue? When did partisan politics begin to enter into the U.S. judicial system?
And, most puzzling to me: What are you afraid of? Your jobs are for life. You can’t be fired. What hold does the current administration have over each and every one of you?
You, who are addressed as “Honorables,” are the last hope of this great nation of ours. When are you going to stand up and do whatever is necessary to save us from disaster . . . to uphold our Constitution as you have sworn to do? Or are we, after all, truly lost?
In memory of this great woman, and for the sake of all Americans, I beg you to come to your senses, stand tall, and do the right thing, as she would have done.
To begin with, let me assure you that I don’t think there is anything funny about a person dying in midair on a Qatar Airways flight from Melbourne, Australia, to Doha, Qatar. And in no way do I mean to make light of the woman’s misfortune, or her family’s loss. But what followed her collapse — the way the situation was handled — and the unsuspecting passenger who . . . well, that’s a whole other story.
And that is where . . . I’m sorry, really, but I just can’t stop laughing . . . the whole episode becomes so . . . oh my God! . . . I keep imagining myself in this poor man’s place, and . . . no, sorry, but I just can’t help it.
Okay . . . under control now.
*. *. *
I’ve never flown on Qatar Air, so I can’t speak from personal experience. But I’ve never heard anything negative about it, and I’d guess that Mitchell Ring and Jennifer Colin hadn’t either, or they might have booked on Qantas instead. But whatever the reason for their choice, there they were — en route to their ultimate destination of Venice, Italy, via Doha, for their dream vacation — when this lady’s life came to a sudden end, with some four hours of flying time left before they were to reach Doha. [Maia Davies, BBC News, February 26, 2025.]
Now, the unnamed woman — let’s call her Mary — certainly did not choose to collapse in the aisle next to Mitchell and Jennifer; that is just where her life happened to come to an end. The crew is said to have done their best to revive her, but to no avail. Her time had simply run out.
Airlines have protocols for dealing with all sorts of emergencies, of course . . . including sudden deaths. But there were extra problems in Mary’s case. Apparently, she was a very large woman. Add to that the fact that she was now, quite literally, dead weight, and moving her proved next to impossible. In fact, Mitchell later said in an interview on Current Affair that “they couldn’t get her through the aisle.” [Id.]
It seems they were trying to move her toward business class . . . I guess you get an automatic upgrade if you die on a Qatar Air flight. That’s a nice thought . . . though I can only imagine how the passengers who had paid for business class seats would have felt. But never mind; they were unable to get her there in any event.
Somehow, while all of this was going on, Mitchell’s travel companion, Jennifer, had been moved to another seat. I’m not sure whether she had to climb over Mary’s rather sizable body, or if she was air-lifted by the crew; but in any case, she was out of the line of fire.
It’s also not clear why they didn’t ask Mitchell to move as well, since there were other empty seats. Frankly, I think Mitch and Jen (I feel I know them pretty well by this time) should have been the ones upgraded to business class; but that is now a moot point.
Anyway, Mitch says they asked him, “Can you move over please?” and, having no idea what their plan was, he replied, “Yes, no problem.” My guess is that he thought they just wanted him to be out of the way in case Mary fell over as they were trying to lift her.
But . . . no. What they wanted was his seat, because then, in Mitchell’s own words, “they placed the lady in the chair I was in.” And poor Mitch — having accommodatingly moved over — found himself seated next to Mary’s corpse. Fortunately, someone had thought to cover her with blankets. [Id.]
Well, probably not that well-wrapped . . . but covered.
Now, here is where the story gets a little fuzzy. The report doesn’t mention whether Mitch and Jen were in a row of two seats or three across. Presumably, Mitch, when asked to move over, had to move away from the aisle and into a window seat. Since Jen had been relocated, either Mitch moved into Jen’s vacated seat and Mary took Mitch’s place, or (if three seats across) the crew then plopped Mary’s oversized corpse into the two seats previously occupied by the once happy couple. Either way, Mitch and Jen were now separated and couldn’t even hold each other’s hands in consolation. And Mitch was totally, impenetrably blocked in by an unmoving, unmovablecadaver.
