I sat down yesterday afternoon to choose my subject matter(s) for today’s post(s), and I found I had six tentative titles ready. And they were all stale.
Oh, they’re current news, all right. It’s just that they’re ongoing news — subjects I’ve covered, perhaps over and over again — and all I can do now is continue to update them.
Well, yes . . . updates are important. If the subjects are significant, then keeping current is certainly beneficial. But, from fear of boring you (and myself) with the same-old-same-old, I’ve decided to give you a quick synopsis of each of the six items today, as I go off in search of some new news to sink my teeth into.
So here are the six for today, at mach speed:
*. *. *
The Ghost of Yevgeny Prigozhin. He’s still dead, but his Wagner Group of mercenaries is very much alive, and mostly doing their dirty work in Africa, under the complete control of Vladimir Putin’s government. Surprise, surprise!
Yevgeny Prigozhin
Stuck In Space. More problems for Boeing and the Starliner astronauts on the International Space Station. Scary.
International Space Station
The Reemergence of the Hostages. They’re recuperating, making plans for continuing their opposition to Putin’s regime in the future, even from exile. Good news!
Vladimir Kara-Murza, Andrei Pivovarov, Ilya Yashin
“Putin’s Brain.” A lunatic named Aleksandr Dugin apparently has Vladimir Putin’s attention. I may have to follow up on this one; he’s not your run-of-the-mill nut job. Very scary.
Aleksandr Dugin: 21st Century Rasputin?
Hungary Is At It Again. Viktor Orban, playing footsie with immigrants from Russia and Belarus. The EU isn’t happy. No surprise there.
Viktor Orban, Prime Minister of Hungary
Dear Mr. Peskov. I’m sure my readers are sick of hearing about the Kremlin spokesman, and wondering why I find him so interesting. I’d like the answer to that myself.
Dmitry Peskov, Kremlin Spokesman
*. *. *
So there you have it. You see? I can be brief. Not very informative, but certainly brief.
1751: A daughter poisons her father. A tale worthy of a Midsomer Murders episode, this real-life British drama involves a 26-year-old spinster, a wealthy father, an adulterous fortune-hunter, an illicit affair, betrayal, arsenic . . . everything but incest. And nearly 300 years ago. What fun!
1917: China declares war on Germany. World War I. China was on our side back then. Ah, the good old days.
1935: FDR signs Social Security Act. And a good thing, too. But you still can’t live on it.
1945: Japan’s surrender made public. World War II finally ends. Amen.
1985: Michael Jackson purchases the publishing rights to the majority of the Beatles’ catalog. If you happen to have $47 Million hanging around . . .
1994: The terrorist known as Carlos the Jackal is arrested. That’s a relief. (Aside: I knew someone years ago who claimed to have attended university with him. If true, that means I was just one degree of separation from one of the most notorious . . . Holy crap!)
Ilyich Ramirez Sanchez, a/k/a Carlos the Jackal
2003: Blackout hits northeast United States. It’s a mess in New York, Ohio, parts of Canada, and more. And in May of 2004, the birth rate in those same areas suddenly surges. Hmmm . . . coincidence?
On August 3rd, I reported that this Canadian family, Arend and Anneesa Feenstra and eight of their nine children — who had blithely (and blindly) emigrated to Russia in February of this year to find peace, prosperity, and freedom from “wokeness” — had apparently been on the verge of being ejected from their new, ultra-conservative Russian paradise because of visa problems. And then I lost track of them.
The Feenstra Children: “Smile, kids . . . or else!”
But thanks to the wonders of YouTube — which apparently still works in Russia, at least for the moment — they have not vanished from the face of the Earth. They have a vlog they call Countryside Acres, with an apparent 169,000-plus followers. I tried listening to one of Arend and Anneesa’s broadcasts, but gave up after about five minutes of watching them sit there, mutely waiting to get things working properly, and another five minutes of Arend fumbling through a description of a day in which they apparently did nothing, but were very grateful for the opportunity to live in Russia.
But I’m persistent, and I next found an online site called “Wonkette News,” which contained a recent article (June 8th) by one Marcie Jones, who has obviously been in touch with the Feenstras. What a relief! They’re all alive, still in Russia, and . . . well, let’s begin where we last left off.
