And there they are: a pair of 21st Century snake oil peddlers, offering their particular brands of medicine to anyone with an ill to be cured — say, a war in Gaza, or better yet, Ukraine.

First one off the starting line was Turkish President Erdogan, who has been playing the field between East and West for as long as anyone can remember. He is a dyed-in-the-wool Putinista; but his pragmatic side won’t let him risk losing his protected NATO status in the event of . . . well, if the worst should ever happen. And sitting on that fence must have been really starting to chafe.

So earlier this week, while attending the summit of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) in Astana, Kazakhstan, he managed a bit of one-on-one time with Vladimir Putin, and offered Turkiye’s help in ending that interminable “special military operation” in Ukraine.

But Putin doesn’t appear to have been in the market for snake oil this week.

In fact, without going into details as to the reason, my man Dmitry Peskov (the Kremlin’s adorable spokesman) summed it up in just five words: “No, it is not possible.” (Actually, in Russian it’s just three words.)

Thank you, Dima . . . you always manage to clarify things for us, and so succinctly.

*. *. *

And then it was back to Moscow for Putin, where he managed to find time to receive Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban on Friday, for a meeting that has been heavily criticized by Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky . . . not to mention leaders of the European Union (EU), where Hungary has just assumed the rotating presidency of its Council.

In fact, EU leaders have taken great pains to stress that Orban is not — repeat, NOT — authorized to act on behalf of their organization in attempting to negotiate peace terms between Russia and Ukraine. As the EU’s only government leader to have kept close ties with the Kremlin since its 2022 invasion of Ukraine, Viktor Orban appears more than willing to share that fence with his friend Erdogan.

They also, thus far, are sharing in the failure to impress Vladimir Putin with their offers of help in Ukraine. Following the Putin-Orban meeting, which lasted some five hours, all Orban had to offer was that Russia and Ukraine were still “far apart” in any peace discussions: “Many steps are needed to end the war, but we took the first step to restore dialogue.” [Jaroslav Lukiv and Nick Thorpe, BBC News, July 5, 2024.]

Putin settled for calling it a “frank and useful” conversation — whatever that’s worth. I’m guessing, just about as much as that handshake.

*. *. *

And as a footnote, Radio Free Europe / Radio Liberty (RFW/RL) reported yesterday that the Hungarian Foreign Minister had suddenly and inexplicably cancelled a meeting with his German counterpart scheduled for Monday, July 8th in Budapest, for “technical reasons,” adding that, “Due to an unforeseen change in the minister’s calendar, the Foreign Ministry has requested that the visit take place at a later date, hopefully in the near future. The reason is purely technical and not political.”

The German Foreign ministry said that “it was ‘astonished’ by the cancellation, and a ‘serious and honest’ discussion was needed after Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban met Russian President Vladimir Putin on the same day.” [RFE/RL, July 6, 2024.]

It would appear that I’m not the only one who treats “coincidences” with a healthy dose of skepticism.

*. *. *

And what do I have to say about all of this? Actually, Shakespeare said it far better than I (or nearly anyone else) could:

“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.” – Macbeth, Act V, Scene 5

So go home, Messrs. Erdogan and Orban — your hour upon Mr. Putin’s stage has, at the final curtain, signified absolutely nothing.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/7/24

“Say it isn’t so!” were the only words that came to my mind as I checked the news one final time before heading for bed around 2:00 this morning.

In a horrible deja vu moment, last night’s news item — not even a major headline, though it should have been — felt like the worst kind of gut-punch. It was the tragic saga of Alexei Navalny being played out all over again . . . only this time, it’s Vladimir Kara-Murza’s life being played with.

A well-known, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, politician, and vocal opponent of everything Vladimir Putin stands for, he was convicted in April 2023 of treason for spreading “false” information about the Russian army, and for being linked to an “undesirable organization.” His sentence: 25 years in prison. His real crime: giving an interview to CNN in 2022 in which he had the courage to criticize the Kremlin for its invasion of Ukraine and its persecution of political opponents:

“These people have a literally decades-long track record of going after their political opponents. Poison has been a particularly favored method because it gives them — or at least it did until all of these media investigations came out — plausible deniability. This regime that is in power in our country today, it’s not just corrupt, it’s not just kleptocratic, it’s not just authoritarian — it is a regime of murderers. And it is important to say it out loud.” [Radina Gigova and Christian Edwards, CNN, July 5, 2024.]