So, there sat Mitch with Mary, obviously in silence, for the duration of the flight. And when the plane landed in Doha four hours later, the already difficult situation inexplicably got even worse. The passengers were instructed to stay in their seats while the medical staff and police came on board . . . as though Mitch would have been able to get out in any event, being blocked in by Mount Mary.
And when the ambulance staff arrived, they immediately pulled the blankets off of the blissfully-unaware Mary, thus exposing her dead face to the world . . . and, most closely, to Mitch.
*. *. *
Now, by this time you’re probably wondering why I find this tragedy to be so hilarious. There are actually a couple of reasons. One is that I have an innately twisted sense of humor. Always have. Can’t help it.
The second reason is that, when I mentally put myself in Mitch’s place, the bizarre way in which the situation was handled just becomes more and more like a slapstick comedy routine. I mean, think about it . . .
First, if Mary was too large to be moved through the aisle to business class, how was she managing to maneuver from her seat(s) to wherever she was headed? Presumably, the only place she had to go would be to the rest room. And — again, I’ve never flown Qatar Air so I don’t know —but would she even have fit into the notoriously cramped airline facilities? The mental images conjured up by my fevered brain at this point are not something I want to be forever stuck in my mind.
Second, Mitch had also indicated there were other empty seats in their section. When they moved Jen, why didn’t they also move Mitch out of the way? Could they not lift him over the obstruction then lying in the aisle? Wasn’t that gender discrimination?
So I have this picture of the hapless Mitch looking on as he is hemmed in by Mary for four hours. What if he had had to use the rest room? Were the crew able to serve him a meal, snack, beverages . . . maybe oxygen . . . during the remainder of the flight? And if they had, would he even have felt like eating . . . or breathing? Did they even think to toss him a couple of bottles of booze from the mini-bar?
And when they finally landed and the medics uncovered Mary’s body — likely already in the early stages of rigor mortis — did Mitch just sit there and stare out the window, or did he watch the proceedings in grisly fascination?
I mean . . . what the hell were these people thinking??!!!!
*. *. *
I have seen dead people. (No, not like the movie — I don’t have visitations from spirits.) But I have attended far too many funerals with open caskets, and I have had to say goodbye to my mother and sister. In fact, when I was just eight years old, my great-grandmother died while I was sitting by her bed holding her hand. I don’t freak out. So the idea of being on a plane — an enclosed space — with a recently-deceased person, while sad, would not have been overly traumatic for me.
But would I have chosen dead Mary as my seat mate for four long hours? Uh . . . nope. I’m not squeamish; but I’m also not ghoulish. I might, however, in a mischievous moment, have tried interacting with her . . . just to see the reactions of the other passengers, and hopefully to lighten the general atmosphere a bit:
“Hey, Mary, are you feeling any better? Were you on vacation? Seen any good movies lately? You didn’t have Covid, did you?”
But everyone is different. Mitch, who sounds far more reasonable than I, apparently found this incident traumatic, telling Current Affair:
“We should be contacted to make sure, do you need some support, do you need some counselling [sic]? We totally understand that we can’t hold the airline responsible for the poor lady’s death, but there has to be a protocol to look after the customers on board.” [Id.]
And he makes a good point. So, I have a few suggestions for the folks at Qatar Airlines.
First, perhaps you could seat all extra-large passengers next to the rest rooms, so they don’t have to block the aisle on their way to use the facilities. (It’s not body-shaming . . . just common sense.) And maybe they could be instructed to remain in their seats and not walk about for any other reason, just in case. Of course, there will be an immediate reaction from all of those people who are so hung up on political correctness and equal rights; but I presume you have a Legal Department to deal with that.
Second, when relocating a corpse on a flight, you might want to check with the adjacent person or people before assuming they can deal with being in such close proximity. I mean . . . really?!!
Third, in the event — as in Mary’s case — you might have an obstruction in the aisle (human or otherwise) that is too large and too heavy to move, perhaps you could keep some sort of portable ramp onboard . . . Nah, forget that one. The flight attendants would never be able to get the service carts over it without losing a few ice cubes.
