I have a confession to make: I am a pro-vaxxer. And I can’t tell you how good it feels to get that off my conscience.

Yes, I know . . . I know our esteemed Secretary of Health and Human Services — that renowned font of all medical wisdom, promoter of “toughing it out,” and black sheep of the otherwise reasonably sane Kennedy family — has told us that Tylenol causes autism, and vaccines will turn us all into zombies or mutants or an army of terrifying clones.

But I’m a rebel. I was raised to believe in my own intelligence, and in my ability to make rational decisions based on empirical evidence. Not voodoo “science.” And not the word of some strung-out, addle-brained . . . well, you know who I mean.

So, based on my own decades-long history of not having had a serious case of the flu since the first flu shots became available; having survived five years of being surrounded by the coronavirus without contracting it; and never having had polio thanks to Dr. Jonas Salk . . . I have made an independent decision.

Today, I am going to have my annual flu and COVID shots. My local pharmacy has the vaccines, I’m over 65, and I don’t give a rat’s ass what some pea-brained psycho who looks like he died three years ago tells me.

*. *. *

The reason I am sharing this with you is that I did have one mild reaction to my past COVID shots: total exhaustion for a day or two. I wasn’t ill; I didn’t have a fever; I just felt as limp as a Raggedy Ann doll. (Remember her?)

So I’m anticipating that I may be too tired to think for the next 24-48 hours, in which case you will most likely be able to find me in my PJs, hunkered down in my easy chair, staring mindlessly at reruns of the entire 25 seasons of Midsomer Murders, and occasionally taking nourishment in the form of . . . what else? . . . a couple of pints of Haagen-Dazs.

And perhaps a Tylenol or two.

I’ll keep you posted.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/10/25

If you asked me to name the happiest summer of my life — other than the two years in which my son and daughter were born, both in July, two years apart — it would be the summer of 1991, when I lived and worked in Prague.

I’ve written about it before, in great detail. It was the summer that the last of the occupying Russian troops left the country after the fall of the Soviet Union, and Prague was in full celebration mode. Being there to share the joy, the sensation of freedom, and the unbridled optimism for an unlimited future was one of the greatest experiences of my life.

Our U.S. law firm was there to advise and assist the new government as it formulated a democratic legal framework under its new liberal president, Vaclav Havel. With the help of our young Czech staff, we worked hard; but evenings and weekends were for fun — and that was when our local friends became our instructors. Because those kids knew how to get the most out of every moment of life.

And that sense of joy and mischief has apparently not subsided over the years, judging from reports of the most recent demonstrations of snarky payback aimed at their former occupiers. Since the invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Russia’s embassy in Prague has been trolled by the locals with not-so-subtle reminders of Vladimir Putin’s crimes against Ukraine and against his own Russian dissidents.

The embassy is located in a lovely area well outside the bustle of Prague’s historic Old Town. And Czech authorities began — even before Putin’s war made Russia an international pariah — renaming some of the surrounding streets and landmarks in honor of some of Putin’s most prominent victims.

As you approach the Embassy, you are likely to find yourself walking down Ukrainian Heroes Street, which needs no explanation.

Turn the corner, and you will be across from the entrance to the embassy, on Boris Nemtsov Square — named for one of Putin’s most prominent opponents who was shot and killed while walking home from dinner near Moscow’s Red Square one evening in 2015.

On the far opposite side of the compound is a forest path popular with joggers and dog walkers, now named Anna Politkovskaya Promenade in remembrance of the Russian journalist noted for her outspoken coverage of political events — most notably the wars in Chechnya —and assassinated in 2006 in the elevator of her Moscow apartment building.

And nearby is a lookout over Prague’s Stromovka Park, now named Aleksei Navalny Lookout for the beloved Russian anti-corruption activist who survived a nearly-successful poisoning attempt, only to die under suspicious circumstances in a Siberian penal colony in February 2024.