He was arrested shortly thereafter.

Following his 2023 conviction and sentencing, he was sent to the maximum-security penal colony known as IK-6 in Omsk, Siberia, where he has been kept in solitary confinement and denied treatment for serious medical conditions as his health steadily declines — medical conditions, including polyneuropathy, that he attributes to the 2015 and 2017 suspected poisonings by the Russian nerve agent Novichok.

And now his wife, Evgenia, reports that he has suddenly been moved to a prison hospital in another area of Omsk. His lawyers had traveled to the prison from Moscow to meet with him on Thursday, and were made to wait for five hours before finally being told that he had been moved to the hospital. When they went to the hospital on Friday morning, they were advised that he was “still being examined by doctors and had not yet been fully processed.” They were not allowed to see him on Friday, and were told that the facility would be closed over the weekend. [CNN, id.]

It is now the weekend, and Kara-Murza’s family, friends, lawyers — along with the rest of the world — sit in a holding pattern that is all too reminiscent of the months of waiting and wondering and fearing for the fate of Alexei Navalny . . . who died in prison under suspicious circumstances while the world waited.

*. *. *

What about a swap? Although such negotiations are kept in strictest confidence, it is likely that behind-the-scenes talks are taking place with regard to Vladimir Kara-Murza. Can he be traded for one or more Russians being held in another country? Possibly; but it won’t be simple — none of these cases are. Kara-Murza is a citizen of both Russia and the United Kingdom, but the U.K. has an absolute “no-prisoner-exchange” policy. He also holds U.S. Permanent Residence status, which makes him eligible for such an exchange by the U.S. Government; but there has not yet been any word of negotiations having been undertaken. If they have, it is being kept quiet.

So, again, we wait, while Vladimir Putin moves his hostages around his virtual chess board, or tosses a coin to determine who’s next.

*. *. *

“Asked by CNN why he had chosen to return to Russia after recovering from his poisoning — and knowing the risks faced by Kremlin critics — he [Kara-Murza] said: ‘I’m a Russian politician. I have to be in Russia. It’s my home country. I think the biggest gift we could give — those of us who are in opposition to Putin’s regime — to the Kremlin, is to give up and run. I mean, that’s all they want from us.’” [CNN, id.]

How long is the world going to keep running?!!

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/6/24

People are forever talking about their “best” this, or their “favorite” that. Or they’re asking you about yours. And a lot of those are easy enough to answer (though often there’s a tie and you just can’t decide). For example, my favorite . . .

Broadway show: “Les Miz” — no contest.
Movie: “The Russia House” — know most of the dialogue by heart.
Meal: Either the stuffed baked lobster at Mattakeese Wharf in Barnstable, Cape Cod, Massachusetts; or the Dover sole at a little restaurant downhill from the Royal Palace in Stockholm, Sweden.

Book: “The Charm School,” by Nelson DeMille.
Color: Blue. Or green. So, I guess . . . teal.
Vacation: Baltic Cruise on Holland America Lines, 2009.
Concert: Paul Simon in Prague, 1991.
Summer: Prague, May-August, 1991.
Dessert: Tiramisu. And coffee ice cream (not together).

Compliment: “Wow!” (It was the strapless gown; I was 18.)
Popular song: “The Sound of Silence,” by Simon & Garfunkel.
More recent popular song: “Hallelujah,” by Leonard Cohen.
More recent than that: None. Not a single, solitary one.
Classical composer: Tchaikovsky, Mozart, Beethoven . . . so many.
Popular composer: Paul McCartney, Simon & Garfunkel. It’s a tie.

