Russian Roulette

Tags

aggression, Alaska, annexation, Brooklyn, chauvinism, Crimea, ethnic cleansing, ethnic purity, invasion, militarism, Putin, Russia, Ukraine

Putin has annexed Crimea and, by the time anybody reads this, may be finishing his second helping of Chicken Kiev. What at first seemed a snack could become a banquet, with our allies, our interests, maybe even ourselves the main course.

Putin cites two fundamental principles behind his liberation theology:

(1) The right to reincorporate former Russian territory.
(2) The duty to protect ethnic Russians.

With that line of reasoning, what’s to stop him from:

Seizing Alaska: America, you have allowed Russian Orthodox churches in Alaska to deteriorate shamefully. You long ago acknowledged that your so-called purchase was folly. Eskimos may stay — after all, they are long-lost Siberian brothers. All others must leave, especially Sarah Palin.

Annexing Parts of Brooklyn: Russian occupation of Brighton Beach, Bay Ridge, Sheepshead Bay, and Midwood, previously a mere civilian, demographic fact, is now a geo-political reality. We guarantee safe passage to their own ethnic enclaves for Greek-, Italian-, Irish-, Jewish-, African-, and other non-Russian-Americans.

Liberating the Russian Tea Room: This bastardized temple of conspicuous consumption sullies the proud reputation of Russian gastronomy and culture. New Yorkers and visitors, pay attention — if you wish to savor the essence of Russia, you must obtain a visa and pay in rubles.

Bad enough, but consider the possible bandwagon effect:

France Demands Return of Louisiana Purchase:  Prime Minister Hollande cites widespread Cajun poverty and PETA threats to foie gras as justification.

Britain Presses for Cession of Original Thirteen Colonies:  Prime Minister Cameron calls position justified response to American corruption of Her Majesty’s tongue (labor for labour; See ‘ya for Cheerio; suspenders for braces; Thank you for Ta) and failure to pay for spoiled tea.  He assures Putin he will respect Russian sovereignty over Brighton Beach, Bay Ridge, Sheepshead Bay, and Midwood.

Spain Calls on U.S. to Restore Stolen Colonies: Prime Minister Rajoy singles out American treatment of Hispanics as justification. Obama objects, but signals willingness to trade Texas for Puerto Vallarta and two other minor-league resorts to be named later.

Native Americans Trump French, British, and Spanish Demands: Pointing out that they were here first, Native Americans retroactively void sale of Manhattan and file claim in International Court of Justice for rest of America (including all of Brooklyn).

It could spread:

Pakistan Gobbles Up Bangladesh; India Reincorporates Pakistan; Great Britain Reclaims India; Celts Take Over Great Britain; Knicks Beat Celts in Overtime.

Austro-Hungarian Empire Reasserts Claim To Czech Republic, Slovakia, Serbia, Bosnia, Croatia, Slovenia, Romania, Italy and Any Remaining Territory We’ve Inadvertently Left Out.

Holy Roman Empire Seizes Austria-Hungary and, just for the hell of it, Greenland.

All things considered, it might be best to stop matters before this all becomes a dog’s breakfast.

Crimea River

Tags

Borodin, Carnival Cruises, Crimea, EU, invasion, Kiev, militia, norovirus, Odessa, Putin, Russia, Russian troops, Sevastopol, Stalin, Ukraine, Yanukovych

Normally, when an international crisis breaks out, Uncle Sam calls me.  This time, however, with the Ukraine situation just begging for the catchy title I’ve been saving for decades, I called him and lobbied for the job.

I got some hemming, but no hawing, and I knew I was in.  I packed quickly and still had time to scrape a little rust off my Russian at a Met matinee of Prince Igor (boy, did Borodin steal a shitload from Kismet.)

The next morning, I landed in Odessa, hoping to get to Sevastopol.  I managed to wangle a berth on a Carnival Line cruise doing the Black Sea.  My plans seemed scuttled when they announced they were canceling their Sevastopol stop, but, never at a loss and never without my emergency cosmetic kit, I colored myself a sickly bluish-white and, at the height of dinner, collapsed next to the fruit salad.

It worked like a charm and, faster than you could shout NOROVIRUS!! the captain did a u-turn into Sevastopol harbor, slammed on the brakes, and we were besieged by local health officials.

I took advantage of the chaos to slip down the gangplank, disguised as a bedpan, and made it into town.  Here’s a taste of the situation:

Florists are completely sold out.  The regional FTD rep explains that the locals are hedging their bets by putting flowers into every gun-barrel they encounter. Roses are preferred, but even yesterday’s baby’s breath is acceptable.

Tours of the Russian naval base are cancelled.  A handwritten sign reads:  To protect our patriotic sailors against nefarious Western plotting, the base is closed until further notice.  The word Western appears to have been hastily scribbled over the word I-m-p-(letter indistinct)-r-i-(letter indistinct)-l-i-s-t.

Tramping the city streets, I hear clanging noises.  I follow the sound and, in a large square, come upon a group of self-desribed Technical College blacksmithing students, beating plowshares into swords.

In another part of town, armed, helmeted men, who identify themselves as Department of Public Works employees, are meticulously cleaning defaced Yanukovych posters.

The Bolshoi has just arrived in town.  I go to see Swan Lake, which is reasonably well done.  The Black Swan, appropriately, carries a Kalashnnikov, but the White Swan’s army boots just don’t work.

Walking along the shore, I encounter hundreds of swimmers in wet-suits, goggles, snorkels, and fins emerging from the water.  An official explains, Just the local Polar Bear Club, before he hurries me away.

In the market, I buy a Russian nesting doll.  When I open it, inside is a business-suited-Putin; inside him, Yeltsin; inside Yeltsin, Brezhnev; and then, Stalin, who looks stern, but pleased.

Conclusions:

The situation is calm but mildly unsettling.  Russia claims that armed individuals patrolling the streets (including the blacksmiths with swords that still have cow-shit on them) are simply local militia, called out to restore order.  Restore what order?  It’s a bloody love-fest (report has it that there isn’t a virgin left on the peninsula).

And, if the claim is true, why has the Loyal and Independent Republic of Crimea granted them immediate citizenship? Perhaps more fundamental, what is this Loyal and Independent Republic of Crimea and who’s behind it?  And where does Stalin figure in all this?

With so many questions still to pursue, I’ll need more time, and more spending money (flowers are a useful door-opener, but the price has skyrocketed).  Make sure payment is in rubles.