And finally, let’s remember that Mary was dead. She was in no hurry to meet the emergency medical crew. Maybe it would have been better to off-load the passengers first — even to a holding area where the police could conduct any necessary interviews — before exposing her to all and sundry.
I’m sure Mitch would have found some way to get out of his seat.
Why do I keep saying I’m going to take a day off to do absolutely nothing? I know it’s not going to happen.
This lasted for about an hour
Today’s restus interruptus was not actually breaking news . . . for which I am very grateful, because that kind of news is almost always bad. But I happened to see a video (yes, I did peek at my phone once or twice) of on-the-street interviews by a reporter from RadioFreeEurope/RadioLiberty (RFE/RL) with people in three cities in northwestern Russia: Moscow, Pskov and Vologda. The question they were being asked was what they thought about the war in Ukraine . . . or, in Kremlin-speak, Putin’s “special military operation” . . . and the answers, while guarded, were revealing of the propaganda they’re being fed by state-run media.
I took some screen shots showing the English translations of their comments to share with you. So, without further ado, I present to you . . . improvisational Russia.
THE PEACEMAKERS FROM PSKOV:
*. *. *
THE MOSCOW OPTIMISTS:
*. *. *
THE MOSCOW WARRIOR (WITH A FUTURE AS A STAND-UP COMIC)
*. *. *
AND TO SUM IT UP, THE WISE MAN FROM VOLOGDA:
*. *. *
And I can’t think of a single thing to add to that.
Since the defeat of Hitler’s Nazi regime, Germany has rebuilt itself, becoming one of the world’s great industrial, economic and political powers, and one of America’s staunchest allies. Indeed — when the horrors of World War II were still fresh in everyone’s memories, the U.S. aided in Germany’s renewal by including it as one of the principal beneficiaries of the Marshall Plan. Without Hitler, we could become friends again.
Until now, anyway.
German Chancellor-elect Friedrich Merz
In the wake of the chaos being created by the new administration in Washington, Germany has also seen a shift to the right following its recent election with the emergence of Friedrich Merz’s conservative, center-right CDU/CSU as the majority party in the Bundestag, having won 28.5% of the vote.
An additional concern — and not a small one — is the second-place win of 20.8% of the vote by the far-right, pro-Russian AfD (“Alternative for Germany”) party, which will factor heavily into Merz’s efforts to form his coalition government.
Alice Weidel
AfD is headed by 46-year-old Alice Weidel, a former Goldman Sachs analyst who holds degrees in economics and business administration, and a doctorate in international development. The party is vocally Eurosceptic, and opposes immigration into Germany — especially of Muslims. Germany’s domestic intelligence agency has labelled the party as a “suspected extremist organization.”
*. *. *
Even setting aside AfD’s potential influence, Friedrich Merz — much like Donald Trump — has begun his term as Chancellor with a bang. But it is Trump himself who is the cause of Merz’s turn away from ardent Atlanticism to a more “Europe first” stance. During a post-election debate on Sunday, his comments included this:
“I would never have thought that I would have to say something like this in a TV show but, after Donald Trump’s remarks last week … it is clear that this government does not care much about the fate of Europe. My absolute priority will be to strengthen Europe as quickly as possible so that, step by step, we can really achieve independence from the USA.” [Katya Adler, BBC, February 24, 2025.]
Europe is stunned by Trump’s stated intention to demolish the security guarantees that have existed between the European nations and the United States for the past 80 years, leaving their continent feeling, at the very least, exposed and insecure. Talks have already begun in the direction of forming an independent European defense capability . . . post haste.
Donald Trump may still be living in a world where the United States, because of its geographical separation from Europe on one side and Asia on the other, did not personally suffer the horrors of two world wars. But if so, it’s a dream world.
Europe has never had any such illusions (or, more accurately, delusions). Without the strength of the U.S. in NATO, they would be far more vulnerable to the empirical designs of Vladimir Putin. And Germany is dealing with specific concerns over what will happen to the 35,000 American military troops stationed there . . . particularly in light of Trump’s intended downsizing of the entire U.S. military.