*. *. *

You get the idea. But these are pretty straightforward, to the point of being downright boring. The memories I prefer are the more, shall we say, unusual ones. Some are funny, some not so much . . . and some were red-faced-get-me-the-hell-out-of-here embarrassing. But they were memorable. Such as . . .

Best trip to Emergency Room. Briefly: Around 20 years old, cramps, pitcher of whisky sours, sundeck on a hot day, cool shower, passed out, hit wood floor face-first, split chin open, no car, called EMTs, went to ER, sewn up, had to return home in taxi . . . in cotton robe, nothing underneath, bare feet, big white dressing across chin, through crowded lobby of apartment building. My only comment: “You should see the other guy.” Talk of the building for weeks.

Best fender-bender. There’s really no such thing as a “good” accident, but this one was worse for the other guy than for me. In the usual bumper-to-bumper evening rush-hour traffic around the Jefferson Memorial in D.C., everyone had stopped except the driver behind me, whose front bumper French-kissed my rear bumper, audibly shattering something made of glass (turned out to be his headlight). We were exchanging insurance information when another car pulled over, a man and a woman exited the car and began walking toward us. The other driver — typically for people in larger cities — looked concerned, but I told him not to worry, as I knew the couple. In fact, they were a partner and a paralegal at the law firm in which I worked and were just making sure I was all right.

You could see the poor guy (the offending driver) deflate on the spot; he heard “lawyer,” and figured his life had just gone down the drain. I’m sure he had a couple of sleepless nights until I informed my insurance adjuster, who informed his insurance adjuster, who then informed him that I wasn’t injured . . . and in fact, my Datsun’s rock-solid bumper was barely even scratched. No damage, no law suit. He got lucky; but judging from the expression on his face when a lawyer showed up at the scene, he had already had his punishment.

Best breach of protocol. I can’t go into detail, but my firm at one time (in the ‘80s) had been retained to represent the widow of the last Shah of Iran in some commercial business matters. I never did meet her, and our representation of her was kept strictly confidential, but I was super impressed to be even indirectly connected to a royal family. Answering the phone one morning — just one of the dozens of calls I fielded during a typical day — I was stunned to hear a lovely, friendly female voice say, “Hello. This is Farah Pahlavi.”

Now, I was accustomed to dealing with people at high levels of industry and government, but was taken aback by the fact that an Empress would, first of all, place her own calls, and second, be so down-to-earth. At that moment, all of my years of training went out the window, and I heard myself replying, “Oh, hi. How are you?”

What the hell was wrong with me??!!! Did I think I was talking to my best friend? But before I could grab the scissors and kill myself, she stepped right in and said, “I’m fine, thank you. You must be Brenda. I’ve heard so much about you.” Wow! That lady is the very definition of graciousness, and though I never did have the privilege of meeting her face-to-face, I have never forgotten her. And when I think of that conversation, I still do this:

Best funeral. My mother’s, actually. Okay, I know that’s beyond weird. But there were a few little incidents that broke through the misery: my daughter packing seven pairs of socks and no toothbrush (it was out of state); the rainy day that turned bright and sunny, as if on cue, just as we reached the cemetery; the man my sister and daughter didn’t know who gave me the biggest bear hug ever and had them wondering about my secret life; and swapping growing-up stories late at night with our aunt, my mother’s younger sister.

But the best moment occurred on the day before the actual funeral, when the Rabbi came to my aunt’s home to pay his respects. When he walked into the living room, where my sister and I were seated next to each other, we took one look at him, turned to each other, and in unison blurted out, “Mottel.” That Rabbi was the absolute image of Mottel the Tailor, from “Fiddler On the Roof.” And we both burst out laughing, leaving the poor man thinking he’d walked into an insane asylum. This was, after all, supposed to be a household in mourning. But sometimes you just need a good belly laugh.

Best time almost getting shot in Russian museum. Well, the only time, really. Back in the day (1993) before smart phones and digital cameras, while living and working for a few months in Moscow, a good friend from Washington was staying with me for a couple of days on her way to meet up with her husband, who was in one of the former Soviet republics on business. With her was her teenage son, whose only request while there was to visit the Military Museum. As it happened, my next-door neighbors were a military family, and the husband offered to take us there. So the five of us piled into their little car; stopped for lunch at McDonald’s on the way (a real treat for the Russian couple); and headed for the museum, where the admission was free but I was required to pay one ruble for the privilege of taking pictures with my own camera.

