Russian-Ukrainian Crime

7/2017

As John Travolta’s character Vinnie Barbarino used to say in the TV sitcom Welcome Back Cotter (1975-79), “I’m so confused.”

First, there is this news story (1) about some Ukrainian-Russians that stole a bee farmer’s bee-hives.

I have to ask, were they Russian or were they Ukrainian?  If you ask them, neither identifies as both.  The Ukrainians say they are Ukrainians, even those that grew up under Russian rule, and that they are not Russian.  The news reports daily that the Russians are invading Ukraine and trying to ethnically cleanse it.  If you ask a Russian if he is anything else, well just stand back because the least you will get is a verbal lambasting and you may have to resort to physical self-defense.

And then there is the issue that Russian bashing is now the rage.  Since Trump took office.  Before Trump, the Russians and socialism were all the rage in liberal-think. They (liberals) have been in bed with the socialist agenda and their “Hero’s Have Always Been Russians”, so to speak, since liberalism was born.  Of course, Putin has made hay with that.  What I mean is that by publicly complimenting Trump, bashing Trump-haters and sending emissaries to meet with Trump, he has effectively fueled the fire for the liberals to drag Trump across the media coals whether he means what he says or not.

And thirdly, we have been told that the Russian Mafia has arrived.  It must be true because there have been countless movies with Russians portrayed as the character(s) everyone loves to hate or be scared of.  They are rumored to be involved in drugs, theft, human trafficking, prostitution… .

Surely, this isn’t a case of a confused Russian thug who was told to go out and get some of America’s sweet honey pot and he came home with 488 Montana bee-hives instead of 488 virgin maidens?

So, which is it? Putin or the Russian Mafia?

“Law enforcement suspects that Ukrainian-Russians are stealing bee-hives to finance organized crime rings.” (1)  The beehives were reported to have been worth $170,000.  We all know from books and movies that a thief can only expect to get about 30% return on stolen goods.  So just how much crime does $51,000 buy in this place called the Russian-Ukraine, or is that Ukrainian-Russia?  I’d estimate that profits from drugs, theft, human trafficking and prostitution in the US accounts for more than the national budget of any 2 other first world countries.  And this bee-hive theft occurred in the US.  Talk about setting your sights low.

Thoughts on disorganized American-Ukrainian-Russian crime from your grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave.

  1.  http://www.foxnews.com/us/2017/05/15/montana-beekeepers-stolen-hives-are-recovered-in-sting-operation.html

Weary

Better Commumication

7/2017

I propose that there here should be 2 common and closely related (yet opposite) neuro encephalopathic disorders that use the term “loquacious/loquaciousness”.  Loquacious means talking too much, or as Shelby used to say “windy”.  They may present in an individual or in a family but there is no genetic relationship, i.e. direct relatives as well as spouses may be equally affected.  While not previously described in the scientific literature, I think they need to be brought into the light of day because it is my opinion that they are prevalent and epidemic in proportion.

If I may elaborate.

Type A is along the theme of “filling the void of silence”. It consists of individuals that feel that no period in time should be without words being spoken, however brief or however long the period of time.  It is not a conscious act because if you ask the individual (or in any other manner let them know what you think) they will deny that they talk too much. It appears to be more common in men but that is an aberration of observation. This is because the stereotypical assumption is that men talk less than women causing the appearance of or noticeability of the men talking more than expected. I propose that this disorder be called Unassociated Situational Loquaciousness Interpositional Syndrome. (1)  This lends itself to a handy acronym USLIS, pronounced useless.

Class II is almost the exact mirror image or the opposite of Type A in that there is an indirect relationship rather than a proportional or direct relationship to silence.  When another person speaks, there is a compulsion to speak at the same time.  It is almost like the on button is connected to a common switch. When the other stops, the affected individual stops, also.  Most adults today have seen this disorder, although they may not recognize that they have.  I am speaking of something that most will recognize in the movie and TV series MASH with the character Radar O’Riely.  I propose that this disorder be called Concomitant Loquacious Multiplex Encephalopathy. (2)

The prevalence is equal. Individuals usually suffer only Type A disorder or Class II disorder, but there are a few that have both.

Neither of these should be confused with a psychological disorder resulting in incoherent speech/writing called Logorrhea.  Incoherent because of the excessive use of big words used in confusing, complex phraseology in an effort to impress or distract others.

Respectfully submitted by your succinct and laconic grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave.

  1.   Talking too much when there is no need or desire on the listener’s part to hear what the individual is saying.
  2.   Talking too much about nothing at the same time someone else is trying to impart useful, important information.

Weary

Destined to Fail

7/2017

I had a great time visiting the grandkids when last in Texas.  On the last day, my granddaughter and I were watching cartoons while I was waiting for my wife to get up.  It was a show called Teenage Fairytale Dropouts.  Something about bullies, I think.  See this white rabbit with a dragon tail found out that he could fight back cause he could breathe fire after eating a carrot.  We were fine with that.

Then at work the other night, I was talking with my scribe (a 20 something).  She said that she and her boyfriend had gone to a drive-in movie (it’s all the rage, you have to try it) and saw the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie.  So, I asked her how she liked it.  She said it was OK, but it was too unrealistic.

How can you wonder why I think there is no hope, your grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave.

Weary

A White Elephant in the Room

7/ 2017

You can go to the site and read about carfentanil. (1)  It is an elephant tranquilizer. And it’s all the rage. The link is to The Washington Post article about the stuff reaching the streets of North America.

Morphine is a very strong pain killer. Regular fentanyl is 100 times stronger than morphine. Carfentanil is 10,000 times stronger than morphine.

And now everybody knows about it (that reads The Washington Post).

Does anybody see the white elephant in the room?