*. *. *
For starters, two things went wrong. First, the Russian government lied. They always lie. They lied about their “special military operation” in Ukraine; they lied about the cause of Alexei Navalny’s death; hell, they even lie about their crop yields. So no one — other than the Feenstras themselves — should be surprised to learn that what had supposedly been promised them by the Russian government was just a pipe dream.
“This way to Nizhny Novgorod: 7,565 km.”
And second, the Feenstras are clearly not the brightest people; they didn’t do their homework before making the biggest decision of their — and their eight children’s — lives. But you can’t fix stupid.
Now they’re stuck, and they’re trying to make a go of it. They’ve learned that they needed to pass a Russian language proficiency test in order to emigrate; and they’ve also learned that as foreigners they couldn’t simply buy a farm but could only own a minority share of it.
Wait . . . WHAT??!!!
Are you telling me they didn’t know all this beforehand? Or that their “tourist” visas had an expiration date, and didn’t entitle them to stay indefinitely?
Well, they know it now. And so they’ve decided on another route: they’ve applied for asylum.
On what grounds? What were they being threatened by, back on the farm in Canada? Locusts? Liberals? Gay people? Yeah, that’ll get you asylum, I’m sure.
Meanwhile, the ten of them have been living in a one-room (probably communal) apartment . . . Well, that doesn’t even bear thinking about. I’ve seen those apartments. Besides being too small even for two people, they’re . . . Ugh! Don’t ask.
Reading on, I learned from Ms. Jones that the Feenstras have now become aware of further restrictions and legal requirements of their new homeland. Such as the fact that, as foreigners, in order to buy agricultural property they must first form a Russian company, and that company must have a Russian citizen (or citizens) as majority owner(s). So Arend says they’ve now done that, and found someone to take on the 51% ownership.
Your Worst Nightmare
Well, there’s a big “oh-oh” right there. Who are these new partners of theirs? What do you know about them? Are they solvent? If so, where does their money come from? In short, can they be trusted? In Russia, you can’t just run a D&B on someone. Do you realize that the partner(s), and not you, actually control that business? And even if you’re lucky and find the right person, registration still takes forever, finding and buying the property is no easy feat, and . . .
Oh, hell! I could go on forever with the “ifs,” “ands,” and “buts.” The bottom line is: the Feenstras are royally screwed. And what do they say to this? Ms. Jones quotes Arend Feenstra on this:
“We live day-to-day, and so much of it is out of our control that we have really been learning to live in faith, and not by sight. And just taking each day as it comes, hoping we get one step closer every time. We believe God brought us here, we believe God is making a way, and we will just keep trusting in him.” [Marcie Jones, Wonkette, id.]
*. *. *
I envy you your faith, Mr. and Mrs. Feenstra . . . I really do. And I hope things work out for you soon. But another old saying keeps popping into my head as I think about your dilemma:
“Yes, I believe God answers all of our prayers; but sometimes the answer is simply . . . ‘No.’”
I knew that; we all know what a fungus is. I just never imagined how many there are!
If you’re reading this and eating at the same time, I strongly urge you to stop one or the other . . . right now. No, seriously. Put down that taco. You’ll thank me later.
“Hello, there!”
I’m not entirely clear on whether that’s an actual picture of some sort of human-hosted fungus, or just someone’s idea of what Venusians will look like when they finally reach Earth. But Google says they’re fungi, so I’m going with that.
And no, they’re not the latest in Russia’s or China’s arsenal of chemical weapons . . . as far as I know. They’re actually right here, on our very own bodies — along with bacteria and viruses — by the billions . . . and we need them.
“Eewww!!!”
(Excuse me, but if the plural of “fungus” is “fungi,” then why isn’t the plural of “virus” . . . “viri”? Just asking.)
Anyway, it seems that any square centimeter of skin on your body contains between 10,000 and 1,000,000 bacteria. But they’re the good kind. So they (the experts) now tell us we shouldn’t overdo the antibacterial soap and other stuff we’ve all become so addicted to since the Covid pandemic. Because it turns out that all those tiny trespassers on your personal property — your epidermis — are there as the first line of defense against any pathogens that might try to invade your system. [Jasmin Fox-Skelly, BBC, August 13, 2024.]
And reading on, I learned that the distribution of these little squatters is uneven throughout your body . . . and that there are a number of different types of bacteria living with you in apparent harmony (and presumably not paying rent). Your forehead, nose and back might be housing one type, while your armpits, or between your toes . . .
All right — I told you to drop the taco, didn’t I?!!