Well, as I said, it was a film camera, and after snapping away for a while, the camera told me it was out of film by beeping at me — quite loudly, and repeatedly. Beep! Beep! Beep! And I’ve got to tell you, two of those armed guards — the ones who are absolutely everywhere in Moscow — came running into the room, hands on holsters, ready for action. But I was way ahead of them. Holding the camera up in the air where they could see it, I shouted, “Nyet! Nyet! Fotoaparat! Fotoaparat!” (“No! No! Camera! Camera!”) Mercifully, their hands still on their holsters, they heard me, saw the camera up in the air, and came walking slowly and cautiously toward me, where they examined the offending camera as I turned off the beeper, and everyone finally relaxed. In fact, we all had a rather hearty laugh in the end. Fun times in an authoritarian society.

Best time passed out in 5-star restaurant. Nope, I’m not going through this whole story again. But it was hilarious enough to warrant its own blog post (6/13/24: “The Trauma of Turning Thirty” — check it out.)

*. *. *

My point, after all of this, is that it’s not the routine and mundane that we value or remember throughout the decades. And it’s not necessarily just the good things. For me, at least, it’s the unusual, the bizarre, the quirky, even the embarrassing. Maybe I have a strange sense of humor, but it works for me. When I need to lighten up on a not-so-great day, I just call out to the universe, “Fotoaparat! Fotoaparat!” . . . and I recall once again that much of this life has, after all, been great fun.

You might want to give it a try. “Fotoaparat! Fotoaparat!”

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/6/24

Does that sound bass-ackwards to you? Of course, it does. In fact, I can almost hear Aristotle rotating in his grave at the very thought. But it appears to be just the sort of impossibility that a certain modern-day world leader would like to turn into a reality. And from all appearances, he’s been working hard at doing just that.

It shouldn’t surprise anyone that that world leader is none other than Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin. But how does he propose to do this? And, for Heaven’s sake, why?

Well, it’s no secret that he is heavily invested in becoming, not just Tsar of All the Russias, but King of the Whole Freakin’ World. And to do so, he must of course destabilize and conquer every other major power on Earth, right? But that’s no easy feat. And it could very well backfire. A full-blown attack on, say, Great Britain or the United States would bring instant retaliation from the entirety of the NATO membership, and . . .

Bye-bye, Russia.

We’ve long since figured out that Putin’s a little bit — all right, pretty high up — on the crazy spectrum. But make no mistake: he is not stupid. Nor, by all accounts, is he suicidal. So his problem is figuring out how to reach his objective without getting himself and his entire country smashed to smithereens. And his solution seems to be to do it bit by bit, and preferably in a way that lays the blame at someone else’s — anyone else’s — feet. And when all of those seemingly unrelated successes are eventually added together, the sum total will be:

All hail, King Vlad!

*. *. *

You want examples? Okay, here you go . . .

— An arson attack on the Museum of Occupation in Riga, Latvia.

— Fires at a warehouse in London in March and a shopping center in Warsaw in May.

— Several people arrested in Germany in April on suspicion of planning explosions and arson attacks.

— Numerous hacking attacks and spying incidents reported in several European countries.

— A Russian defector shot dead in Spain, and another Russian man — Leonid Volkov, a well-known dissident living in Vilnius, Lithuania — attacked with a hammer outside his home.

— An anti-terrorism investigation in France after a suspected bomb-maker nearly blew himself up. (No one said these people were geniuses.)

In each case, local officials have linked the incidents to Russia. And last month, NATO Secretary General Jens Stoltenberg commented:

“We are threatened by something which is not a full-fledged military attack, which are these hybrid threats … everything from meddling in our political processes, (undermining) the trust in our political institutions, disinformation, cyber-attacks (…) and sabotage actions against critical infrastructure.” [Ivana Kottasova, CNN, June 30, 2024.]