Then there is this sculpture by Jan Slovencik, installed directly outside the Russian embassy fence on Ukrainian Independence Day on August 24, 2022, depicting a “V” for “Victory” — with the Ukrainian national colors of blue and yellow adorning the fingernails:

Clearly, the people of the Czech Republic — a member of both NATO and the EU — are proudly and openly anti-Putin.

How, then, has it come to pass that Andrej Babis, the billionaire leader of the populist ANO Party, has just been edged into position to be elected Czech Prime Minister in a stunning political comeback? (He previously served in that office from 2017-2021.) His party won the largest number of seats in last week’s election, though not with an outright majority.

Babis is known for his strong Euroskeptic rhetoric and his suggestions that he would end support for Ukraine. He has also indicated that, in an effort to form a coalition majority in Parliament, he would hold talks with the extremist, pro-Russian SPD Party and another smaller party. He has also expressed support for Hungary’s right-wing, Putin-friendly Prime Minister, Viktor Orban.

In a nation very much committed to Western-style democracy and support for Ukraine in the battle against Russian aggression, how is it possible that Babis’ party was able to win enough votes to potentially allow him to regain office? Assuming that the election was indeed a fair and honest one, it would seem that there is a sizable movement back toward the political right. And if that is the case, then who is driving it?

While not in and of itself a disaster, ANO’s victory is disturbing. Looking at Hungary, Slovakia and Serbia, it is easy to see an increased leaning toward the repressive political right, as NATO and the EU struggle to maintain Europe’s resistance to Putin’s blatant expansionist designs. They cannot spare a single ally.

And from a personal point of view, it would break my heart to see my beautiful, joyous Prague go down that rabbit hole.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/9/25

When I was about eight years old, my older sister Merna was in junior high school (or what is now called middle school). She had always loved the idea of being a teacher, and had taught me to read and do simple arithmetic when I was just three years old. All the adults thought I was a genius, but of course I wasn’t. Merna was the only one who seemed to understand that little kids’ minds are like sponges and are capable of learning much more, at a much earlier age, than the grown-ups realized at the time, and I was her captive pupil.

Anyway, while in junior high, Merna had been chosen to play the role of Marc Antony in the school’s performance of Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar.” And for those of you who didn’t manage to stay awake during English class, Marc Antony’s soliloquy at Caesar’s funeral is a long and complicated one.

So guess who was tagged to be her rehearsal coach. Our mother or father? Oh, no . . . not in those days. Our parents were not our buddies or study mates; they were our bosses, our wardens, our disciplinarians. They made us do our own homework, invent our own games, eat whatever was prepared for us, and make our own beds. Those were harsh times. (But look at how well we turned out!)

The point of this whole story — almost a soliloquy in itself — is that, during the weeks of coaching Merna for her big debut, I managed to memorize the entire long eulogy along with her. In fact, if I hadn’t been so small, I probably could have been her understudy for the play itself.

And to this day, I still remember about half of it. It’s the one that begins “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears. I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him . . .” And so forth.

“Well, so what?” . . . I hear you ask.

All right — if you insist . . .

What I’d like to know is this: If I can remember something like that — something I learned as if by osmosis, and quite by accident, three-quarters of a century ago — why in hell don’t I know where I left my reading glasses? I had them just a minute ago!

And if I can still recite Lady Macbeth’s mad scene from my own high school days, why am I not sure — five minutes after walking out of the bathroom — whether I actually brushed my teeth?

The key to my file cabinet? I know I put it in a safe place, somewhere I’d be sure to remember.

But ask me what I wore on New Year’s Eve of 1961, and I’ll describe it down to the color of the lipstick in my little beaded evening bag.

I can name every one of the 50 U.S. states in alphabetical order; but I have to triple-check whether I entered the time of my next doctor’s appointment on my calendar.

And — which should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me — I’ll rattle off the names of the 15 former Soviet Republics and their capital cities . . . but not the names of the people I met at our neighborhood book club the other day.

