Showing posts with label Bill Nunnally cowardly bastard philanderer cheater abuser of wives. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bill Nunnally cowardly bastard philanderer cheater abuser of wives. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

STORYTIME BLOG HOP – JULY 27TH, 2016 - THE DAY THE CAT GOT OUT

courtesy:pinterest.com                                       


STORYTIME BLOG HOPE - JULY 27TH, 2016

THE DAY THE CAT GOT OUT

INTRO

*This is part of my “Nebraska Creepers” serial novel I've been working on. I want it to be able to work as a stand-alone, or be able to be read in one sitting. This is just an amusing little incident that occurred circa 2014 – 2016. People in later years, weren't rightly sure, because some didn't want to admit what they had seen and others claimed that they had not only been there, but had front-and-center seats; so many in fact, that, like Bob Seeger, who grew up in Ann Arbor, and shared his gym locker with 428,742 claimants, the number of people approached nearly the sum total of half of New-New Tampa, or roughly 578,943. It absolutely beggared belief.

I

Since his retirement, Paco had spent the sunnier and cooler part of the spring and late fall playing dominos in the old Brorein Park on the now-defunct part of Nebraska Avenue. Since the last and final election and Presidency of the United States, and ensuing Civil War, personal vehicles were banned, and public transportation was limited, although Paco didn't have anything to complain about. He enjoyed his time at the park, and loved talking to the younger folks who came to watch the Domino games and kibbitz. Public schooling was no longer a thing, but it really didn't seem to affect the kids; most are by nature, curious and enjoy learning. The time had come in which the social fabric had pretty much broken down completely, and frankly, Paco and his contemporaries felt the world was better off for it. Reliance on one another proved not to be such a bad thing, so, when the kids were around and asking questions about the math of Dominos, or begging for stories from the “before the War” times, Paco and his pals were happy to engage with them.

The one story they seemed to want to always hear about that had reached some legend or mythic status, was the one, everyone called “The Day the Cat Got Out”, but no one who actually was there, was really certain about what it was they had seen. Perhaps this was part of the fun and mystery of it all. It always led to a certain amount of speculation and stories that became whoppers. Such are all myths and legends started; albeit with a trace of truth at the heart of it.

II

The facts are these: one late night in October, not too long before Halloween, a woman, who had been living quietly on her own, with her aged cat, suddenly, burst out of her house, clad in black, like a Ninja Warrior, with the exception of wearing a tail and something that looked suspiciously like cat ears and whiskers, for a mask, and ran up the middle of her street, at oh say, around 1 a.m. It was surmised that she did so, because she didn't want to be observed. However, dis was da 'hood, and 1 a.m. may as well have been noon. As she ran down the street, her spine began to elongate, as did her heels on the backs and the claws on the front of her feet. She then began to run on all fours, and gained terrific speed. Startled neighbors and the local ne'er do wells, began to chase the creature, who didn't really seem to be going anywhere in particular.

Shouts of “It's a panther! A shape-shifter! I'ma shoot it!” were heard. The first round of gunfire was heard and the big cat took a quick veer to the right, a pack of people running right behind it. The big cat took a huge leap to try and jump upon a roof to get away from all of the activity and the gunfire, but missed by a foot and slid all the way down the side of the house, and left gouges in the side of the house in its wake.

Desperate, the cat attempted another leap from a sitting position and it's powerful leg muscles made the leap gracefully and nailed a solid landing on the roof. It turned around and sat, facing her adversaries, glowering. Said adversaries, now quiet, looked back. The cat lowered her head, looked at them furiously, and with a surprisingly orotund growl said “You idiots, I am your Super Hero! Knock it off with trying to kill me! This is my Trial Period on the Suit. If it doesn't work, I need to get a new one made! If ya put a hole in it, it invalidates the warranty!”

The cat then turned and ran gracefully off over the rooftops and disappeared. She was never seen again that obviously, but there were glimpses, and there was a noticeable drop in the high crime rate around the area.

III

This was the tale that Paco always tried to tell the kids, but over the years, (nearly forty of them!) the tale had transmogrified and become something epic, akin to something Thor-like coming down from the Heavens and single-handedly cleaning up the 'hood.

Paco would always shake his head and say, “No, it weren't like that, guys. She was a real flesh-and-blood human being who found out a way to use a bunch of techno Voo Doo to help her. She just a person, like you and me.”

One of the kids said, “I bet she was a alien! Or a ghost! Mebbe a shape-shifter!” Paco just shook his head. “Naw, man, she was a real person. I knew her. She bought her milk at my store. Did laundry right next to me at the Laundromat.”

The kids would look downcast and Paco would always relent; “well, maybe she did have a way about her. Who knows? There are more things unknown and unseen, here on heaven and earth. Sometimes, I still see her, sittin' watch on the roof... You could be right, although that would make her the most agile 110 year old I ever saw!”