Such incidents are not new. And assassinations of Putin’s opponents — whether by blatant poisoning or shooting, or thinly-disguised “suicide” or “accident” — have been taking place for years, from Aleksandr Litvinenko to Aleksei Navalny. But, as stated by Rod Thornton, a senior lecturer in defense studies at King’s College London:

“There has definitely been an increase over the last few months in these particular types of operations. It is something that the Russians are ramping up.” [CNN, id.]

While Russia has not claimed responsibility for these incidents, Thornton added that: “It’s long been a part of Russian military doctrine to try and avoid trying to face NATO on a battlefield, because they know they would lose to NATO forces. What they are doing is undertaking activities which are below the threshold of armed conflict, so they are not inciting an Article 5 response from NATO.” [CNN, id.]

Remember that Putin’s “special military operation” in Ukraine was supposed to have been quick-and-dirty, in and out within a few days or a couple of weeks. He clearly didn’t count on two things: the guts and determination of the Ukrainian people, and the backing of the West despite Ukraine’s not being a member of NATO. Perhaps he has learned from that mistake.

*. *. *

So, without listing each and every suspicious incident over the past twenty years — including a few attacks within Russia itself that may well have been self-inflicted — there are strong indications that Vladimir Putin is trying to prove that Aristotle was wrong, and that the sum of all of his lesser incursions will prove more effective than one all-out invasion.

In other words, eight equal slices of pie will outweigh the original, uncut pie.

Seriously, Vlad?

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/5/24

I just want to take a moment to wish every proud American a happy, safe, and peaceful Fourth of July, 2024 . . . and raise a glass to the next 248 years of freedom, unity, peace, and prosperity.

Now let’s all get busy celebrating and being thankful. I’ll see you here tomorrow, God willing.

Brendochka
7/4/24

You would have been 141 years old today. Sadly, you fell about 100 years short of that mark; you passed away — of tuberculosis — just a month shy of your 41st birthday, on June 3rd of 1924.

I heard so much about you during that summer of 1991 when I lived in Prague, the city of your birth. Although you were educated in German schools, and spoke and wrote primarily in the German language, you had become the pride of your native Czechoslovakia.

I learned that your life was a difficult one: your physical health, your lack of self-confidence, your sexual confusion, fear of your tyrannical father, boredom with your routine daytime jobs . . . all of these undoubtedly contributed to your general melancholy. But your level of intelligence and profound thought processes helped you to overcome your difficulties for the most part, and you found satisfaction in your writing. You were influenced by the writings of others such as Edgar Allan Poe and Friedrich Nietzsche, and were so taken with Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment and The Brothers Karamazov that you were known to refer to that author as a “blood relative.” Is it any wonder, then, that your own works tended to lean so heavily toward the dystopian?

But that summer of 1991 was also the “Year of Mozart” in Prague. And I found myself attending so many concerts of his music in the evenings after work, and exploring the many wonders of Prague and the surrounding areas on weekends, that I found no time for reading. And in all the years since, I confess — with no small measure of shame — that I have yet to read any of your works.

But I am about to remedy that shortcoming. I have ordered an anthology of your most famous Metamorphosis and other stories, and having just finished the book I’ve been engrossed in for the past week, will dig right into yours as soon as Amazon delivers. Which should actually be any minute now.

Being myself a fan of Dostoevsky (though I claim no familial relationship), I expect not to be disappointed — or freaked out — by your creative imaginings. I’ll let you know.

In the meantime . . .

. . . happy birthday, Franz Kafka, wherever you are.

Brendochka
7/3/24

Two days from now, we in the United States will celebrate another birthday, with all the attendant fireworks and barbecues and lazy hours off of work. And in just two years, we will look forward to huge, noisy, Bacchanalian celebrations of our Semiquincentennial, or Sestercentennial, or Bisesquincentennial (none of which is recognized by Spellcheck, which actually makes me feel a bit better), or — final choice — Quarter Millennial.

Any way you pronounce it (if indeed you can pronounce it at all), it adds up to 250 years of Democracy: the experiment that nearly everyone — at least everyone in 18th-Century England — expected to fall flat on its forward-looking face.