I also know almost every punch line of the entire “Golden Girls” TV series. So why can’t I remember what I ate for dinner last night?

I’m not going senile. I have no problem keeping track of the important things — like actually making that doctor’s appointment, refilling my few prescriptions and taking them on time every day, and all of the birthdays of my remaining friends and relatives (and even the dead ones). But the perfect adjective to describe what I’m trying to convey as I write my blog posts . . . that’s a whole different ball game.

It’s not dementia (thankfully). It’s apparently — according to what my contemporaries and my doctor tell me — a natural byproduct of living longer than I ever expected to. As we age, we tend to lose things. I suppose if we live long enough, we’ll leave this world as we entered it: wrinkled, bald, toothless, and without a rational thought in our heads.

But first, some of us will be elected president.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/9/25

In Harriet Beecher Stowe’s 19th-century novel, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” slave owner Simon Legree — in an uncontrolled rage at Tom’s refusal to obey an order to punish a fellow slave — has Tom flogged to death.

I’m inclined to believe that Uncle Tom’s Cabin may be one of the few books that Donald Trump has actually read and retained, in light of his own inexcusably inhumane treatment of the citizens of the country he has sworn to protect and defend. He has merely refined the methods and extended the reach of his cruelty.

With the White House as his metaphorical plantation, “Simon Trump” rules this country as Simon Legree ruled his piece of the world. And Trump’s latest victims — hundreds of thousands of them — are the government workers who have been involuntarily furloughed or forced to work without pay, and now — in the mother of all double-whammies — are threatened with unwarranted, unjustified layoffs as punishment for Congress’ failure to pass a budget bill for the coming year.

And all while the members of Congress, and Fat Simon himself, sit safely ensconced on their thrones, supported by the taxes already collected from those selfsame workers.

“Pissed off” doesn’t even begin to describe what We the People are feeling right now. I’m reminded of the famous scene from the 1976 classic film “Network,” where the character Howard Beale — fed up with the state of the country — implores the American people:

“I want you to go to the window, open it, stick your head out and yell: ‘I’m as mad as hell and I’m not gonna take this anymore.’”

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/8/25

I am not a hyphenated American.

My grandparents emigrated in 1905 from that part of the Russian Empire now known as the sovereign nation of Ukraine. Their immigration records list them as being of Russian nationality; my DNA says I am 99% Russian, 0.4% Norwegian, and 0.6% either Middle Eastern or East African (for some reason, that is a bit muddled).

I could, in accordance with current trends, call myself a Russian-American or Ukrainian-American; but I don’t. I am an American of Ukrainian heritage.

I was born in the United States, as were both of my parents. I grew up surrounded by other children whose parents or grandparents were immigrants from all over the world. But we were, without question, 100% American.

End of discussion . . . or so I thought.

Now, it seems, a new category of Americans has been created: so-called “heritage Americans.” As snobbish and exclusionary as it sounds, that’s just how bad it is. And it seems to be gaining favor among far-right conservatives, though there isn’t one clear definition of the term.

For example, speaking on a Tucker Carlson podcast, Blaze Media columnist Auron MacIntyre explained his concept of the term as follows:

“You could find their names in the Civil War registry.” He said that America is not “a collection of abstract things agreed to in some social contract,” but rather is a specific set of people embodying an “Anglo-Protestant spirit [and having] a tie to history and to the land. If you change the people, you change the culture.” [Ali Breland, The Atlantic, October 7, 2025.]

And Senator Eric Schmitt (R.-Missouri), speaking at a National Conservative Conference last month, had this to offer:

“We Americans are the sons and daughters of the Christian Pilgrims that poured out from Europe’s shores to baptize a new world in their ancient faith. [America] is our birthright. It’s our heritage, our destiny.” [Id.]