You should have listened to me . . .
I did add quite a few new words to my (admittedly limited) medical vocabulary along the way, such as “Cutibacterium,” “Corynebacterium,” “Propionibacterium,” “keratinocytes,” and my personal favorite, “skin dysbiosis” — all of which I promptly consigned to the “Immediately Forgotten As Being Totally Useless” file in my brain. I’m absolutely certain I won’t be discussing “cutie bacteria” with any of my friends in the near future . . . or ever.
The article, which was quite lengthy, went into great detail as to the way in which each of these tiny treasures does its job to keep us healthy, and as to our body’s workings in general. And trust me . . . you probably don’t need to know every bit of it, any more than I did. But if you are the curious type, here’s the link:
Otherwise, just be content with knowing that you shouldn’t be scrubbing yourself with Grandma’s lye soap in a misdirected attempt to get rid of all of those baby blue Venusians crawling all over you. They’re friendlies. They should stay.
Unless you’re a student of World War II battles, or specifically of Russian history during that era, you may not have heard of the Battle of Kursk. The original one in 1943, that is.
Battle of Kursk – 1943
The Battle of Kursk was the single largest battle in the history of warfare. And along with the more famous Battle of Stalingrad, Kursk was one of the two most-cited turning points in the European Theatre of Operations (ETO) of World War II. It lasted for one month, two weeks and four days — from July 5 to August 23, 1943 — and was the single deadliest armored battle in history.
Battle of Kursk – July 5 to August 23, 1943
The Nazi regime placed great hopes on their capture of Kursk; Hitler believed that a victory there would improve his prestige with his allies, which had recently been waning. But — largely due to intelligence provided by the British — the Soviet government had received warning of Germany’s intentions. Without going into detail here, suffice it to say that Hitler lost the day — and eventually the War — as the Battle of Kursk was the final strategic offensive he was able to launch on Germany’s Eastern Front before having to divert troops to its Western Front.
So the very name “Kursk” has great meaning to the Russian people. But it is also one of the areas from which Russia chose to launch its attacks on Ukraine in this war. Now it is being evacuated, its civilian population finally learning just what it is their military has been doing to the people on the other side of the nearby border for the past two and a half years.
Perhaps someone should have warned Putin back in 2022, before he fired the first shot of this “special military operation,” that paybacks are hell.
But he’s been learning that lesson — a little too late now — over the past seven days, since Ukraine’s surprise counterattack took their troops, for the first time, across the border into Russia, where they now claim to control more than 1,000 square kilometers of Russian territory.
That’s got to feel good . . . for the Ukrainian side. President Zelensky said that Russia had brought war to others, and now it was coming back to Russia.
But on the Russian side, Vladimir Putin called the Ukrainian offensive a “major provocation,” and ordered his forces to “kick the enemy out of our territory.” [Gianluca Avagnina and Frank Gardner, BBC, August 13, 2024.]
Ukrainian Troops Entering Russia
Well, they are trying, having launched a massive counter-counteroffensive; and an anonymous senior British military source said there was a risk that Moscow might now redouble its attacks on Ukraine’s civilian population and infrastructure out of sheer anger. [BBC, id.]
Because, in Vladimir Putin’s delusional, narcissistic world, everything is someone else’s fault. And losing — or even the appearance of losing — is intolerable. So he simply strikes out, further escalating what he began in the first place.
And it all devolves into a classic barroom brawl . . . but with deadly weapons. And, as has been the case in every war ever fought anywhere in the world, innocent people on both sides of the border — people who never wanted the fight in the first place — are the real losers.
Still nursing a bad back, but it’s a little better each day. Not yet in the right frame of mind to deal with the world news, though, so I’m hoping things will remain quiet for another day or so.
Yeah . . . right!
In the meantime, keep this space open for me, if you would.
So, after two and a half years of being battered, pummeled, raided, bombed, pounded with missiles, having thousands of its people maimed, starved, kidnapped, tortured and slaughtered . . . after all of that, Ukraine has finally given Russia a small taste of its own medicine by conducting an incursion into the Kursk region, the site of one of the most significant battles of World War II, close to the Ukrainian border.
The Russian Ministry of Defense called it a “massive attack.” Vladimir Putin called it a “large-scale provocation,” saying that Kyiv conducted “indiscriminate shooting from various types of weapons, including missiles, at civilian buildings, residential buildings, and ambulances.”
