This is from a fellow blogger in New Zealand:

***

June 18 marks Autistic Pride Day, a day that stands as both a celebration and a declaration: autistic people are not broken, lesser, or in need of …

Autistic Pride Day 2025: A Celebration of Worthiness, Not Superiority

My nominee for U.S. envoy to Russia and the Middle East:

That should wrap things up rather nicely, don’t you agree?

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
6/17/25

The “big, beautiful parade” in Washington on Saturday was sufficiently horrifying to remind me of my one and only encounter with a military deployment in that city, more than five decades ago. (I realize I’m giving away my age here, but what the hell . . . there’s no denying it any longer.)

It was early April, 1968. Martin Luther King, Jr., had been assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee, on April 4th, sparking race riots and other civil disturbances in more than 100 cities across the United States. The most violent of these occurred in Chicago, Baltimore . . . and Washington.

For four days, predominantly Black neighborhoods in the city were subjected to rampages of arson, looting, and general destruction — far too widespread for the D.C. police to handle on their own. President Lyndon Johnson had no choice but to call in the National Guard to assist in the defense of the federal jurisdiction. When it was over, 13 people were dead, around 1,000 more injured, and over 6,000 had been arrested.

On that Friday evening, April 5th, I sat in the top-floor apartment of friends across the Potomac River in Arlington, Virginia, with the most morose group of people I had ever encountered outside a funeral parlor. For hours, we sat, barely speaking . . . just getting quietly drunk as we watched the glow of the burning areas of the capital city on the other side of the river.

I lived in a Virginia suburb, and was safely removed from the danger as long as I didn’t go back to work in D.C. But it was the weekend, and we were all certain the worst would be over by Monday. I just hadn’t counted on my sister’s problem.

She was living in an apartment in D.C., in a “safe” neighborhood. But there was one part of her routine that she was adamant about not breaking, and that was her regular Saturday appointment with her hairdresser . . . whose shop was in Alexandria, Virginia. She didn’t own a car — in fact, she didn’t drive at all — so she regularly rode the bus back and forth. But a curfew had been instituted, as I recall, for 5:00 p.m., so she expected to be home in plenty of time, and off she went. Then, at nearly 2:00 p.m., the D.C. authorities moved the curfew back to 3:00 p.m., and the buses stopped running into the city.

And now you’re thinking: No problem. She could just stay with me . . . right? Ordinarily, that is exactly what we would have done. But, on that weekend of all weekends, she had a friend from California staying with her, who was now alone in the apartment in D.C. My sister had to get home.

So of course, she called the one person she knew who was crazy enough to say yes. At 2:00 p.m., I jumped into my Chevy Corvair — a cute little car that got great mileage but wasn’t built for speed — and headed for the Capital Beltway, the fastest way to get from one part of suburban Virginia to another without worrying about stop lights. As I drove, I was listening to the news on the radio, thinking only of how long it would take for each segment of the trip, and calculating how much time I would need to get back over one of the bridges into Virginia before curfew.

You see, I had left my two children, then ages 4 and 2, with my mother, and couldn’t get stuck in D.C.

When I noticed that all the other cars on the highway seemed to be standing still, I took my eyes off the road for a second to glance at the speedometer and saw that — holy crap! — I was doing 90 m.p.h. In a little Corvair. On a 60-m.p.h. road. What a great little car she turned out to be.

I slowed down a little, but not much, until I reached my exit from the highway. When I got to the beauty salon in Old Town Alexandria, my sister was waiting. But there was another problem: I was low on gas. There was also a curfew in place on the sale of gas, presumably to prevent the rioters from stocking up for their Molotov cocktails, so I had to find a station on the Virginia side. That done, we headed for town.

Traffic going into the city was understandably light, so I got her home safely, watched while she went inside, and looked at my watch. It was 2:35 p.m., so I had 25 minutes to make it to the closest river crossing, which was the Memorial Bridge. No problem.