And Christian nationalist C. Jay Engel, while describing himself as a “heritage American,” still claims that he is not a “racial essentialist,” and magnanimously allows that “blacks of the Old South [and] integrated Native Americans” also count as heritage Americans.

Well, I’m sure that all of the Sioux, Cherokee, Cheyenne, Wampanoag, Seminole, Creek, and hundreds of other indigenous peoples who were displaced and robbed of their lands by Mr. Engel’s pure white Christian ancestors will be thrilled to learn that they are, after all, worthy of being considered Americans.

Then, to add insult to injury, Engel went on to say that “the majority of blacks have demonstrated that they canot function within the old European cultural standards,” and that the concept of heritage Americans affirms “the domination and pre-eminence of the European derived peoples, their institutions, and their way of life.” [Id.]

Well, there went the last 160 years of progress.

*. *. *

As with most cockeyed, self-serving theories, this one is full of holes. To begin with, the so-called “non-racist” “heritage Americans” have conveniently ignored the obvious fact that their ancestors literally stole this country from the only people who actually have a legitimate claim to the title: the 500-plus recognized Native American tribes, some of whom date back an estimated 10,000 years or longer.

And I wonder whether they have considered that among those lily-white early European settlers were as many as 50,000 to 120,000 convicted criminals sent by the British government to the American “penal colonies” as convict labor during the 17th and 18th centuries — any of whom might even have been the ancestors of Messrs. MacIntyre, Schmitt or Engel.

Then they might also want to start explaining where people like Secretary of State Marco Rubio (whose parents came from Cuba), JD Vance’s wife Usha (the daughter of Indian parents), and Melania Trump (an emigre from Slovenia) fit into their exclusive club.

*. *. *

I could go on, but I’m sure I’ve made my point. If you want to talk about real Americans, you’re going to have to look past this group of elitist, racist, pseudo-Christian hypocrites . . . and into your own mirrors.

Because we are the Americans, and they can’t convince us otherwise.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/8/25

I just called my local pharmacy to confirm that they are ready with this year’s flu and COVID vaccines, and happily they told me they are well supplied. However . . .

I was quickly informed that the COVID vaccine is available only to persons aged 65 or above. Luckily for me — if you believe that being old and decrepit is lucky — I am in that category, and so am eligible for my free shots. I will get both this week.

But for the rest of the population, the clock has been turned back to 2019, when we were first hit by the newly-identified coronavirus, and no vaccine existed to prevent or combat it. Since January of 2020, following release of the first vaccine, the CDC has logged 1,235,651 COVID-related deaths in the United States, out of a total of 2,216,648 deaths due to influenza, pneumonia and COVID-19 combined. [CDC.gov, as of September 25, 2025.]

Those numbers most likely include many cases involving people with other underlying health problems who might otherwise have survived. But imagine how many more might have died without the preventive vaccine . . . and how many more will now succumb to what is essentially a disease that is preventable or at least capable of being reduced in severity.

There are also millions of others who suffered horribly through the illness and survived, but still bear the pain of Long COVID. I doubt they would agree with those who claim it is no worse than “ordinary” flu.

I have been very fortunate, and have — since the advent of the very first flu shots many, many decades ago — been able to escape unscathed. I attribute that to the availability of vaccines, which I began getting every year after one horrendous bout of the Asian Flu, when I actually was afraid I wouldn’t die. But I now fear for all of those younger, supposedly less at-risk people around me who may not be so lucky.

And it’s all because of an unqualified, superstitious conspiracy nut who somehow managed to be appointed head of the Department of Health and Human Services by an equally unqualified, superstitious conspiracy nut — neither of whom gives a damn about the health and well-being of the people of the country they claim to love.

No one should be able to force you to take preventive measures for your own protection. But neither should anyone be able to prevent you from making those decisions for yourself, or keep you from accessing available health care when you want it.

But that is what’s happening. And I shudder to think of what the coming winter is going to bring.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/7/25

Where Donald Trump is concerned: probably never.