Your grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave, keeping his recreational pharmacology skills honed.

  1.  https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2016/08/12/a-new-front-in-the-opioid-war-elephant-tranquilizer/

Weary

A Weary Marine

7/2017

One of my Nephews graduated from Texas A&M, applied and was accepted to the Marine Corps Officer Candidate School (OCS).

So, I put in for some time off at work.  I originally asked for a week but the jerks at work had a hard time filling shifts so I cut it down to 3 days.  Still plenty of time, just no time for sightseeing.  And then, they didn’t use me! Too late, the trip was already scheduled.

We planned to fly from separate parts of the country to DC, get a few hours of sleep and meet for the graduation ceremony.  The trip out was anything but uneventful for me and separately for his Mom and Brothers.

When I entered the boarding area at the airport, I properly obeyed the stupid sign that said I did not have to remove my belt or my shoes and that stupid zip-loc bag with somebody’s idea of the amount of toothpaste and deodorant that is safe to carry on an airplane.  When it was my turn to walk through the metal detector, of course the alarms went off.  It was one of the older metal detectors and not the newer see-through-your-clothes things.  The TSA agent was reaching for his gun but I quickly informed him that I had more titanium in me than the space shuttle and that I wasn’t trying to smuggle contraband onto the plane.  I was then informed that I did have to strip down my shoes and belt, empty my pockets and come with Bubba here for a wand job.  And, that I was stupid and it was my fault for not knowing that in advance!  Eventually, Obama and the Justice Department decided that I was safe to fly to Atlanta.  So, I had a seat in the boarding area and waited.

And waited.  And almost waited too long.  Nowadays, they board in this prescribed order of those needing help or special something or other first, those in the Gold club second, the President’s club third and then the groups 1-99 in ascending order.  I was sitting there waiting for them to call group 3, my group, when I noticed the gate attendant closing the door to the loading ramp.  Apparently, they had called and loaded group 3 (only 3 groups this flight) and had paged me overhead.  In noisy situations with 2 hearing aids and 2 almost deaf ears, I can barely hear anything and had obviously not heard them.  The plane was full and they had filled my absence with a standby passenger.  He was disappointed when they pulled him off and gave the seat back to me, to say the least.

By the time I arrived in Atlanta, late, I had correctly reset my watch to East Coast time.  The terminal monitor said I had about 5 minutes to get from my arrival gate to my departure gate for DC.  I hadn’t checked my bag, so I ran from point A to Point B.  Well terminal A to terminal B.  In Atlanta, that can be several miles.  To run for me is more like a wheezing shuffle at a speed my granddaughter would find slow and carrying my bag didn’t help.  When I got to the departure terminal, they were boarding.  Learning from my departure experience, I just got in line, thankful that I made my connection.  When I scanned my boarding pass, alarms went off, again.  It seems the flight that was boarding was a flight was to West Palm Beach, FL, not DC.  My connecting flight was delayed and wouldn’t even arrive for another hour.  I love waiting around in airports.

My flight was almost 2 hours late arriving in DC.  The car rental place closes at like 7 pm or something and doesn’t open until 8 am, or so.  So, here I am at the car rental building at midnight in DC.  Where I can’t get my car.  Where there are no taxis (why would a car rental place need taxis, anyway?).  Where the airport shuttle had stopped running.  I needed to get to my hotel which I would then leave in 4 hours to drive, or not, to Quantico to attend my nephew’s shindig.  Luckily, another stranded traveler called a taxi (which he had on speed dial because he was a frequent DC traveler and expected this kind of thing) and I was able to get to the hotel.  At about 2:30 am.  Up at 5:00 am to go to Quantico.

My sister-in-law and 2 of her other sons had their fun, too.  At their airport, the agent could not find their reservations and they had to buy another set of tickets at a king’s ransom.  When they got to the hotel, there were no reservations because Expedia had booked the rooms at the Chrystal City Hilton but the itinerary listed the Chrystal City Marriott!  They finally figured this out but it took a couple of hours.

Improvise, adapt and overcome.

But, from here on everything went well.  The Battalion Commander gave a presentation with some statistics on grades, failures, successes and my nephew did very well.  The Battalion had a formal Pass and Review.  The reviewing officer was the Commandant of the Marine Corps, the top Marine. The Marine Corps was making a film of the event for recruiting commercials in the future.

On day 2, my nephew was officially sworn in as a Second Lieutenant of the United States Marine Corps.  Afterward, his younger brothers each placed the gold-colored bars (called butter bars) on my nephew’s tunic (jacket) epaulets. His Mom placed the bars on his blouse (shirt) collars. Then he had me salute him. His first salute.

His Dad said that he “had planned to salute you.”  No, Officers don’t salute Enlisted.  Enlisted salute Officers, even if they are wet behind the ears, just out of OCS nephews.

Officers are expected to wear a watch, so for graduation, I gave him one.  It is a $15 analog watch with military time, date and second hand.  It comes from China but the movement is made in Japan and I suspect it is a Seiko.  I like the watch because I have had one for 20 years and it just won’t die.  I’ve only put 4 batteries in it, so if you’re somewhere that you can’t get batteries for 5 years, you have other things to worry about more than what time it is.  It is slightly smaller than the average men’s wrist watch and won’t catch on clothes and packs.  Unlike a Rolex Oyster, if you drop it under a tank tread, you won’t cry about it.

We had a nice dinner and we said our goodbyes. My nephew thanked me for coming and I told him that I would have been there even if not invited, he just wouldn’t have seen me.

Semper fi , welcome to the Corps.

A very nice weekend for your grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave,  Sergeant USMC, ret.

If interested, go to http://www.grunt.com/
Sign up for the newsletter which is well worth reading at least once. There is a very extensive online store, lost of history and all manner of things Marine

Weary