I headed south on New Hampshire Avenue, which would take me to Washington Circle, where I would then pick up 23rd Street directly to the Lincoln Memorial and Memorial Bridge. So far, so good. And then, suddenly, there they were.

Headed north on New Hampshire Avenue, coming toward me, was something I had never seen before: a convoy of military vehicles — no tanks, but a half dozen or so heavy-duty trucks and jeeps. It was like a scene from an old war movie . . . something that would have seemed in place in a European city, but not here. And as I continued to move slowly forward, the lead jeep suddenly made a sharp left turn directly into my path . . . and stopped dead, blocking my southbound lane.

What the hell? It was now 2:40 p.m., and I was immobilized. I saw a young soldier, carrying a rifle with fixed bayonet, leave the jeep and begin walking toward my car. He couldn’t have been more than 19 or 20 years old, and he looked scared to death. But he followed orders, walked over to my car as I rolled down my window, and said, “Excuse me, ma’am. Do you know there’s a 3:00 curfew?”

“Ma’am”? Did he just call me “Ma’am”??!!! I wasn’t much older than he was.

Putting aside the fact that this boy had just aged me ten years, I looked at him and saw that he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do. So I took mercy on him, and answered as gently as possible: “Yes, I know that. That’s why I’m trying to get back to Virginia before then. That’s where I’m headed now.”

Silence. He didn’t know what to do next, and the clock was ticking. Then I noticed movement to my left, and saw a D.C. police officer walking toward the car. He appeared to be around 40 years old, experienced, and calm. He asked what the problem was, and since the young soldier had obviously been struck dumb at some point, I answered, explaining that I had just driven my sister home and was headed back to Virginia before curfew.

The nice officer turned to the soldier — who, of course, was still clinging to his rifle, apparently for support — and said, “Son, you’re supposed to stop people coming into the city, not leaving it. Now, why don’t you move that jeep and let her get home.”

And that seemed to snap the younger man back into consciousness. The jeep was inched back just far enough for me to squeeze through, I thanked the police officer (my guardian angel) profusely, and made a beeline for the border. It was now 2:45 p.m.

Bottom line: I was not only out of D.C., but all the way home, by 3:00 p.m. I didn’t bother to check the speedometer along the way.

*. *. *

That was a time of legitimate need for National Guard reinforcements: massive, violent riots in the federal city of Washington, D.C., the nation’s capital. Not localized, contained demonstrations in Los Angeles; and not the wholesale roundup of peaceful foreigners from their homes, schools, and workplaces around the country.

And not a Red Square-style display of military might tearing up the surface of Pennsylvania Avenue for a little boy who always wanted a parade for his birthday.

Comparing the situations does rather put things into perspective, doesn’t it?

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
6/17/25

He was going to end Russia’s war against Ukraine within 24 hours of taking office in January. Five months later, he’s still struggling to understand what Vladimir Putin is really about, and how to avoid having to admit he failed.

Now Donald Trump is trying to convince the world that he hopes to be able to bring an end to the growing conflict between Israel and Iran, saying on Sunday that “I think there’s a good chance there’s going to be a deal. I think it’s time for [a] deal and we’ll see what happens, but sometimes they have to fight it out.” [Kit Maher, CNN, June 16, 2025.]

The man seems to have serious difficulty with committing to a firm stance. Or perhaps . . . in fact, more likely . . . he’s just giving himself the wiggle room he needs in order to change direction when things don’t go his way.

Alleging that “we get along really well” with Iran, and that he believes Israel and Iran “have great respect for each other” (I have no idea where he came up with that last one!), he has thus far declined to say whether he has asked Israel to pause its attacks on Iran, commenting only, “I don’t want to say that.” [Id.]

