You'd Better Believe I've Got More To Say On This Topic
I took copious notes and exploited the recently-discovered 'Bookmark' function on Twitter, so you are going to get the benefit O Yes Indeedy, like it or not. The trouble is that a mound of statistical data doesn't really compel visitors to traipse into the blog, so we need to start with Art providing a click-baity pic.
Leopard Tank, apparently
That's quite appropriate, because Conrad, too, got information wrong. Rare, but it happens, and we are here to correct things, with the help of "Inside Russia" and "Prune60" and Ruffia's appallingly bad economic situation.
THREE: The National Wealth Fund, alternatively known as the 'Federal Wellness Fund'. This is, as I'm sure you recall, the rainy-day fund that Putinpot had built up over several years prior to the Special Idiotic Operation. It has been used to pay off all the monthly deficits in Ruffia, and originally was being used to prop up the ruble, which was a money pit they abandoned after 6 months. The only things left in this fund are Chinese Yuan and gold, because these are liquid funds - that is, their value can be realised instantly, unlike Treasury Bonds or the like. Art!
A weird scene inside the gold mine
Well now, the NWF has finally hit the total of $50 billion left, which Conrad inaccurately picked up and put forth a good six months ago. To be exactly, ₽4.5 trillion rubles. If the orc's current rate of burning it up persists, at $10 billion per month, there won't be anything left by 2025.
Nor is this merely Conrad suffering the vapours, that Deputy Head of the Ruffian Central Bank, Ol' 'Zobby' Zabotkin, confirmed for the first time OFFICIALY that the NWF will be gone by 2025. I would recommend you stay away from windows and teapots, Zobby, we'd hate to lose you.
Mighty Prune also noted that there are reports that the Ruffian deficit due to military spending alone, will likely hit ₽2.5 trillion by the end of this year, so another $20 billion down the unquenchable money pit of fire. Art!
Money pit is hungry
FOUR: Petrol, which I had to translate from 'gasoline' as that's a South Canadianism we won't tolerate here. Ruffian refineries produced refined petroleum products such as petrol both for export and their internal market. There is already a ban on exporting petrol, which has been in force for most of 2024. Now the Omsk refinery, the biggest in Modern-day Mordor, has suffered a serious fire, affecting the output. This is bad since it supplied 10% of the whole total of Ruffian petrol. At this point it's academic whether this damage was caused by a Ukrainian drone, deliberate sabotage or accident, since the end results are the same. Art!
This is from an 18-second clip of petrol tankers queuing up in Moscow's suburbs. Why are they lined up by the hundred? Because the Ukrainians hit the Moscow refinery with a large kamikaze drone, smack into the Central Distillation Tower THE MOST CRITICALLY CRUCIAL PART OF THE REFINERY. This is not going to get repaired, likely ever, so the orcs have rounded up their wagons to decant petrol and diesel and send it on. This refinery produced petrol and diesel for Moscow the city and region, and was protected by a handful of incompetents with small arms, who couldn't hit a barn if they stood inside it.
To nobody's great surprise, the price of petrol is going up. Who knew! Art?
The moment of both truth and impact
This is another reason why Bunker Grandad is squeaking about a ceasefire, because Ukraine won't stop until every Ruffian refinery is reduced to oily cinders. They are looking to produce 3 million drones in 2025, meaning 96 drones per day attacking every single Ruffian refinery. Ooopsie. With Muscovites paying through their purse at the pump, the SMO is being brought home to them.
I think that's enough schadenfreude for one day. Next!
They're Eating The Cats And Dogs And Geese - And Squirrels!
Jake Broe hilariously described Donold Judas Trump's campaign as 'elder abuse', as the demented blimp caked in makeup and hairspray delivers word salad. Trump himself described it as 'weaving', and his friends who are professors of English declared it to be better than Shakespeare, which is a compound lie as Pumpkinhead has no friends, nor does he know any professors. Art!
He spells 'Shakespeare' as 'Covfefe'
O boy will I miss this chap when he dies from a stroke or ends up in prison, he's an absolute gift for generating content.
Conrad would like to point out that trying to catch an unwilling cat is a major effort that requires a whole team of captors, wearing industrial-grade gloves, and stout sacks made of the very strongest jute.
Try catching a Doberman. Make sure your insurance is paid up and your will is up to date.
Try catching a goose. They can FLY. Who knew!
Why squirrels? Because back in the winter of '23, the Ruffians were pushing the line that starving Brits were reduced to eating squirrels, because energy sanctions had disrupted the cashew harvest in the Sanjak of Novi Pazar. Art!
Conrad is culinarily curious
Of course, as with cats, dogs (and geese), there are practical problems about dining on roast Tufty, which I was reminded of whilst walking into Royton earlier this afternoon. There was a grey squirrel on the other side of the fencing where that family keep goats, and a lithe little beggar it was, too. South Canadians, as pictured above, may be able to dine on roast squirrel, which is because they all tool around with guns. Not so in the UK.
Unless you can order frozen ones? Let me just check out the internet .....
"Roland Garros" Mused Conrad
Again, an example of how useful having a mind like a skip is. This name popped up in the festering septic swamp of Conrad's mind, which is an image you can't unsee, and I wondered if he was real, fictional or simply mis-remembered.
He was definitely real. Art!
There is a stadium in Paris named after him, and yes, he was real, and involved in aviation, which is what I vaguely suspected. Art!
When flying in 1913, an impeccable moustache is de rigeur. We'll come back to this chap, he was interesting.
You What?
On occasions, the word limit of a news headline combines with the mercurial nature of the editor or sub-editor involved, to create a bizarre and memorable meme-worthy picture. Thus here. Art!
Of course it's shy - Polite Australians are the most self-deprecating people on Planet Earth, only slightly ahead of the British Americans.
Our Journey With Mister Wrightson
Bernie, that is. One can imagine that the Wrightson household was a model of domestic harmony, cuddling kittens and merry laughing children, because it's always the quiet ones who wouldn't say boo to a goose (or cat or dog or squirrel) that prove to have the bodies of 67 people buried in their cellar. Art!
Conrad is unsure exactly where the Parole is being Reviewed here. 'Werewolf ripping throats out' seems more likely, don't you think? Was the 'loup garou' the parolee? I think they've blown their chances of an early release. Then again, with that whole wall demolished I believe escape would be quite easy.
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