This always made the kids happy for some reason, and really, why bust a kid's harmless dreams?

     courtesy:pinterest.com                                                                       


AUTHORS AND STORIES

Karen Lynn Dragon Smoke and Wind 
Katharina Gerlach Lobster One 
S. R. Olson Malakai's Gift 
Wendy Smyer Yu Into The Light 
Barbara Lund Separate Space 
Shana Blueming A Melting Heart 
Juneta Key Don't Drink The Water 
Angela Wooldridge Midwinter Lee Lowery All Aboard 
Elizabeth McCleary OverWhelmed

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

#IWSG - MONTHLY CHECK IN - NOVEMBER 2015


Time for the monthly #IWSG check for insecure writers for November. I, for one, am truly glad Alex reminded us to keep “on topic” and to visit others. You see, I have a tendency to ramble, deviate, run down blind alleys, and about them participles? Let them dangle. What an unholy mess! But, that is kind of the story of my life. Believe it or not, I'm really happy with it, the way it is. I not only sight-read music pretty well, and write by the seat-of-my-pants (poor #NaNoWriMo; a 3rd novel that is a sequel to nothing, if you get my drift), so, why not live my life by the seat of my pants?

I've Scoobied my way out of so many messes, it's become my default state. Want me to edit something? Ya better give me a blank piece of paper, or a paper with a bunch of anagrams on it, and I'll cobble something up for you, just don't expect any coherence out of it. I'm also kind of in the “I don't give a damn” mood, because I'm doing something right now that takes all thought and energy and focus away from every other thing in my life: I'm playing my viola. I have insecurities a-plenty about that, and not just because I'm playing over a motor disorder and finding out new ways to skirt around that. The newest thing I've discovered is to not take ANY of the medications prescribed for either that or my bipolar or depression on the day of performing and I'm fine. Take 'em after and I don't have to worry about cramping and weirdness. I know, I know, I'm off topic. But, all musicians are insecure; boy, howdy are they. But I got a “man, you rock!” after Sunday's concert from some people I hold in high esteem. That made me feel good for about 15 minutes. Then, I looked at Wolf and went, “oh yeah, I still sucketh.” We all do it.

As to writing. I'm trying like hell to dredge up some semblance of a story that will fit with what I wrote 2 years ago, when I finished NaNo and the 2nd book I didn't finish, but presumably will. I'll work on it for a while, and then just run out of steam. Part of it is the fact that maybe I'm not hungry enough, and I also have enough material from when I first started this blog, to e-publish my own “life and times” à la James Thurber, with five sections and I think that might be the smarter option, instead of trying to write this huge, sprawling epic that has characters changing names, sexes, disappearing, reappearing and I think a few of re-incarnated and not in the "X-Files" way, along with the usual plot lines that run up the previously mentioned dead ends and blind alleys. Of course, I could pretend I'm writing scripts for MST3K, always huge fun!

I have enough followers on Twitter and elsewhere, that I may actually make a tiny profit, and I have some pretty funny stories. Anyway, I've written for lo, these many years and have never sold anything, but it might be a good time to think about doing that, plus I have another project in mind that will involve both playing and writing – I'm keeping it under wraps right now, 'cause jinx and all of that. So, what say you all?



Oh, and here is some blargle and pictures from Sunday's concert. We have just one more to play in this series and then it's on to Rachmaninoff's “Piano Concerto No. 2” and some Slavonic Dances written by our own Conductor, Mark Sforzini.


  

Sunday afternoon at the Straz Center in Tampa, the Tampa Bay Symphony, led by our great Conductor, Mark Sforzini, performed an awesome concert, featuring highlights from "Madama Butterfly" by Puccini with soprano Susan Hellman Spatafora and tenor Samuel Hall, with a cameo appearance by mezzo-soprano Nicole Evans. This was preceded by Beethoven's Turkish March from the "Ruins of Athens" and then after the concert break, we played Rimsky-Korsakov's powerful "Scheherazade". The violin solo was played by our Concertmaster, Virginia Respess, and played beautifully. This orchestra just keeps sounding better and better and it was a delight to play!

For some reason, the first picture looks like my head is in a fog bank, which is probably just tangible proof of the cloud-like state of confusion I exist in, and spread most of the time and is also requirement number one for a viola-player. The second is a close-up of the most glorious Wolf, who did his part. He was in full voice and I was NOT going to let him be unseen!

Monday, April 13, 2015

#A-TO-Z CHALLENGE 2015 – LETTER “K” – EDUARD ANATOLYEVICH KHIL, (Эдуард Анатольевич Хиль) RUSSIAN BARITONE


Here is a big secret about me; I am a total kid. I know; color you shocked. As Ricky Ricardo might say, I got some 'splainin' to do. First off, I am truly a responsible adult. I pay my bills, practice my music, write my challenge posts,take my vitamins, eat all my veggies and all that good shit. After that, I'm pretty much doing what I please, when I please to do it, and not a damned bit of it is productive. For those who don't know, I'm on Disability, came out of a horrible, horrible marriage (yeah, Bill Nunnally, “savior of families” at AmericanHeartlandforChildren.org, helmed by CEO Teri Saunders, cheater on wives, and all-around abusive spouse, I'm talking about YOU, when I was hospitalized with congestive heart failure, even though, despite what YOU think I DID help you through school, cleaned your house, did your laundry and cook; I was so gullible) lost two houses, ended up homeless, in the hospital, and in physical rehabilitation, so I've damn well earned my right to do as I please.


This particular god I'm ranting about acts like the 2nd coming of Ronald Reagan. I threw in with the god who is voiced by Sean Connery, bein' a homie and all that. But seriously, there are more gods and cabals and backstabbings in this game; it's like "Game of Thrones" except we respawn.

