i’ve been waiting for such a turn, thank you, ahh.  when you look @ maps, & you have maps, & can connect roads, passes & strangleholds as no other…almost all the bri maps fix an end on or very near germany.  for a while i thought, O well, germany (europe) will be bankrupt, they won’t be in the market for much, other than grain, perhaps used pre-owned cars & clothing so the bri connections to EU & germany will wilt & wither.  dust to dust, another route will supersede.  but should the population rouse themselves the Rest awaits.  china will be delighted to engage with  german businesses, there’s always room for another, let’s see if your cars are still worth our while, or hey maybe you wanna by a rail system, or a new airplane?   didn’t russia just today say she is trading still with austria?  what the bri has taught me, & it is certainly its super glue, is very simple…business, do business, get on with making your life & the lives of others better.    i look forward to your take.

he’s an assassin.  he boasted of stealing syria’s oil.    biden, dumpster–criminals both.  one is a  senile mobster waging war to keep his kid outta jail,  the other is the personification of stupid ignorance & a bankrupt thug.

these 2 specimens are what city decided to gift to the world & murica.   city thought nutty in israhell, dumster/biden in murica, truss/bojo/sunak in the uk, turdo in canada, vile der lugen & scholz holding up the EU…not one nary a one with a brain, heart or soul.  mind boggling, impossible to fathom how the wizards of city imagined that cast would possibly be the winning hand?

thank you, ahh, for the cruise through mariupol, it’s lovely to see it in late spring, roses & people relaxing, loving their home, each other, as though the other was but a dream.  the last glimpse i remember was in early spring, still cold & shoddy & it concentrated on the construction & sweeping up, preparing to restore & rebuild.  russians do restoration work with love & artistry.  would russians could’ve restored dresden & its meissen.

a relatively recent rand paper, released midway through the smo, spent considerable paragraphs listing how in victory russia would be made to pay reparations.   victory according to rand was still but a trick or 2 away. defeat was beneath considering.  the authors spent much effort in the effect reparations would have on an already broken russia.  sanctions were admittedly having little effect, but rest assured they would they would in due course.

it never occurs to empire’s grand schemers that empire may be made to pay reparations…defeat is still inconceivable, a probability manifestly impossible, their brains freeze, the hard drive dies.  but it’s amusing to envision hitlery forced to return gaddafi’s turquoise & gold, digging her way through libya, or nuland washing clean streets of maidan, odessa.  empire’s trillions returned to iraq, syria, afghanistan, sudan, yemen, the countries, the people empire destroyed.   i pray crimea’s exquisite artifacts are returned to her.  maria Z is on it! so we know these treasure have a guardian with tremendous power, one to see them safely home.  but until the war is over & the papers signed (we’ve chatted before about priceless artifacts & empire), if the dutch vassal gifts them to ukraine, these astonishing treasures will be diverted enroute to a private study somewhere in city.

ZZZzzzzz

i posted on the chronicle that empire will now attempt to destroy zaporizhzhia.  they’ve foreshadowed this for the duration, & will take chekov’s gun on the table in act 1 must go off in the third.  i suppose that’s as much chekov as empire knows.  stupidity is predictable.

listening to shostakovich, 5+9, it’s late for me, early really, i’ve been up since 1am, so i’ll crash soon, but before i do i hope to respond to your new thread, ahh.  beginning with the image…absolutely seductive & carries the day, i hope the surroundings & wildlife, beautifully.

MKB has undergone such a shift, we all wish we might be visited by such metamorphosis.  he absolutely lifted the carpet, took us to view the underside, to see the knots & many coloured threads, yes, indeed, we are living in magical times.  & the discussions must be so keen, the delicate weaving of when to tighten & when to weave a few more tenderly tied threads.  & yes if you play the market, short, by all means.

amarynth, on george, i’ve been watching & re-watching a video of robbie robertson on the band.  in canada (this wasteland of snow & fires) the band was a big deal, & changed grass roots music so i’ve been trying to piece together how robbie was so completely oblivious to levon’s pain about recognition for contribution.  yes, robbie wrote the songs, levon arranged—but…?

bears…forest fires.  i’m not sure i mentioned i worked on a fire tower @ the base of wood buffalo park when i was in university.  a great summer job.  lots of time to read, & think.  the first time i encountered a bear, nothing like a grizzly or kodiak, a black bear…i was walking alone, just me, my dog & through caribou moss & labrador tea, there it was, standing, much taller than me, i hadn’t noticed but it had been watching me & as i climbed slope it stood, & i was very close, so near, i could see its eye lashes & what struck me wasn’t its size or what it saying with those beautiful eyes but its nose—it was an amazing shade of naples yellow & very like the soft plastic of toys & wanted for all the world to reach out & go REET.  squeeze it.  i didn’t o/c & the bear saw me for what i was, a silly thing of no consequence, certainly not as important as blueberries or annoying no see em black flies.

the bears in the photos all look possessed, as though they are nothing more than fur, rugs, or lions ready for vegas.  i admit as much as i love russian films, & i do, i cringe when they bring out the bears.  but we all live in worlds still coming to terms with what we have done.  certainly, ahh, you are right, canada—turdo & chrystia are empire’s spent condoms disguised & designated as puppets…our ride home.  blessings.

good evening, ahh, we’ve had a day.  whew.  late last night, with the simplicius, & your post…way over my head, flailing deep water, buoyed with water-wing affinity for all unfortunate downstream dwellers, morning, afternoon sped by thrashing through comments; mines lost in muck, buried but deadly yet where so ever they are…& finally returned here to your sane wise shore.

Ol Mac, never could abide the crony, yes, crooke is hitting his true high note, especially his posts on the desolate state of israel lift with a beethoven last quartets resonance.   macblow (canadian smirk) has never been worth a dime (in today’s $).  thank you for posting some days past: chris black…we have few here in the cavity of empire worth much, but for a few: chris black, eva bartlett, patrick armstrong.  national treasures.

kubrick’s lighting marvels captivated us, everyone, especially filmmaker friends inhaled the how, the why, i remember the warmth of the candlelight warmly.  but i have never been a fan of his choosing types, i found it off putting (similar to macblow).  my beloved step daughter shared the same beach as ryan O, walking dogs along the beach we’d meet, his wife had died, if he’d been cast then, after tumbled alongside life a bit then he might’ve been able to begin to take on the role…kubrick, like lots of western geniuses went for type rather than to begin to search the depths.  we lost in empire have rock n roll, blues, jazz.  art, all gone lost, post modern…go visit pompeii look down waaaay down @ the tiles you’re standing on.  all you need to know/understand about edge, hard or otherwise right there beneath your flat foot.  blessings.

i’ve heard the sting is brutal,  so thank you, amarynth.  i came away unscathed.  after a cold, mean spring, the bumbler warriors were motivated. & evoked an immediate empathy, even the dufus collecting them with a hand vacuum tried to manage it with some tender care.  i had a delivery of standard roses & a magnolia…else i wouldn’t’ve been foolishly dithering about.

i’m off now.  a bit of an emergency.   a nest of bumble bees, delightful pollinators, which has been ravaged by racoons in the night, are swarming my front entrance.  local beekeepers have a swarm help line.  i fear the one first sent was a dufus, he’s taken what bits of the hive he could reach away with him to relocate…leaving the queen & her very angry foot soldiers in a frenzy.  another beekeeper is to arrive soon to attempt a resolution.