But it didn’t. At least, it hasn’t as yet. Though looking back on this last decade or so, I just don’t know . . .

When the Founding Fathers signed off on the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776, even they, at the pinnacle of their optimism, hardly anticipated that their newly autonomous nation would one day be the most powerful, the most envied, the most emulated in the world; that our system of government would set the standard for most others; or that our economy would become the bedrock on which the world’s economies rested.

But it has.

And those of us who were blessed to have been born here, or to have been welcomed as naturalized citizens, would like to keep it that way for at least another quarter of a millennium.

But we’ve got problems . . . and I needn’t waste time and energy spelling them out for you. You know what they are. For the most part, they are the same problems that have infected the rest of the world. But in addition to the shared issues, the very foundation of our nation — the United States Constitution — is at peril of being undermined; our Supreme Court has lost its objectivity and its sense of direction; and we are without leaders to guide us toward salvation.

Our bicameral Congress is composed of Senators and Representatives who don’t seem to give a flying . . . well, you know . . . about the welfare of the nation or their constituencies. They care only for their own interests, their own privileged positions, and winning the next election.

And even worse . . . worst of all . . . our White House can’t find a candidate worthy of occupying it. If there is a Jefferson, a Lincoln, a Roosevelt, or a Truman out there, he or she is doing a good job of remaining hidden and anonymous. Instead, we have:

*. *. *

And here is the crux of our problem. I don’t care if you identify as a Republican or a Democrat, liberal or conservative, left or right, red or blue. I have my own political viewpoints, but they’re no one’s business, and they’re definitely not at issue here. What is at issue is that we are being told to choose as our next leader — the leader of the free world — one of two old men who, for different reasons, are no longer qualified for any position of authority, much less that of President of the United States of America.

The arguments for and against each of their innate abilities and past accomplishments are infinite . . . and irrelevant. What is so blindingly obvious is that their respective conditions today totally disqualify each of them from even running (if either of them can still, literally, run). Let’s look at it from a strictly logical viewpoint:

Joe Biden, 81, is visibly fighting the normal challenges of aging. His movements have slowed, his mental responses have slowed. He looks tired, and no wonder — he’s been laboring at the hardest job in the world for four long years. Hell, I have the same issues, and my stress level isn’t even on the same chart as his. It doesn’t necessarily signify dementia, or even mild senility. It’s just age. Could he survive another four years of the same lifestyle? And why would he even want to (other than to keep his opponent out of office)?

As for Donald Trump, 78, he is only three years younger. Other than a serious weight problem that would be dangerous for someone even half his age, he does appear to be in better physical condition than President Biden; but appearances can be deceiving. In four more years, he will be 82 — if his health holds out. And even assuming that it will, his mental focus is constantly interrupted by the need to deal with all of the legal battles that have arisen from his own illegal actions. He is, when all is said and done, a convicted felon. You would be ill-advised to buy a used car from such a person. Do you really think he can be trusted with the future of an entire country?

Incredibly, and sadly, our Constitution — as all-encompassing as it strives to be — does not disqualify either of them from holding the office of President. But common sense does . . . or at least it should. Unfortunately, along with any qualified individuals willing to run for office, we seem to have lost that attribute as well.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/2/24

* Note for the youngest of my readers: Thou mayest find thy selves unable to read thy country’s Constitution, as thou hast not been schooled in the art of cursive penmanship in which it is written. But do not despair: our modern world hast provided thee with Google, and thou shalt doubtless be able to find a printed replica of the document in that mysterious place called “Online.” I wish thee good fortune in navigating the rocky shoals of the rest of thy lives.

Message to Kanye West:

By “we,” I mean the general public. We’ve become accustomed to your usual level of sleaziness and depravity, your foul language, your degrading treatment of your wives. And although you manage to have your picture and your loathsome opinions plastered throughout the media, we have the option of simply tuning you out, so you’ve gotten away with it thus far.

(Normally, I would include here a picture of you, but instead I’ve found what I consider to be a fair substitute.)