One of those is to be a gamer, but I actually only REALLY play one game with any regularity. It's called Runescape and I've mentioned it before. Since I've been playing it for the last eight damn years, with the same people, we have a little family, of sorts, and a Clan, by the name of SpiritZ. It's probably one of the oldest clans in any game going and one of the most influential in RS. We are ranked 1185 out of 22,000 plus and we just celebrated our 10th year anniversary and I've been there for eight of those years. I'm a co-leader with two other people who have also been there for the entire time, so, we're apparently not going any where. The game has expanded, so that the higher levels are constantly challenged. It's definitely not a game for kids and although some of the “clannies” were kids when they started, several are out of college, some have started families and some are in their forties. A few are close to my age. It is truly a wonderful clan, and the people are amazing. It's pretty international, and multi-lingual. We also have something called a “TeamSpeak” wherein, we can all get on a server with headphones and mics and listen to music, or talk, during events that are dangerous and we need to coordinate. We also just get on and chat; about our lives, music, pets, what we're trying to do in the game, etc.


Eduard Khil, during the performance of his song, "I Am Glad, 'Cause I'm Finally Returning Back Home", the non-lexible vocable version, in 1975. 

So, what does all of this narrative have to with Eduard Khil? Well, one of my co-leaders decided he would put together a music channel, and took suggestions from other members. Of course, the usual suspects crept in: “The Lion Sleeps Tonight”, “The Hamster Dance”, some weird Indian ragas, and then Jer found “The Troll Song”.


While not the origin of "lame white-guy dancing" this is one HELL of a good example of it! Rick Astley singing, "Never Gonna Give You Up!" Note the non-production values. Everyone in this video looks like they just worked eight hours in an accounting office.

There is some background here. Several years back, everyone was getting “Rick Rolled”. You'd click on a link and it would take you to this video that had some dude, named Rick Astley singing this horrible tune from the '80s. The video has zero production value, just this white guy singing and trying to be cool. That meme finally faded, but it was a way to “troll” people, by having them click on one thing and then having this god-awful video pop up. Jer did it to me, and I said, “If I ever get this mess off my screen, Ima hunt you down and kill you!” To which, he said, “Tee hee” and ran off into the woods of the Great Gnome Stronghold, and when that sucker wants to hide in Runescape there is no finding him.


Eduard Khil, singing the 2:38" version of "The Troll Song". There's actually a 10-hour version of it on youtube, but there's also a 10-hour version of Hitler doing "Gangnam Style". Psy generously allowed any and everyone to do parodies of his hit. I wonder if he's regretting that now?

Anyway, Jer added the “Troll Song” to our little mix of songs that we could all sing along to (badly, over shitty microphones) and I remembered this song with giddy delight. This is my go-to song whenever I want to make people howl, during our TeamSpeak karaoke nights. It actually has "lyrics", and here they are:
AhhhhhhhhhYa ya yaaaahYa ya yaaahYaaah ya yah

OhohohohooooOh ya yaaahYa ya yaaahYaaah ya yah

Ye-ye-ye-ye-yehYe-ye-yehYe-ye-yehOhohohohoh

Ye-ye-ye-ye-yehYe-ye-yehYe-ye-yehOhohohohooooooooooo

Aaaaoooooh aaaoooHooo haha
Nah nah nah nahNuh nuh nuh

Nuh nuh nuhNuh nuh nuhNuh nuh nah!
Nah nah nah nah nun

Nun-ah nunNun-ah nuhNah nah nah nah nah!
Nah nah nah nah Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Dah dah daaaaaaaaaah...Da-da-dah....Daaah..Da-dah...

Lololololoooooooooooooo!
Lah la-laaahLa la laaahlol

haha
Ohohohohoho-ho-hoho-ho-ho

oh-ho-ho-ho-ho
Ohohohohoho-ho-hoho-ho-ho

Lololololooo...
AAIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeee-eeeee-EEEEEEEEE!
Luh-luh-lah...

LahLah-lah
Ohohohohooooooooo!BOPadudududu-dah-da-du-daaaah!

Da-da-daaaahDaaahDa-daaah...
Lololololo

lololololololLalalalah!
Trololololo

lalala
Oh-hahaha-hoHaha-hehe-hoHohoho-he-ho

Hahahaha-ho
LolololololoLolololololoLolololololo

Lololo-LOL!
Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!La-la-laaaah!La la laaaah!

LaaaahLa-lah...
Ohohohohoooooooooo!La, la-laaah!

La-la-laaahlolhaha...
Lololololo

LololoLololo
Ohohohoho!
Lololololol

LololoLololo

I was giddy with delight, having heard the song before, long ago and thinking it was just the silliest thing I had ever heard. It's replaced Rick Astley's “Never Gonna Give You Up” as the “Troll Song”, but I dug a little deeper to find out about the remarkable singer of this tune, with it's non-lyrics and slap-in-the-face key changes. Eduard Khil was born in 1934, in Smolensk, the Western Oblast (Area) of Russian SFSR, Soviet Union. He was a recipient of the People's Artist Award of the Russian SFSR, and became known to the west in 2010 when his 1976 recording of him singing a non-lexicle vocable version of “I Am Glad, 'Cause I'm Finally Returning Back Home" ("Я очень рад, ведь я, наконец, возвращаюсь домой") became an internet meme, known as “Trololol” and instantly was associated with internet trolling.