Because he continues to be outmaneuvered at every turn, on every subject. And he keeps coming back for more.

This time the subject is nuclear arms control. The last five-year extension of the New Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (New START) between Russia and the United States is due to expire on February 5, 2026. Looking ahead, Putin announced at a Russian Security Council meeting on September 22nd that Russia is “prepared to continue observing the … central quantitative restrictions” of the Treaty, provided the U.S. “acts in a similar spirit.” [Xiaodon Liang, Armscontrol.org, October 2025.]

Putin added that “a complete renunciation of New START’s legacy would, from many points, be a grave and short-sighted mistake [with] adverse implications for the objectives of the [nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty].” Following the proposed extension, he said that Russia would make “a careful assessment of the situation [and] a definite decision on whether to uphold these voluntary self-limitations.” [Id.]

And, while he did not mention whether U.S. agreement was required in order for Russia possibly to adopt a unilateral freeze, he did say that the measure would not be viable if the United States were to take “steps that would undermine or disrupt the existing balance of deterrence.” [Id.]

Despite the veiled threat implicit in Putin’s remarks, at a news conference on the same day, White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt said only that the proposal sounded “pretty good.” [Id.]

While still not responding to Putin’s proposal, Trump — following a sideline meeting with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky at the United Nations in New York on September 23rd — issued his surprising social media post stating that he now believed Ukraine could win back its entire territory and restore its pre-2014 borders, and that the U.S. “will continue to supply weapons to NATO to do what they want with them.” [Id.]

On September 24th, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov also met on the sidelines of the U.N. General Assembly meeting and “compared their positions on the entire bilateral agenda.” [Id.]

Last week, Russia’s U.N. Ambassador Vassily Nebenzia said that the Kremlin was still waiting for Trump to respond to Putin’s offer.

But there was no response from Trump himself until Sunday, October 5th, when a TASS (Russian News Agency) reporter queried him about it. His non-committal answer was that “ … it sounds like a good idea to me.” [Id.]

Perhaps he was late for a golf game, or busy ordering troops onto the streets of more U.S. cities, or scrolling through his enemies list for the name of his next revenge victim. But he probably should have been paying attention to the real business of the White House, because Putin was focused on the issue of whether the U.S. might be considering supplying Ukraine with long-range Tomahawk missiles.

In a video released on Sunday on Russian state television, Putin said:

“This [supplying Tomahawk missiles] will lead to the destruction of our relations, or at least the positive trends that have emerged in these relations.” [Andrea Shalal, Reuters, October 5, 2025.]

Once again, Putin has Trump in check. He made the first offer to extend the New START Treaty for another year; he waited patiently for two weeks to receive a reply; and, hearing nothing, he pounced on Trump’s sudden reversal of position on U.S. support of Ukraine — a reversal, not for the first time, based on his most recent conversation, which in this case happened to be with Zelensky.

Because that’s how he does business, and that’s how he formulates U.S. policy: not by careful consideration of facts and recommendations from experienced advisers, but by what his gut instincts tell him.

And that’s no way to run a country.

So once again he has painted himself into a corner, where he has to figure out how to keep his word to Zelensky without giving Putin grounds to back off, yet again, on ceasefire talks . . . and now also on nuclear nonproliferation.

That is, if he’s not too busy trying to keep the Epstein files buried.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/7/25

Please raise your hand if you know what a frappe is.

Well, it’s nice to see at least one New Englander in the room. Because here in the U.S., that’s the only place you’re likely to come across a frappe on the menu of your local ice cream parlor.

For the edification of those not fortunate enough to have grown up in the northeast corner of the United States — also known as “God’s country” — a frappe is what the rest of you probably refer to as a milk shake: milk, syrup and ice cream, all whipped to a thick, frothy nectar fit for the gods on Olympus.

But not in New England. Oh, no. There, a milk shake is a simpler, thinner (though still frothy) mix of milk and syrup — usually chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, or (my particular favorite) coffee. No ice cream.