Just for kicks, I have added a couple of photos of the real you with your wives, Kim and Bianca. Sorry the heads have been cut off in the second picture (with Bianca) — the photographer seems to have been going for a specific look.

*. *. *

But enough about your personal life; it has nothing to do with me in any event. In case you’re wondering about the reason for my sudden compulsion to write about you at this particular time, let me explain. It was the mention — actually, several mentions — in yesterday’s news of your visit to Moscow. Yes, that Moscow: the one in Russia. You know — the totalitarian country that has invaded and is intent on overtaking Ukraine (and beyond); the one that has killed and wounded tens of thousands of Ukrainian civilians and kidnapped an estimated 20,000 of their children for “re-homing” in Russia; the one that takes innocent Americans hostage on non-existent grounds and holds them for eventual trade like so many head of cattle; and the same one that keeps tossing around threats of nuclear “retaliation” against NATO member countries. Yeah . . . that Moscow.

You claimed to be there for the birthday of a Russian designer, Gosha Rubchinskiy, whom you have retained to work in one of your business enterprises. But are you so dense that you’re unaware of the sanctions in place against Russia by most of the free world? (By the way, you do know what “free” means, don’t you? It’s the concept that makes it possible for you to maintain your degenerate lifestyle.)

Okay, so you thought it would be cool to say you’d been to Russia and stayed in the Presidential Suite of the Four Seasons Hotel there. But did you also have to express a desire to meet with Vladimir Putin? And did you have to align yourself with the likes of Donald Trump and Steven Seagal as another of Putin’s greatest admirers?

Well, of course you did! Because that’s what a baboon would do.

(Hey, did you consider that Seagal might arrange that introduction to Putin? They’re great buddies, you know. Just a thought.)

*. *. *

And then I reread a 2022 interview you had with Alex Jones in which you shocked even him by expressing your adoration of none other than Adolph Hitler, your incomprehensible belief in the falsehood that the Holocaust never happened, and your ingrained raging anti-Semitism. And that’s when I couldn’t take any more.

When your pronouncements are too extreme even for the likes of a demagogue like Jones, shouldn’t that say something to you? But never mind that. I have just one question for you, and it is this:

How can you, Kanye West, as a proud Black man whose ancestors were so brutally treated, justify your hatred of an entire race of people simply because they’re different from yourself?

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/1/24

Another Sunday, another week of trials . . . and tribulations. The first part of the so-called “trial” of Evan Gershkovich — a two-hour closed-door session that can only be assumed to have been some sort of scripted preliminary proceeding — was held on Wednesday, June 26th, in the Sverdlovsk Regional Courthouse, Yekaterinburg, Russia.

As reported earlier this week, representatives of the U.S. Embassy in Moscow, as well as some journalists, were granted brief entry into the courtroom . . . but only prior to the proceedings; and they were not given access to Gershkovich. The only hard information to come out of Wednesday’s hearing was the continuation date of the trial: August 13th.

Whether coincidentally or not, another HOSTAGE, Russian-American Ksenia Karelina, is also being held prisoner in Yekaterinburg. Following a preliminary hearing in Moscow, she has been charged with treason; her trial is to be resumed in Yekaterinburg on August 7th.

It promises to be a busy week at the courthouse.

It is not yet known — and probably won’t be until the 11th hour — whether American Embassy personnel, legal counsel, or family members will be permitted to attend either trial, which have already been announced as being “closed” . . . or even to meet with the prisoners beforehand.

Due process . . . presumption of innocence . . . the very concept of justice itself . . . continue to be unknown under Russia’s legal system. With a conviction rate of 99%, one need hardly bother going through the motions.

Just sayin’ . . .

*. *. *

And to another of the HOSTAGES named below, Ilya Yashin, belated best wishes on your 41st birthday (yesterday). May the coming year be infinitely better than the last.

Brendochka
6/30/24

*. *. *

And to my readers: Please — once again — let us not forget the other HOSTAGES, still wasting away in various Russian prisons and penal colonies for the simple act of disagreeing with Vladimir Putin’s increasingly onerous edicts. It is for them that this regular Sunday posting — now at the half-year mark — is written.