Mr. Khil receiving his Order of Merit for the Fatherland in 2009

But more than that, Eduard Khil is one HELL of a musician. Life was particularly hard on him as a kid. During what the Russians refer to as the Great Patriotic War, his kindergarten was bombed and he was separated from his mom and evacuated to Bekovo, Penza Oblast, which was several hundred kilometers from his home, which borders Lithuania and Poland. He ended up in a children's home, which lacked the basic necessities, yet, despite that, he regularly performed in front of wounded soldiers from nearby hospital.
In 1955, he enrolled in the Leningrad Conservatory, and graduated in 1960. While there, he began performing in lead operatic roles, including Figaro in “The Marriage of Figaro”.

courtesy:bjoernvold.com

Mr. Khil struck a similar chord with all of his listeners; I found this on an IT website, in his honor. The posters were saddened at his passing; he'd brought them many hours of fun. I can relate. He was a wonderful man by all accounts and a superb musician!

He fell in love with pop music, Soviet style, and began to perform popular music. This led him to winning several prizes in the next two decades. He won the “All Russian Competition for Performers” in 1962 and was invited to perform at the “Festival of Soviet Songs” [editor's note: I'm sure this was a knee-slapper] in 1965. He continued winning and performing in public until he retired from public life. He did teach solo singing at the St. Petersburg State Theatre Arts Academy, as well. He was awarded the Order of the Red Banner of Labour in 1977.

After retirement, he sang cabaret in a cafe in Paris and worked with his son in 1997 in a joint project with a band called Prepinaki and in 2009, on his 75th birthday he was awarded the Order of Merit for the Fatherland, 4th Class by Russian and in 2010 performed in St. Petersburg's Victory Day Parade.

When the non-lexicle vocable version of the song was uploaded to youtube, the quirky and catchy version went viral and Khil became known as “Mr. Trololo”, or “Trololo Man”. The song was written by Arkady Ostrovsky and there are REAL lyrics. According to Khil, it's about a cowboy, riding home to his love.Here's a sample:

I'm riding the prairie on my stallion, so-and-so mustang, and my beloved Mary is thousand miles away knitting a stocking for me."

Mebbe it's better in Russian; that so-and-so mustang:

Я скачу по прерии на своем жеребце, мустанге таком-то, а моя любимая Мэри за тысячу миль отсюда вяжет для меня чулок.”

I think it's 50-50. A lot of Soviet songs of the era are like this. At any rate, it fascinated people. It popped up on the Colbert Report, Christopher Waitz parodied it on Jimmy Kimmel Live (when does Christopher Waitz NOT parody something every time he's on Kimmel?). It made a brief appearance on “Family Guy” and “Big Bang Theory”.


I do enjoy "Family Guy" and this little clip is one of the reasons why! Enjoy!

The thing that gets me, is the music, musicianship, playing and singing are all superb. It's a happy, deliriously giddy song; one cannot listen to it without feeling immediately better. When Eduard Khil died at age 77, he was recognized as one of Russia's great singers and I have to agree. Mr. Khil made this song fun and he brings such enthusiasm to his performance. In spite of his harsh beginnings, he led a full and happy life. That is one thing that is apparent from this song; this is a happy man, singing a happy song. You can't ask for much better than that!

Friday, September 12, 2014

RUSSIA, THE UNITED STATES, SYRIA AND IRAQ - GLOBAL HEGEMONY AND HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE


Boy, what a boring-sounding title. If I were a reader of my own blog and came across this, I might be tempted to skip it, but let me see if I can make it a bit less weighty-sounding and try to relate it to the blog post I wrote recently, regarding “World War II – Was It the Last Good War?”

In response to my Twitter buddy, Jason Linkins who writes political op-ed for HuffPo and does it very well, he is absolutely thrilled that we are once again being given the opportunity to hop back into a quagmire and protect the political aspirations of a bunch of affluent politicians, I can't say he's wrong at all. Thirteen years after 9/11, we've done. . . what? Killed Osama bin Laden, sure. But we've managed to destabilize an entire region, which we seem to be immensely terrific at doing (see Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia) in the mid to latter part of the 20th century.



So, Dubya got a hair up his ass, after 19 terrorists from Saudi Arabia, backed by money provided by al-Qaeda (suspiciously close to the Saud family, who were hand-holding with the Bush family, in case anyone forgot) bombed the World Trade Center and the Pentagon (although I wonder about that) and went tearing into. . . Iraq? Only after we had staged a semi-invasion of Afghanistan, and that was always kind of iffy to me, because Afghanistan is known as bein' the “Graveyard of Empires” and all. I'm still trying to connect the dots. When Dubya made his brave assertion “Mission Accomplished” just what in the Hell was he referring to? We never really managed to “quell” the “dissidents” in either Afghanistan or Iraq, a fact that can still be measured in body counts and terrible stories of atrocities, coming out of, now, specifically, Iraq, and of all places Syria, which has it's very own home-grown Strong Man in place, the son of the late President Assad.

In all honesty, I don't know if this is a good thing, or bad. I also don't know if it's a good idea for President Obama to sit down and treat with this man, seeing as how he's got lots of his own countrymen's blood on his hands. At least, Obama isn't sitting down with al-Qaeda, which was the worst idea I ever heard, since I said “yes” to Bill Nunnally. You DO NOT treat with terrorists. Terrorists are not countries; they are not sovereign entities; they are not realms or Kingdoms. They are a bunch of zealots with nothing in their jackalheads except creating terror in the hearts and minds of the people around them to further their cause, which is usually couched in some amorphous language and difficult to attain, even with more measured people and responses. They have no mission statements; they have no credo, other than “Death to the Infidel” and are sectarian in the extreme; they will kill members of their own “faith” quicker than Christians and Jews, because those Sunnis were closer to Allah and should have understood that they were committing heresies. I liken them to the IRA at its worst. The Crusades sound more moderate, when you remember that the Christians who lived there, routinely met and worked with the other faiths in the Middle East.