Not to mention his undisguised renewal of his earlier friendship with Putin . . . a whole other nightmare scenario.
*. *. *
Chancellor Merz is not the first European leader to have expressed dismay at the stunning news coming out of Washington these days; and he won’t be the last. But their countries have each other, and they will band together in their own defense.
Who will the United States have when no one else wants anything to do with us? Canada? Mexico? Trump has already alienated them.With the current assault on our own government agencies and systems, we will be too weak to stand alone.
Isolationism in the 21st century is an impossibility. And Donald Trump needs to face that fact before it’s too late.
I call him Cassius, because . . . well, because he looks as though he might be plotting Caesar’s murder.
Gaius Cassius Cassowary
All right . . . enough Shakespeare, enough Cassius and Brutus and stabbing in the Forum. This is about the star of tonight’s show.
I just happened across an article about “the only animal Australians are afraid of” . . . and it turns out to be a bird. Granted, a very large bird, with a fearsome beak, terrifying horns, and talons that will not just scare the crap out of you . . . they’ll rip it out.
Now, from everything I’ve read, and heard from people who have been fortunate enough to visit Down Under, Australians are a hardy lot. They have to be, because they share their beautiful country with some very exotic — and really frightening — wildlife, including every kind of poisonous snake and spider known to mankind (that last one being my personal worst nightmare) . . . and, as though that weren’t enough, they’ve even made up a fictitious creature they call the Drop Bear.
Someone’s Rendering of a Drop Bear
But the one they’re said to be most afraid of is today’s subject: the cassowary. Like its better-known cousins, the emu and ostrich, the cassowary is flightless; but don’t ever try to outrun it, because it can clock up to 30 miles an hour on foot.
They tend to prefer life in the deep rainforest, away from humans (and who can blame them for that?). They’re very family-oriented: like penguins, the females lay the eggs and then leave the rest up to dad; the males incubate the eggs and raise the hatched chicks. I rather like that idea.
Itty-Bitty Cassowaries
They’re frugivores — the animal kingdom’s equivalent of the human “fruitarian” — consuming dozens of fruits each day and then pooping out the seeds, which then scatter and regrow. So they’re very good for the Australian ecosystem. But they’re not above grabbing a burger if you happen to have stopped by McDonald’s on the way to the forest.
Don’t let the cuteness of the chicks fool you, either; they will grow up to be just as dangerous as their parents, but apparently only if they feel threatened . . . or hungry. According to Peter Rowles, founder of the Community for Coastal & Cassowary Conservation (C4, for short), “Many more cassowaries die from humans than humans die from cassowaries.” [Lilit Marcus, CNN, February 24, 2025.]
A 2001 Journal of Zoology study said that humans offering food to cassowaries accounted for 75% of the dangerous encounters between man and bird. “The feeding of cassowaries appears to change their natural behavior, making them bold and aggressive,” according to author Christopher P. Kofron. He added that “in the single fatal attack, the victim was trying to kill the cassowary.” [Id.]
Clearly a case of self-defense. That’s at least somewhat comforting, don’t you agree?
Oh . . . apparently you don’t! Well, okay, then.
*. *. *
One of the world’s largest birds, the cassowary looks like a leftover from a prehistoric age. It’s as tall as a person, has glossy black feathers and piercing eyes, walks (and runs) on two feet, can weigh up to 140 pounds, and has a large, dagger-like claw on each foot.
Andrew Mack spent five years studying the cassowaries in the wild in Papua New Guinea. He says, “There’s just something primeval about them. They look like living dinosaurs.” [Id.]
Next Stop: Jurassic Park
So if you happen to be strolling through the Australian rainforest one day and run across one of Big Bird’s ancient kin, what do you do? Peter Rowles’ advice is this:
“If you encounter a cassowary in the wild, first thing is put your hands behind your back. Be as boring as you can be, so you’re not attracting that cassowary’s attention. Move behind a tree. Just blend into the environment. Don’t scream and yell and wave your arms around. If you’ve got food in your hand, put it in your pocket, put it behind you, put it out of sight. It’s better to do that and be boring than to be seen as a potential source of more food.” [Id.]