It’s becoming his scripted response to conflicts anywhere in the world. When discussing the Russia-Ukraine war, he had this to say from the Oval Office earlier this month:

“Sometimes you see two young children fighting like crazy. They hate each other, and they’re fighting in a park, and you try and pull them apart. They don’t want to be pulled, sometimes you’re better off letting them fight for a while and then pulling them apart” [id.] . . . as though that had been his strategy all along.

Well, that may work well enough with two equally-matched kids on the playground — as long as they don’t end up beating the living daylights out of each other. But at least they’re not equipped with armies, missiles, drones . . . or nuclear weapons.

Someone needs to tell Trump it’s time to stop thinking like a kid in the schoolyard, and perhaps formulate some honest-to-goodness foreign policy. Of course, for that he’d need actual expert advice, which these days is in short supply in Washington. And even if such advice were available, he’d first have to learn to shut up and start listening.

And good luck with that.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
6/16/25

The machines have taken over my iPad, and stolen my blog. I haven’t been able to retrieve it, re-download the blog site, or sync with my phone — which, through some miracle, has retained everything, thus at least saving me from thoughts of suicide.

But trying to compose a full-length post without a keyboard would take forever and drive me over the edge. So until I can solve the problem, brendochka.com will be quieter than usual.

Or maybe I’ll try my laptop later. Right now, I’m too frustrated to do much of anything. Except maybe reach for the Häagen-Dazs.

And then to sleep, perchance to dream. So for now . . .

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka

6/16/25

It has been heartening — and reminiscent of the anti-Vietnam War movement of the 1960s — to see the American people coming together to protest the excesses of a presidential administration that has become increasingly fascistic by the day.

And it has come as a tremendous relief to note that yesterday’s widespread protests were so successful . . . not only in scope, but in their peaceful, patriotic nature.

Yet even within the mostly well-reasoned arguments of the anti-Trump movement, there have been a number of calls for impeachment — one even issued by none other than Elon Musk (though he quickly retracted it, admitting he had gone too far).

And those suggestions of impeachment worry me . . . not because they are unwarranted, but because I believe that is the last thing this country needs, for a number of reasons.

To begin with, it is unlikely that the present Congress — with a Republican majority in both houses — would be likely to convict. The entire disruptive exercise will have been a waste of time and effort, and would only have given Trump further cause to crow about his professed indestructibility.

But even more disturbing, to my mind, is what we would be facing if impeachment were unexpectedly to result in conviction, and Trump were removed from office. Unless we could somehow also impeach and convict the next three people in the line of succession, we would be stuck with:

*. *. *

Now, someone tell me that’s not just a little disturbing. To me, it’s right at the top of the “be careful what you wish for” category.

But that doesn’t mean we have to survive another three and a half years of the erosion of all that makes this country great. Our courts are doing their best to maintain the rule of law, and must be pressed to continue on course. The Supreme Court, however heavily weighted to the conservative side, must also be made to realize the urgency of the situation and reminded of its mandate: that is, to uphold the laws and the Constitution of the United States, without bias or political consideration.

Finally, there is Congress. In less than a year, we will be in the throes of mid-term elections that will determine the balance of both the Senate and the House of Representatives. And that is where our power — the power of the people — comes into play.

It is up to us to choose, and choose wisely, who will represent our interests in the coming years. And that means we must educate ourselves as to the histories, political records, and characters of the candidates — of both parties — and not merely base our selections on campaign promises. We’ve all seen how much those are worth!

*. *. *

In short, we must keep up the fight to keep America free . . . to keep America strong . . . and to keep America, America. I think the person holding this sign in one of yesterday’s protests said it rather well:

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
6/15/25

His story first came to my attention back in September 2024, when a woman identifying herself on Facebook as the sister of American Stephen James Hubbard wrote that her 72-year-old brother, a retired school teacher who had been living in Izyum, Ukraine, for some ten years, had been kidnapped by Russian forces in 2022 and was being held on charges of fighting as a mercenary on behalf of Ukraine.