And now, we come to this: I TOLD YOU SO. Russia. Last week, I implied that basically, the whole mish-mash between Russia and Ukraine should be left alone. They've squabbled and gone back and forth for centuries. They are two countries, who, while not having a lot in common, bear a very similar culture and a shared history; at times amicable, at times, downright horrible. Stalin went out of his way to starve the Kulaks, the rich Ukrainian farmers in 1934, and several million people starved to death. It has been referred to as “Harvest of Sorrow” and a fine historical book of the same name, written by Robert Conquest, depicts the horror and devastation wrought upon the Kulaks. But, again, this was not the first time Ukraine and Russia had adversarial dealings with one another and would not be the last.


Again, there are many ethnic Russians living in Ukraine, just as there are many ethnic Ukrainians who live in western Russia and Belarus. The ENTIRE region has seen many different rulers, from the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Ottoman Empire, to the Czarist rulers. It really is no wonder that one day, Ukrainians want one thing, and another day, they wish for something else. There is a kind of schizophrenic zeitgeist that exists in this entire region and when you look at the maps and how the empires overlaid one another, it is easy to understand why.
courtesy of: deviantart.com

The writer P. J. O'Rourke once went to Eastern Europe and Russia when the Iron Curtain first fell, and the salient point he took away from his experiences there, aside from all of the horrible automobiles looking like they had been made by the Dinky Toy Company, was the complete and utter confusion that the new “nation-states” wanted and why they wanted it. “We want Democracy!”, some shouted on one day. When asked why, they yelled, “Because, Democracy is good!” without having clue one what it was all about.

 courtesy of: allaboutturkey.com

Later on, during the same trip, P. J. asked some of the same people what they wanted. “We wish to stay with the Motherland!”, they shouted. When asked why, they hollered, “Because she takes care of us?”, although many were not sure this was true. This was over twenty years ago, and it is still pertinent today. If you look at the maps, you see that some of the western parts of Ukraine were in the Austro-Hungarian sphere, the southern parts in the Ottoman Empire, and the Eastern portion were part of the Russian Empire. Divestiture came in 1914, but in 1917, the Russian Revolution took place and the Communists were firmly in power, after fighting a civil war against the Royalists. After World War II, as part of the agreement at Yalta, Russia retained Ukraine, Belarus, Poland, and the other “buffer” states, as there were already ethnic Russians living in these places, and because Stalin was a murderous, land-grabbing rat-bastard. Regardless, I believe that, if by some miracle the Romanovs had remained in power, and they were somehow, by another miracle, able to best the Nazis, they would have demanded Ukraine and Belarus and all the rest as their spoils of war. This is a Russian thing; NOT a Soviet thing.

Again, it speaks to the peculiar phobia that Russia harbors towards the West and we help no one by meddling in this. To top it off, today's headline in “The World” is this:

courtesy of: HuffPo


I TOLD YOU SO!

Followed by this article:

courtesy of: HuffPo                   

I mentioned last week that the situation between Russia and Ukraine will find it's own solution. That may sound like weak sauce, but what I mean is they are better left to their own devices, especially since the west and most particularly the United States has such a horrible track record when it comes to intercession. People can quote Panama and Grenada all they want, but the simple fact is, we invaded weak 3rd world countries, one in an attempt to divert a horrendous foreign policy decision on our part, when we were involved in Lebanon, in 1983.

Let's play a "what if" scenario and see if this doesn't make a bit more sense. Suppose the United States was having some kind of squabble with Mexico, over god-knows-what. Water rights, illegal immigration, the number of donkeys displayed in crappy mariachi bands north of the border was in dispute, whatever, and things got heated. Maybe we have some troops lined up along the borders, ostensibly to keep out "undesirables". We've had our issues with Mexico in the past, but we've always managed to get them straightened out. But this time, we're dragging it along, and for some reason, both sides are being belligerent. On the outside, the rest of the world is throwing their two cents in about what a bunch of imperialist dogs the United States is, and we should never have left Merry Olde England. Yada, yada. After several weeks of this, with tensions ebbing and flowing, things get kind of mind-numbing, what with all of the other stuff going on. Then, out of the blue, or not-so, England is invaded by France and Belgium, and some not-so-nice things begin to happen. Do you honestly think that for one minute, the United States isn't going to have something to say, or do something about that situation, to mitigate and save their long-time ally? The same case can be made for Russia as regards Syria, I refuse to say "vis a vis" because it's pretentious, and I realize I am kind of shoe-horning some facts in here and making it a bit ridiculous, but it's for a reason. 

The Russian-Ukrainian relationship is a very special one; much like ours is with Great Britain. Why? Because, history.

I'm not a historian, or a military historical buff, but I do understand long arcs and how actions from the past resonate into the present. What we do now will make a difference. It might be a decade, or it might be a century. Wise men have the gift of being able to predict what our actions now will predicate for our future. I am not one of those, but I'm a damned good observer and student of global hegemony. I truly think that we should do nothing at all about the Russian-Ukraine situation and tread very, very lightly with this mess in the Middle East.


This isn't even a war movie. It's an exploration into the heart of darkness, based on a Joseph Conrad novel.