Uh . . . yeah. Good advice. However, I tend to be more the run-around-screaming-and-waving-my-arms sort when suddenly confronted by something that looks like this . . .
. . . and isn’t in a cage in a zoo. So maybe I’ll just stay out of the rainforest, if that’s all right.
*. *. *
While boning up on this extraordinary creature, however, I began thinking of the late, great Ogden Nash and what he would have made of our friend Cassius; and I suddenly had an urge to break into verse (of a sort). I could never hope to compete with his brilliant wit, but here’s what came to my mind in the wee hours of the morning:
If you encounter a cassowary, You’ll see that it looks very scary. Its beak is long, its talons deadly, Its disposition . . . not so friendly.
So my advice, and you should try it, Is hide behind a tree, be quiet; Don’t run around or shout or squeal, Or you might be that bird’s next meal.
See? I told you I was no Ogden Nash. But be honest . . . it took your mind off the daily news for a few minutes, didn’t it?
But Donald Trump said so, and therefore it must be true . . . right?
Nah. What he said last week — after threatening the BRICS member nations with 150% tariffs if they attempted to promote an alternative currency to the U.S. dollar — was this:
“BRICS states were trying to destroy our dollar. They wanted to create a new currency. So when I came in, the first thing I said was any BRICS state that even mentions the destruction of the dollar will be charged a 150% tariff, and we don’t want your goods and the BRICS states just broke up. . . . I don’t know what the hell happened to them. We haven’t heard from the BRICS states lately.” [NDTV.com, February 21, 2022.]
It’s difficult to separate the truth from the imaginary in anything said by someone who can’t remember his own words. Because in January, Trump had threatened — not 150% — but a 100% tariff if the BRICS nations wanted to “play games.” [NDTV.com, February 14, 2022.] At a press briefing at that time, he was asked whether he wanted to dismantle BRICS or become a part of it, to which he responded:
“I don’t care, but BRICS was put there for a bad purpose and most of those people don’t want it. They don’t even want to talk about it now. They’re afraid to ask about it because I told them if they want to play games with the dollar, then they’re going to be hit with a 100 per cent tariff. The day they mention that they want to do it and they will come back and say we beg you, we beg you not to do this. BRICS is dead since I mentioned that. BRICS died the minute I mentioned that and know I remember when Obama and Biden, in particular, I guess he said that oh, they have us over a barrel.” [Id.] [Bold emphasis is mine.]
I just want to know one thing: What on earth has Donald Trump been smoking?!! Because there is not one phrase in all of that gobbledegook that makes an ounce of sense.
To begin with, BRICS is neither dead nor dying. If they were, would they have added five new members — Egypt, Ethiopia, Indonesia, Iran and the United Arab Emirates — since last year, doubling their size? And would they have added a new membership category — “Partner States” — in 2024 to accommodate the integration of prospective members?
Those Partner States are effectively observers, not yet officially part of the BRICS bloc, but guaranteed of support from the full members. Thus far, some 22 countries have been invited to become Partner States. Only three — Algeria, Turkiye and Vietnam — had not yet confirmed their status as of mid-January.
BRICS 2024 Summit (Indonesia had not yet become a member)
And if, as Trump would like to believe, BRICS were indeed finished, would they even now be busily planning their 2025 Summit in July, to be hosted in Brazil?
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To be sure, Donald Trump is not wrong in considering BRICS a threat to U.S. supremacy — in fact, to the entire structure of the Western world. It was founded by Vladimir Putin in 2009 for the sole purpose of building an organization strong enough to run counter to NATO, the EU, the G7, and — who knows? — possibly even the United Nations.
But if Trump thinks throwing tariffs at the member states is going to cause them to put their chairs back on the table and slink home in defeat, he is living in an alternate reality.
Because, with Vladimir Putin at the helm, it isn’t going to be that easy.
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