At first, all that was known was that a hearing on Hubbard’s case had been scheduled in Moscow for October 3, 2024. But it was soon learned that his trial had actually begun on September 27th, and was scheduled to continue on October 3rd. If convicted of the charges against him, he could receive a sentence of seven to fifteen years in prison . . . at his age, and under the harsh conditions of life in a Russian penal colony, a virtual life sentence.

On October 5th, the Moscow court announced that the closed-door trial had resulted in Hubbard’s admission of guilt, and that — upon the request of prosecutors, allegedly in deference to Hubbard’s age — he had been sentenced to the minimum seven years, to be served in a maximum-security penal colony.

And then he vanished.

Finally, in April of this year, his family and his U.S.-based legal team were able to track him down in a prison facility in the Mordovia region of Russia, some 275 miles east/southeast of Moscow. Though U.S. officials have requested his immediate release, consular access to him has been denied. But he has finally been allowed to communicate remotely from prison, about which his American attorney, Martin De Luca, had this to say:

“The first thing Hubbard wanted to talk about when he was able to make contact with the outside world was: ‘It’s not true.’ They [Russian soldiers] grabbed him from his house. He was not in any combat or military unit.” [Lucy Papachristou, Reuters, June 13, 2025.]

And Hubbard’s son, Joseph Coleman of Cyprus, said he was able to speak to his father by phone for less than five minutes on May 28th:

“He did sound a little down. He said, ‘I’m tired of being a slave.’” [Id.]

A masterpiece of understatement, no doubt.

*. *. *

Of the nine Americans currently imprisoned in Russia, Hubbard, now aged 73, is the only one officially designated by the U.S. as “wrongfully detained,” which gives him the best chance of being returned home in a future prisoner exchange; and his recent reemergence is reason for cautious optimism. Further, the Kremlin said last month that the two sides had been in discussions concerning a possible swap involving nine people on each side, though no names have been released as yet.

This is making it difficult to type, but my fingers seem to be stuck in a crossed position until all nine Americans — and the other political prisoners of various nationalities — are returned safely home.

And once again, here they are:

Prisoners of War:

The People of Ukraine
The Azov 12

Political Prisoners:

David Barnes
Ales Bialiatski (in Belarus)
Gordon Black
Andrei Chapiuk (in Belarus)
Antonina Favorskaya
Konstantin Gabov
Robert Gilman
Stephen James Hubbard
Sergey Karelin
Ihar Karney (in Belarus) on
Vadim Kobzev
Darya Kozyreva
Artyom Kriger
Uladzimir Labkovich (in Belarus)
Michael Travis Leake
Aleksei Liptser
Ihar Losik (in Belarus)
Mikita Losik (in Belarus)
Daniel Martindale
Farid Mehralizada (in Azerbaijan)
Nika Novak
Marfa Rabkova (in Belarus)
Igor Sergunin
Dmitry Shatresov
Robert Shonov
Eugene Spector
Valiantsin Stafanovic (in Belarus)
Siarhei Tsikhanouski (in Belarus)
Laurent Vinatier
Robert Romanov Woodland
Vladislav Yesypenko (in Crimea)
Yuras Zyankovich (in Belarus)

. . . and any others I may have missed.

Safe home, everyone!

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
6/15/25

With all of the hoopla about other world events today, let us — we Americans, at least — not forget that today is also Flag Day: the anniversary of the designation by the Continental Congress, in 1777, of the Stars and Stripes as the official flag of the United States of America.

And long may she wave . . . in peace, freedom, and honor.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
6/14/25

I can’t believe I nearly overlooked this headline in last week’s online news:

“Trump Wants Everyone To Know He’s Building A Big, Beautiful Ballroom“

At first I thought, “Well, so what? He must have ballrooms at Mar-a-Lago and other of his properties. What’s one more?”

And then I saw that this one isn’t personal; it’s going to be built in the White House. The White House in Washington that is owned — not by Donald or any member of the Trump family — but by the people of the United States of America . . . built, maintained and supported by taxpayer money.