I know I called for taking a stance last week, regarding ISIS or ISIL and they are fearsome and what they are doing is beyond horrific. I cannot imagine the charnel house over there, and the suffering of the people who live there. I have friends in Tunisia and Morocco and Egypt and I fear for them, but we did a terrible job in Iraq. We destabilized the country; something we excel at, and upon our departure(?) we managed to foist some mediocre bureaucrat upon the country, along with a less-than-useful fighting force. This is nothing but Vietnam Redux. Francis Ford Coppola did a much better job with “Apocalypse Now Redux” and it still sucked. Watch the original. But, let's not create our own “Iraq Redux”. That's nothing anybody wants to sit through.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

#ROW80 - 1ST QTR 2014 - POST 9 - TO RUSSIA WITH LOVE

It is hard for me to take any one aspect of this magnificent country and write about it in one post. This huge, sweeping land, that has seen more than it's share of tragedy and bloodshed, much of it self-inflicted, is a testament to patience and hardiness; the people themselves, a blend of Mongol, Cossack, White Russian, Rus and little blobs of colonies that settled over the centuries, containing surprising mixes of Circassian near the Black Sea, and Yakuts in the north, are the true gold and wonder of this land. A land I have been passionately in love with since I was a kid and I asked my father why Communism was bad and for once, he had no answer.

His concession meant much to me later on; there really was no clear answer that he could give me in words I would understand at the time, as I was a child. It would be up to me to find out. I figured I already had a start because I was busy plowing through Tchaikovsky's ouvre of lighter works; “1812 Overture”, “Marche Slave”, and the “Nutcracker”; listening to them on first, a turn-table, then a Magnavox Stereo, wired-up by my father, so that the house shook with the sound of cannon-fire in the Overture's Finale. But all I was really exposing myself to at the time, was a Russian composer's depictions of Napoleon's ill-fated march on Moscow, the Crimean War, in which “Crimea Doesn't Pay” (a horrible, horrible Mr. Peabody and Sherman joke from 1961) and a much-loved ballet that was probably highly influenced by the French, who at the time, were pretty firmly entrenched within the Russian Court. So entrenched, in fact, that at one time, the Russian nobles didn't speak Russian, they communicated in French.


Some of my Russian History classes in college required French as a pre-requisite because for centuries, the Russian aristocracy didn't speak, read or write any Russian. For someone who is not a natural polyglot, it was a bit of an overload. My Spanish is worse than my Russian; my French is non-existent, yet I took Spanish for seven years and Russian for two. I skipped French altogether and relied on cognates. Go figure.

This may be partly due to the fact that during the reign of Peter the Great, he took the Busman's tour and spent approximately eighteen months in western Europe, incognito and learned how to build ships, learned about architecture and science and as much as he could about the art of warfare. He returned home precipitously as there was an uprising amongst the boyars (barons) called the Bulavin Rebellion. By the time he returned home, the rebellion had been crushed. Peter was determined to drag Russia kicking and screaming, if need be, into the 18th century; he made the boyars assume western dress, rather than wearing the loose, oriental-style robes they had worn previously, and Peter ordered them to shave their much-loved beards. If they chose not to do so, they were required to pay an annual beard tax of 100 rubles.

Autocratic, and often brutal, Peter is responsible for much of the modernization that occurred in Russia during that period. Once he had built a navy, he began a campaign of conquest, primarily in his search for warm-water ports, ever important, in a country striving to become an economic trading-partner and an even larger goal in the Russians' eyes; prove themselves equal, if not greater on the world's stage. After a little tiff with the Ottoman Empire, Peter made a temporary peace with the Ottomans, which allowed him to keep the fort at Azov and turn his attentions to building an even more formidable navy and, oh, yeah, this in turn allowed him to look to the north and Sweden, ruled by Charles XII.


Charles XII. Actually, his nose looked like it partook of the "Battle of the Cannons" with Peter and August II.

I should mention here that Sweden was once feared, and had its own Empire and a formidable army and Charles was no slouch when it came to being a Military strategist. Peter coveted control of the Baltic Sea, which had been taken from the Russians by the Swedes 50 or so years earlier. One thing about the Russians that is a constant: if they have owned or lived on, a piece of land and lost it, no matter how distantly in the past, they will move heaven and earth to reclaim it and protect it. Remember KAL flight 007, shot down September 1, 1983, over Russian Territory, called Sakhalin Island? I do, and while the rest of the world wrung its hands, I understood it perfectly in the context of Russia's history; during the 20th Century, they were invaded in 5 separate wars, 3 of which most Americans know nothing about, because most Americans are ignorant of world history and how it affects current Global Hegemony.

This is a given. The other given is that they are oriental, or Asiatic in their patience, much like the Scots (I. e. my father got his ass put in a jail cell in Heathrow, in 1985, for 48 hours for bitching about how the English stole Scotland. The Customs took one look at his passport, saw his surname and in the hoosegow he went. The incident he was referring to occurred in 1297 A. D. – ya gettin' all this, Lithia?), and they will wait, and wait, and wait, but by God, they will take back what was taken from them. But, again, I digress.