If you add the ice cream, it becomes a frappe . . .

. . . except in Rhode Island, where it’s called a “cabinet,” and please don’t ask me why because I have no idea — nor, apparently, does anyone else. But having lived my first nine years in Rhode Island, I will say that nothing they do surprises me. They seem to enjoy being different just for the hell of it, possibly to avoid being overlooked because it’s the smallest state . . . much like the runt of the litter who barks the loudest.

Anyway, enough about that.

But speaking of “cabinets,” I see that the day after tomorrow — Wednesday, October 8th — is National Stop Bullying Day, which naturally brings to mind that band of bullies known as the Presidential Cabinet in the Washington White House. (Get the subtle segue?)

Don’t you agree that this would be the perfect time to bind and gag them all — together with their leader, of course — and ride them out of town on a rail?

Wow! That got a much bigger show of hands than the frappe question.

That’s it for now, folks. Feel free to applaud, and thank you for your attention to this matter.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/6/25

Each day, I write whatever happens to be on my mind, with the goal of posting it to my blog shortly after midnight. It is now 11:00 p.m. on Sunday, October 5th (EDT), and I have spent the last 12 hours doing absolutely nothing. In fact, if my bladder hadn’t been screaming at me to pay attention, I might not have bothered getting out of bed at all.

I have days like this occasionally, when the news is either so horrific, or merely repetitious, that I can’t bear to dwell on it. I did try to think of something — perhaps a childhood memory or embarrassing experience — with which to amuse you, but nothing leapt to mind.

Instead, I have over-indulged in cookies, ice cream, and other sweets between meals; watched a half dozen episodes of “Would I Lie To You?” (on BritBox, highly recommended); sorted my pills for the coming week (five prescriptions and five supplements daily, if you must know); enjoyed a two-hour chair nap; made my to-do list for the coming week, most of which will undoubtedly be carried over to the following week; and got out the Gorilla Glue to re-attach two little rubber feet that had worked their way free of my iPad case.

And I’m exhausted.

I also re-educated myself on the Jewish holiday of Sukkot, which runs for a week beginning today (Monday), and is one of the few Jewish holidays that is actually joyous.

If you’re at all familiar with the history of the Jews, you know that we have had more than our fair share of troubles — in fact, 5,786 years of them — so we’ll take all the pleasure we can muster.

I’m reminded of the lines from “Fiddler On the Roof,” when the entire Jewish community is being expelled from their Russian village of Anatevka, and someone says, with a deep sigh of resignation:

“Our forefathers have been forced out of many, many places at a moment’s notice” . . . to which Tevye the Milkman philosophically responds:

“Maybe that’s why we always wear our hats.”

So a week of celebrating the autumn harvest and recalling the miracle of the exodus to the Promised Land is most welcome — especially when we’ve just survived the 24-hour fast of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, earlier this week.

(And to all of my Christian and Muslim friends: Yes, I know one day is nothing compared to the 40 days of Lent, or the month-long observance of Ramadan; but I didn’t make the rules, so please find someone else to yell at.)

To sum it up, I find I am able to justify my one day of sybaritic self-indulgence by recalling this brilliant summation of the entire history of the Jews (original author unknown):

“They tried to kill us.
They didn’t succeed.
Let’s eat.”

*. *. *

And now, it seems, I have actually completed a submission for my Monday blog, so it wasn’t a totally wasted day after all. I think that calls for some more Haagen-Dazs.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/6/25 – 12:01 a.m.

Remember late last year, when the U.S. east coast was plagued by mystery drones buzzing military installations, Donald Trump’s Bedminster (N.J.) golf course, and other sensitive areas, and the government assured us that — while they hadn’t the foggiest notion of what those things actually were — they definitely were not a threat to our security?