A Home in Kursk, Russia – Damaged by falling debris from a destroyed Ukrainian missile
Now, why do you suppose that sounds so familiar? Could it possibly be because that’s exactly what Russia has been doing — on a much, much larger scale — to Ukraine since February 24, 2022?
For all of his big talk, his bravado, his braggadocio, it is blatantly obvious that Vladimir Putin — the man who would be “Tsar of all the Russias” — can dish it out . . . but he can’t take it. Not even a little bit of it. He’s frightened now . . . and his image is badly damaged. That, to a narcissist/tyrant such as Putin, is unbearable.
Let’s look at what he has delivered in the past 29-1/2 months in various parts of Ukraine, from Donetsk, to Kyiv, to Lviv, to Crimea . . . all over the map of a peaceful, sovereign country that wasn’t bothering him in the least. Just off the top of my head, I’m remembering Bucha, Bakhmut, Mariupol, Avdiyivka . . .
BakhmutBucha . . . or what’s left of itAvdiyivkaThe Remains of Mariupol
And, while perhaps lesser-known, such cities as Popasna and Rubizhne, in the eastern regions now occupied by Russian forces and claimed by Putin as part of Russia, have likewise been decimated.
Now, would you like to count the casualties in Kursk and compare the numbers to a similar time period of just a few days in Ukraine? Or the nature and comparative magnitude of the ongoing, incessant attacks throughout Ukraine against the recent incursion into Kursk?
And . . . perhaps most significantly . . . would you like to talk about who started it? I mean, who really started it — not some Russian bullshit propaganda about Nazi provocations or historic ownership. I’m talking about beginning the new year of 2022 with a rapid deployment of thousands of Russian troops and offensive weaponry to the border of Ukraine under the guise of a “special military operation.”
Oh, yeah . . . it was “special,” all right. It was special when, on February 24, 2022, that purely “routine” military exercise stormed across the border into Ukraine — blasting, burning, bombing, destroying everything in its path and leaving only rubble and death in its wake.
And I have just one more question for Vladimir Putin, quaking in fear now in his Kremlin palace, or his Novo-Ogarevo dacha, or his Black Sea estate:
What the f*ck did you expect? Bullies always believe their victims won’t fight back. But sometimes — when they’ve finally had enough — they do.
And a word of advice: Grow a set, Vlad. Because one of these days — when your own people have had enough — you’re going to need them.
That’s TIME, as in the magazine and online news medium. And they are — if not literally, then at least academically — killing me. With this:
Screen Shot
No, it’s not the photo . . . although, admittedly, that face is usually enough to bring about the second appearance of my breakfast. But not this time.
This time, TIME stopped me dead with the header:
“Trump Responds to Tim Walz Calling He and J.D. Vance ‘Weird’”
Look at that again. Read it aloud, and listen to how it sounds. “Calling he . . .”
“What the hell is that??!!!
Do you call “she” to breakfast? Do you call “he” on the phone? Do you call “they” a bunch of idiots? Well, hopefully not. And, for those of you who have been victims of our current educational system — which doesn’t seem to teach grammar, simple arithmetic, or how to read an analog clock — I will try to explain why.
Yes, that’s 1:50. Just take my word for it.
Because the various forms of the verb “to call” — call, called, calling — are what are referred to as transitive verbs, meaning that they take an object. And that means that they are followed by a noun or pronoun; if you “call,” you must call someone or something. (Unless you’re just calling into the void, I suppose.)
Now, nouns are simple. But pronouns have different forms, depending on whether they are subjective or objective. “She” is a subject; “her” is an object. (No, not an object of desire — let’s stick with grammar here and keep our minds out of the more interesting places.) So “she” went to the store; but you called “her” for dinner. “She” is the subject of the sentence; “her” is the object of the verb “called.” And the same applies, of course, to “he/him,” “they/them,” and “we/us.”
Oh, crap! I’ve lost you already. And I haven’t even gotten around to the proper use of the apostrophe.
Well, never mind. My grammar gripe today isn’t with the public in general; it’s with the writers and editors of TIME and other respected news media who, if anyone, should know the difference. You’re supposed to be educated people, role models. What are you — 12 years old? Buy yourselves a copy of “English Grammar for Dummies,” please! Or hire someone over 50 who actually had a decent elementary-school education.
The Blog About Everything … and Sometimes Nothing 