One thing that all cold-weather countries have in common; they love to drink and drink to excess. Being a Scot, I can totally relate; it was said that Boris Yeltsin had to have his blood completely replaced from time to time, he was so pickled. I can believe that. The Russian word for "vodka" is very close and kin to the word for "water". It is literally, life, and comes in so many different varieties and flavors it boggles the mind and pallet!
Peter The Great

Peter lost his first battle against Charles, but Charles went from there and stepped right into a big pile of Polish-Lithuanian Commonweatlh, which gave Peter time to re-organize his army. As a side note, it should be mentioned that Peter met with the Polish King Augustus II the Strong, where the two rulers, after several days of boozing it up, arranged a cannon-shooting competition. Augustus II the Strong won, which by that time, I imagine, he could have been called Augustus II the Deaf. Just kidding.Peter took advantage of the lull in battle, and as the Swedes and the Poles duked it out, he built a city. He founded the city of Saint Petersburg, in a province of the Swedish empire, which he had retaken, but that had originally belonged to the Russians. In typical Peter logic and behavior, he forbade the building of all statues outside of the city, so that he could hog all the stonemasons in Russia. It should be noted that when he returned from his “Grand Embassy” tour, he brought quite a contingent of brain-power and skilled artisans with him. If he couldn't coax, he would buy. He had a United Nations batch of shipwrights, naturalists, architects and scientists.

Saint Petersburg was built on a swamp and it was built with every possible resource and bit of manpower diverted from all parts of the country to that cause. It was to become a showcase city and in concession to the swamp, is a city of canals. Like Edinburgh, Scotland, it is called the “Venice of the North”. Saint Petersburg is also the city of “white nights”; being so far north, the sun does not set, but sits low in the sky. It is a city of magic and beauty.


The Mariinsky Theatre which houses both the Ballet and Opera; with the typical Russian confusion and re-naming of things, the Kirov Ballet is now the Mariinsky Ballet, yet is still referred to as Kirov, yet is housed in the Mariinsky Theatre. Got that?

The city is home to the Kirov ballet, not the Saint Petersburg ballet and there is a terrible and sad reason for this. Post-Lenin, after 1929 and into the 30s, Sergei Kirov, who was the Commissar, of Governor of Leningrad, (the former Saint Petersburg) had been a rising star in the Politburo and up until a party split over the more draconian implementations of party laws, when Kirov sided with the “Trotskyites” (in Stalin's view and in hindsight, anyone who wasn't four-square with him), Kirov was a devoted Stalinist. The split saw the majority of the Politburo siding with Kirov, who urged Stalin to basically cool his jets with the proletariat and lay off the executions and sending people off to Siberia.

In the spring of 1934, in a conciliatory and a mitigating move to the people, Kirov argued that a majority of people should be released from the prisons to work the collective farms and push forward industrialization; a realization of Lenin's dream. Once again, Stalin found himself a minority in the Politburo and after years of scheming and rearranging positions to put himself in a position of assuming total power and realizing that he could not count on rubber-stamp support from the people he had placed in strategic positions, he, in what would become recognizable as the beginnings of his paranoid-purge style of ruling, began to wonder if Kirov, a much younger man, was willing to wait for his mentor to die before assuming total power of the Bolshevik Party.

During their annual summer vacation on the Black Sea at the Dachas, Stalin, who treated Kirov like a son, tried to persuade the younger man to leave Leningrad and come back to Moscow and sit on the Politburo with him, rather than remain the Commissar of Leningrad. Kirov refused and Stalin believed that he had lost the support and loyalty of his young protegé. 

 
Kirov was viewed as a moderate and was a stalwart supporter of his people in his district. This had more to do with his refusal of Stalin's offer of a higher position within the party if he returned to Moscow, than any thoughts of betrayal of Stalin. His death changed the course of Russian history and Communism and certainly hastened the deaths of others within the inner party circle. Stalin's three-decade rule put the imprimatur on an economic and political system that was entirely different than what Lenin and Trotsky had in mind.

On December 1, 1934, Kirov was assassinated by a young party member. Many within the Politburo noted of the “hundreds of party members rounded up and summarily shot in Leningrad, while others were dragged from prison cells and executed.” The usual suspects were rounded up, meaning most of the other party members, particularly the inner circle, who had looked askance and verbalized there views to Stalin (something encouraged under Lenin, but not so much after his death) and they were interrogated.

Communist party members abroad weighed in on the brew-ha-ha and confusion reigned, until they finally managed to implicate practically the entire Politburo, including Trotsky, who was already in exile and had been expelled from the Communist party. He was safely ensconced in Norway, at the invitation of Trgyve Lie and had actually helped Kirov during the Civil War; Kirov was taught on the job, soundly beating General Antonin Deninkin of the White Army. Trotsky's Red Army became a superb fighting machine; an example of turning the pen into a sword and using it with skill, but it had to be done by putting on blinkers and elbowing other ambitious, yet ignorant party members to the side. Trotsky was not popular with others, but he was true to Lenin's original vision of what the USSR should be. As time went on, and Stalin gathered more and more power, the inner circle began to see the error of what they had, in fact, been warned about. But it was too late.

Of course, Stalin was a pallbearer at Kirov's funeral and there were several monuments, cities, towns and burgs named after him, most of which reverted back to their original names after the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. But the most enduring and the loveliest of these remains, and it is one of the Russian traditions of high art: The Kirov Ballet. Located in Saint Petersburg (now, also renamed back from “Leningrad” although, when I was studying Russian history and this time period, World War II, it will always be “Leningrad” just as “Stalingrad” will always be Stalingrad, as it evinces a whole different set of pictures, for me than “Volgograd”) along with The Bolshoi Ballet, perhaps the oldest in them all and the crown jewel of ballets, this one city houses two of the finest ballet companies in the world.