One particularly interesting hypothesis came from New Jersey’s Republican Congressman Jeff Van Drew, who claimed he had heard from “high sources” that the drones detected over his state were originating from an Iranian “mothership” in the Atlantic:

“That mothership … is off the East Coast of the United States of America. They’ve launched drones into everything that we can see or hear. These are from high sources. I don’t say this lightly. [They should be] shot down.” [Bernd Debusmann, Jr., BBC News, December 12, 2024.]

But we were reassured by Connecticut’s Democrat Representative James Himes — on the always-reliable Fox News Sunday show — that he had good news:

“Now, let me say something that I know with confidence. It is not the Iranians. It is not the Chinese. They aren’t Martians. I know that’s very unsatisfying for people who want a Hollywood movie out of this.” [John Bacon and Thao Nguyen, USA Today, December 16, 2024.]

What a relief that was! But still, what were they?

Then things quieted down, the drones swhooshed out of the news, and in April of this year we learned that the U.S. Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) was testing systems to detect drones in New Jersey . . . presumably the same drones we had been told not to worry about.

By that time, the Trump team had taken over the lunatic asylum in Washington, and the new Transportation Secretary, Sean Duffy, told us the earlier sightings in New Jersey were a “drone fiasco under the last administration,” assuring the public:

“This administration has taken a completely different approach, radical transparency. The FAA is doing this to ensure we can properly detect drones in our airspace and make sure they don’t interfere with airplane navigation systems … This is about protecting our national security and American safety.” [Pete Muntean, CNN, April 15, 2025.]

And we’ve all slept more soundly since then, haven’t we?

*. *. *

But wait . . . What’s happening now in Europe? The past few weeks have seen a drone invasion that leaves last year’s U.S. experience in the shade. It started in Poland on September 10th, when a swarm of Russian drones overflew Polish airspace, prompting NATO to scramble military aircraft to intercept them and shoot some of them down.

The logical assumption here is that this was entirely unrelated to last year’s U.S. sightings; these were not Unidentified Anomalous Phenomena (UPAs, formerly referred to as UFOs), but were related to Russia’s ongoing invasion of neighboring Ukraine.

But then Denmark began reporting sightings in various areas, including above or near the Karup Air Base, the country’s biggest military base. On September 22nd, Copenhagen Airport — Scandinavia’s largest airport — was forced to shut down temporarily, creating major delays.

And now Germany is investigating claims of unidentified drones that appear to have been spying on critical infrastructure in multiple areas. Regional Interior Minister Sabine Sutterlin-Waack told a parliamentary committee that flying objects of “various types and sizes” had been spotted, including a “combined drone formation” over a university hospital and a power plant, as well as sightings over government buildings, an oil refinery, and military bases. [Associated Press, October 4, 2025.]

Munich Airport has been shut down twice in less than 24 hours following two additional drone sightings, causing serious delays for at least 6,500 passengers. [Id.]

*. *. *

So, of course, the question inevitably arises: “WTF??!!!”

Well, don’t look at me; I don’t have the answer. But there seem to be a few possibilities.

First, this rash of sightings might be, as some suspect, a Russian attempt to gauge NATO’s defensive capabilities in the event of a real invasion. That, to me, makes eminently good sense, and could actually have an advantageous effect in that it has spurred many European countries to increase their defensive positions . . . just in case “Mad Vlad” Putin is up to something even more malevolent.

Second, it could conceivably be a whole bunch of civilian mischief-makers being really stupid. But that’s doubtful — there are just too many of them, they’re too widespread, and they’re too sophisticated.

Which still leaves us with the unanswered questions about last year’s U.S. sightings. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . those really were extraterrestrials; and when they got a look at the incoming U.S. administration, they realized we were beyond salvation, left us alone, and decided to focus instead on the lovely cities of Europe, where they hoped to find that the older, more entrenched civilizations are . . . well . . . more civilized.

But then . . .

*. *. *

On second thought, maybe E.T. would be better off staying at home. We Earthlings have obviously gone batshit crazy.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
10/5/25