To those known . . .

Vladimir Kara-Murza – HOSTAGE
Evan Gershkovich – HOSTAGE
Alsu Kurmasheva – HOSTAGE
Paul Whelan – HOSTAGE
Ilya Yashin – HOSTAGE
Robert Woodland Romanov – HOSTAGE
Boris Akunin – HOSTAGE
Marc Hilliard Fogel – HOSTAGE
Asya Kazantseva – HOSTAGE
Ilya Barabanov – HOSTAGE
Aleksandr Skobov – HOSTAGE
Antonina Favorskaya – HOSTAGE
Oleg Orlov – HOSTAGE
Boris Kagarlitsky – HOSTAGE
Oleg Navalny – HOSTAGE
Ksenia Karelina – HOSTAGE
Ksenia Fadeyeva – HOSTAGE
Lilia Chanysheva – HOSTAGE
Vadim Ostanin – HOSTGE
Sergei Udaltsov – HOSTAGE
Konstantin Gabov – HOSTAGE
Danuta Perednya – HOSTAGE
Olesya Krivtsova – HOSTAGE
Staff Sgt. Gordon Black – HOSTAGE

. . . and those hundreds of others whose names remain unknown to me . . . you are not forgotten, nor have you been abandoned. The fight continues on your behalf.

Brendochka
6/30/24

You may have noticed a distinct shift in the direction of my postings over the last few days, from the urgency of world news to the more . . . much more . . . mundane. Rest assured that this does not imply a loss of interest in the crucial events taking place in various parts of our planet. Quite the contrary. My morning routine remains the same: hightail it to the bathroom, return to bed, check my phone for emails and clear out the 95% that are pure junk, and peruse three or four news sources — all before finally getting up for breakfast. (At my stage of life, that first order of business is non-negotiable. Too much information? Okay, then . . . onward and upward.)

Strangely, over the past week I’ve seen a definite lag in new news — at least, the sort that I feel compelled to comment on. Perhaps that’s a good thing, since in most cases an event isn’t even considered to be news unless it’s bad . . . or about Taylor Swift. And I don’t have to tell you that we’ve had more than enough of both of those. Of course, there are still the ongoing, never-ending tragedies of the wars — Russia vs. Ukraine; Israel and Hamas vs. each other; Putin and Xi vs. The World; Trump vs. Reality — as well as the health of the British royal family; the latest mass shooting; the ever-worsening climate; the Harry and Meghan soap opera . . . You see what I mean? How much can be written about anything before it becomes the same old same old?

You’re probably wondering why I haven’t commented on the first U.S. presidential debate that was apparently held on Thursday, involving — let’s see now — oh, yes: President Joe Biden and convicted felon Donald Trump. Well, the answer is simple: I refused to watch it, I haven’t read anything about it, and I have better things to do with my time. It isn’t that I don’t care about the election; of course, I do. I simply don’t want to go to that dark place where I’m thinking about the future of the world if either of the two presumptive candidates should win office in November . . . And I don’t publicly comment on my political views in any event. But here for your viewing pleasure are the boys — Joe and Donny — just so you don’t think I’m unaware of what’s going on in the world:

Well, that’s done. So now, once again, onward and upward . . .

*. *. *

I did find one bit of happy news. The San Diego Zoo has been gifted a pair of giant pandas from China! They are the first in quite a while, and the single bright spot in the otherwise murky relationship between China and the United States. I remember the first pair — Ling Ling and Sing Sing — arriving at the National Zoo in our nation’s capital back in 1972. The lines to visit them were endless, but the viewing was well worth the wait. They were pure joy.

These adorable, happy, playful, simply wonderful creatures have been such outstanding goodwill ambassadors over the years. Too bad they can’t run for president.

*. *. *

That’s it for today, I’m afraid. I’ll be working on finding something (hopefully) interesting for tomorrow while the globe continues spinning on its wobbly axis. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and something shocking will happen somewhere . . .

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
6/29/24