It was far easier for Stalin to cover up the assassination of Kirov, with the “uncovering” of plots and then haul in his enemies, real and imagined, a tactic he employed for decades. He went from the party to the Red Army, shortly before World War II and that is one of the main reasons the early days of the war for Russia against the Nazis was so disastrous; the High Command and most of the Red Army Officers, Strategists and Field Officers were dead. People like Nikita Kruschev and Vasily Chuikov and his brothers emerged from the rank-and-file to become part of the new Red Army that would save Mother Russia.

Ио́сиф Виссарио́нович Ста́лин
 Iosif Vissarionovich Djugashvili

Stalin's porn 'stash and Hitler's upside-down soul patch could have fought it out and spared some 100,000,000 lives plus, just in Western Europe alone. Russia took the heaviest casualties, with estimates as high as 55,000,000. By contrast, the United States had approximately 460,000 casualties, military and civilian in World War II. As a country and as part of our zeitgeist, we have no clue what suffering really is, as a nation, and should be grateful for that.

Adolf Hitler













Kruschev is remembered for his shoe-banging during the 902nd plenary meeting of the UN General Assembly; this may have been in an attempt to liven things up. I can't imagine 902 meetings of anything that would be interesting. He's also remembered for his famous statement “We will bury you [America] upon the ash heap of History!” and for the Ten Days of October, when Kennedy went eyeball-to-eyeball with him, and Kruschev stood down. But within Russia herself, Kruschev was a reformer. He allowed the 1st publication of “A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich” a short novel, by AlexanderSolzhenitsyn. It quickly spread to the west and it was eagerly read by one and all. There were at least two copies of it in my house as I was growing up. I found a 3rd recently, as I was going through some old stuff I thought I'd lost, when I lost my 2nd house.

The book is a marvelous little gem that describes Ivan's (pronounced Ĭ·văhn, with the stress on the 2nd syllable) day; as he gets up, eats, does his chores, negotiates with the “guards” for extra goodies, talks to the other prisoners and finally goes to bed at night. An instant hit in the USSR, it has remained timeless and is a wonderful expression of one man's hope and ability to hang on and appreciate what he has around him.

Kruschev's little spring didn't last however, and he was more or less deposed. He was pensioned off to his dacha on the Black Sea (Sochi sits on the western coast of the Black Sea, and at the foot of the Caucasus Mountains) and a little apartment in Moscow. He was seen as too liberal; we used to play a game when they had their May Day Celebrations and everyone marched through Red Square in front of the Premiere and the other members of the Politburo. It was like reading tea leaves. Who was in favor and who was out of favor? Who stood closest to the Big Cheese and who had disappeared altogether? In those days it was a difficult game to play, since we had so few glimpses behind the Iron Curtain, and when we did, we weren't always given a play list to follow along at home.


This is Novedevichy Cemetery and is far more interesting than the tombs and columbarium in Krasnya Ploshad (Red Square) Both Kruschev and Kirov are buried here, along with many other heroes of the Great Patriotic War. It is also a "mom and pop" cemetery and it is not unusual for folks to come and sit with their ancestors. This is a headstone for a Major General. The tank is a T-34. They held 4 men and were the terror of the Wehrmacht up and down the 1,000 mile-front line, but they were especially effective at the Battle of Kursk, where the little, agile tanks caught German General Guderian's juggernaut and the tide turned, in 1943. Later, it was said, the "German Wehrmacht stuck its tongue in a meat grinder." The southern salient was broken and the Germans began their slow, hellish retreat back to Berlin.
That was a shame then, because as I studied the country and people; her leaders and artists, I've become quite fond of them; foibles and all. As Churchill said, Russia is an “enigma inside a riddle wrapped in a puzzle” or something. He forgot the labyrinth. The country, with all of her mixture of east and west, Byzantine and Occidental is a tantalizing amalgam of seeming contradictions. Fire and ice. Hot and cold. A people who are at once stoic, yet feel more passionately, than any I've ever encountered.

Of course, now I can go back and read all of the supposed “secret” histories and fill in the blanks and it's fun. This is more of a ramble through history than it is a true lesson. I know more about her music and composers and musicians (firsthand) than anything else about Russia. The second-most thing I know is the history of her Great Patriotic War, as seen through the eyes of composers like Prokofiev and Shostakovich and oddly enough, through the best sniper's journal in history, Vasily Zaitsev, as he stalked the German High Command in the ruins of Stalin and fought a deadly, 3-day duel with his German Counterpart, Major Erwin König, fresh from the Berlin War College. But, once more, I digress.

I think if my father were alive today, he would articulate to me, that it wasn't Communism that was bad, but it was in the way it was employed within the USSR. Lenin's idea went sour with his early death and Marx-Engels were never meant for an agrarian society; "The Communist Manifesto" was written with the nascent industrialized era just beginning and with that in mind. I think he would also say that extremism; fascists, theocracies, tyrannical despots and absolute power always, always ends badly, whether right-winged or left-winged; fascism or communism. But, he wouldn't have to explain that to me, for I had already learned the precepts of freedom, human rights and the dignity every human being should be accorded. I learned that from him.


For the next several days, I plan on writing on some aspect of Russian history, or music, or people. I should mention that it hasn't been just the Olympics that spurred this outpouring of love for this magnificent country and people. I was looking at my stats for my blog. My second largest audience outside of the United States is. . . you guessed it, Russia.