PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

My Musings

This text is currently hidden by a css change. Alow's me to go directly to the category description because it is editable in the front end,

The Holy Hand Grenade

Putins-Long-Table__20220311-040356_1

If I had been cryogenically frozen in the mid-1980s and thawed just this past week, not only would I have missed the Spice Girls phenomenon, but I might have been amazed to discover that we humans hadn't yet killed each other off, along with most other life forms, via our stockpiles of intercontinental ballistic missiles and their cargo of nuclear warheads. However, I might have concluded, upon picking up a newspaper (a broadsheet so much thinner and narrower than I recall!), that The Soviet Union is alive and well: they still invent cockamamie reasons for invading a neighbor, such as to conduct a "peacekeeping mission"; facts are impossible to come by since the media are controlled by the state; and no one can leave the country.

Yes, I know, people can leave, but no one will take them in these days, except Belarus, and who wants to go there? That's the price you pay for raining shells onto your closest neighbor and creating the worst refugee crisis in Europe in 80 years. I visited a Berlin museum in the early 1980s and saw the lengths to which East Germans had gone to sneak out. They were installing secret panels in cars to hide human cargo and flying hot air balloons over the Berlin Wall while we Central New Yorkers were able to drive north and answer a few questions to get into Canada. This wasn't so long ago; lots of East Europeans alive today recall how much fun it was to live under Soviet rule, with the Kremlin calling the shots. Which is to say, no fun at all.

So, is it any wonder that Ukranian moms are taking up arms against invading Russian soldiers? The choices are either awful or much worse: fight and go through the hell of war; or submit and have a puppet beholden to Moscow installed as your new master. When war is clearly the better option, you know things are bad.

I fear dark days ahead, but my admiration for Ukraine – a country I knew precious little about until recently – is enormous. The resistance has inspired the western world to band together against Vlad, inflicting pain on his economy and people, and frankly a lot of other people as well. Putin is calling this "an economic war" against him. Call it whatever you want, but don't expect the civilized world to ignore your brutal treatment of a peaceful country.

I have a fantasy that a rogue Russian Minister will sprinkle some of that soviet-era poison dust into a bowl of Putin's borscht so that he turns green and even German doctors can't save him. But given that he puts 20 feet between himself and his closest allies and probably employs a battery of food tasters, that would be a little difficult to achieve without him noticing. 

Continue reading
  694 Hits

 

 

Daily Haiku

 

Cats oft’ void their guts.

They cough out fur balls. They puke.  

We tread carefully.  

 

College Tuition

We dig ourselves a deep hole

Need a second job.

 

Now that I’m sixty

People think I’m a wise man

Probably, I’m not

 

I’m in my Fifties

But tomorrow I’m Sixty

Will need a sports car

 

My PCP Says

“Keep doin’ what yer doin’”

Prob’ly I should not

 

It’s St. Patrick’s Day

We eat beef that has been corned

Whatever that means

 

Robots and A.I.

I will make use of these soon

To do my taxes

 

Strange Oscar night end

Pacino failed to mention

Best pic nominees

 

Who’s this Katie Britt?

Scary. Wierd. We could have used

A Trigger Warning

 

Subscribe To The Blog

Produce This Audio Play!

Ever wanted to produce a radio play?  Think you have the mettle?  Read on!

Tag Cloud

Hawaii Martinis Canadiana afterlife Cats NFL gathering throngs Existential Crisis tambourrine Fiction weather When I die The Old Days The future The Past Ketchup Barber Shops My sisters Good Reads Masks People I know COVID-19 Sports The Future punk music Emergencies plan mid-winter vacations midwinter vacations Brewing Accounting Knots Skiing My Estate Candy Bands I've Seen Bob Dylan Things I've done Ticketmaster War and Peace technology Plastic Real Estate Belgian Ales Bodysurfing TV China Mustard Weather Mom and Dad Quebect Email Work Beer vacation Motorists Politics As Usual Soul Coughing New England Guns and Ammo Me Peacekeeping Drumming Grass Skiing Putin Hache Verde high winds Butterfingers Roommates I've Had Zoom Short Fiction Hot Air Balloon curling shoes Head injuries Ukraine Food Soccer winter Imaginings Coyotes Spoon the band Music Christmas Mass General Hospital coronavirus Communication Channels baseball Snow Guns Big Shoes College Godfather Ice Dancing Diseases Halloween Bicycles Scotch and Sirloin My grandparents First World Problems Sugarbush Higher Education Elvis Presley Reese's Peanut Butter Cups Eclipse Texting COVID the future Hurricanes Rock Bands Liz Phair Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde Cars 1980s Brain Surgery Royal Stuff Advertising Yeast Theater Bikes Car Dealerships Audubon Bar Dad advice Hand Planes US Senate Earth Bands I haven't seen Teeth Tom Waits Wind Biden Audio Boston cornhole Bill Monroe Art Bands I've seen Trump Religion Marketing Gimmicks Pats Vaccines Bunker Joan Jett Syracuse Golf Allergies NPR town square Rabbit Hole Reveillon Chowder Vaughn seasons acerbic high school principal Canada Them Kids Soviet Union Stairs Climate Change BB King Skating Mike Doughty My Parents nukes Eating and Drinking Europe soapbox rantings Football Spice Girls Cornhole star Stories I should write Folk Music the sea Soup Red Sox