That White House.

And I had to wonder — in this era of professed government “austerity” (i.e., the wholesale elimination of jobs and life-saving programs) — how this could be possible. But when I read his justification, it made complete sense. See if you agree:

“Just inspected the site of the new Ballroom that will be built, compliments of a man known as Donald J. Trump, at the White House. For 150 years, Presidents, and many others, have wanted a beautiful Ballroom, but it never got built because nobody previously had any knowledge or experience in doing such things — But I do, like maybe nobody else.

“These are the ‘fun’ projects I do while thinking about the World Economy, the United States, China, Russia, and lots of other Countries, places, and events.” [Lydia O’Connor, Huffpost, June 6, 2025.]

You get it now, don’t you? It’s all about the “fun” part of being President. Not greed, or an ego the size of Asia, or a neurotic need to believe he’s bigger and smarter and better than anyone else ever has been in the entire history of the world . . . or, in his own words, “like maybe nobody else.”

Of course, he’s entitled to a little fun: a $40 million parade that just happens to fall on his birthday . . . or spending nearly every weekend golfing at Mar-a-Lago or one of his other resorts . . . or sending out the Marines to inflame an already largely contained, relatively minor situation in Los Angeles.

Just as long as he continues “thinking about the World Economy, the United States, China, Russia, and lots of other Countries, places, and events,” he’ll be doing his job and we can all sleep soundly.

Though I do hope all that “thinking” doesn’t spoil his fun . . . don’t you?

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
6/14/25

As of this month, an estimated 19,500 children have been identified by Ukrainian authorities as having been forcibly relocated to Russia, Belarus, or Russian-occupied areas within Ukraine. Some have been placed with Russian families for adoption; others are in “reeducation” facilities; all are being brainwashed to become Russian citizens.

For three years, the U.S. State Department has funded Yale University’s Humanitarian Research Lab, part of its School of Public Health, which has been the principal body tracking Russia’s alleged war crimes, including the abduction of Ukrainian children. But now, that funding has been terminated by Donald Trump’s DOGE — Department of Government Efficiency — in their mad frenzy to cut spending in areas they consider superfluous.

And apparently, the lives of those children have been deemed by the U.S. government to be expendable.

The Lab’s executive director, Nathaniel Raymond, has said that funding has all but run out:

“Right now, we are running on fumes, we have about two weeks of money left, mostly through individual donations from our website. As of July 1, we lay off all of our staff across Ukraine and other teams and our work tracking the kids officially ends. We are waiting for our Dunkirk moment, for someone to come rescue us so that we can go attempt to help rescue the kids.” [Kylie Atwood, CNN, June 11, 2025.]

And if there is no “Dunkirk moment” — no 11th-hour miracle — those children may well be lost forever in the morass of Russian bureaucracy, never to be returned to their homes and families.

The Lab’s database containing the identities and other information on the abducted children has been transferred for preservation to the Ukrainian government and the U.S. State Department. The work done thus far by Yale has provided invaluable support to the International Criminal Court, which has issued six indictments against Russia for war crimes against Ukraine — two of them related specifically to the abduction of children.

But without funding, continuation of the Lab’s work will be impossible. A bipartisan group of U.S. Representatives, including Democrat Lloyd Doggett, has written Secretary of State Marco Rubio in support of reinstating the funding, saying in part:

“Research must continue unabated to maintain the rigorous process of identifying every Ukrainian child abducted by Russia. The [Ukraine] Conflict Observatory has verified that at least 19,500 children have been forcibly deported from occupied areas of Ukraine, funneled into reeducation camps or adopted by Russian families, and their identities erased.” [Id.]

I can’t help thinking that the $40 million being spent on Donald Trump’s birthday parade today could instead have gone a long way toward helping those child victims of Putin’s war. Maybe I just have my priorities wrong . . . but somehow, I don’t believe I do.

Not this time.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
6/14/25