Conrad has decided that he likes Romanian. It's a language from Eastern Europe but has no connection with the other Cyrillic or Slavic languages, and indeed has more in common with Italian than, say, Polish or Serbian. The only problem in writing it out in this blog is all the diacritical marks it uses.
None of which has anything to do with the Intro, I just thought I'd pontificate a bit to up the word count/entertain you/elucidate <delete where applicable>.
Okay! Let us move on, and if Art can provide us with a suitable illustration - NO MARA CORDAY OR EMMA PEEL! -
Apologies to "Little Shop Of Horrors". Yes, this is the Pit Of Hell in Turkmenistan, which seemed appropriate, because this Intro is about the endless streams of money Putinpot is pouring into his war in Ukraine. Data from Joe Blogs from his vlog "Joe Blogs", which in turn came from "Forbes" magazine. If there are any errors then that would be down to me doing a crossword or two at the same time as taking notes. Art!
Noooo! That's another music from a different kitchen. Later, pilgrims.
PER DIEM: Which is Latin for "Daily". "Forbes" has calculated that Putin is burning through $300 million per day, which rounds up to $110 billion per annum, which is Latin for "the whole Dog Buns year!"
MILITARY EQUIPMENT LOST: Joe gave an itemised breakdown in terms of cost per category, which Conrad cannot be bothered to replicate. This title covers tanks, planes, anti-aircraft systems, armoured fighting vehicles, artillery, cars, helicopters, cruise missiles, Multiple-Launcher Rocket Systems, ships and Unmanned Aerial Vehicles. Total is $50 billion dollars. Art!
As Joe presciently explained, this loss is not recoverable and means the money has gone forever.
PERSONNEL: There are three parts to this total from Forby.
First is SALARY, which comes to $40 billion for all the orcs.
Next comes COMPENSATION, reckoned at another $40 billion for the dead and $30 billion for the halt and maimed.
Lastly there is LOST MANPOWER, where the calculation is based on the missing 350,000 men working for another 35 years on an average salary of $10,000 per annum, which is Latin for "This is a pittance". Total for this item dwarfs the prior two, at $120 billion.
Here an aside. Conrad counsels caution about COMPENSATION, because in the early days of the Special Idiotic Operation families got enough 'coffin money' to buy a new Lada. Art!
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| "It won't get drunk, beat the wife or get fired. A definite improvement." |
Once the SIO dragged on for month after unrelenting month, the 'compensation' decreased, to the point where it might be a sack of onions or potatoes. The Ruffian authorities used every trick in the book to declare that Yuri was only 'missing', not 'dead', even if he'd been radio-silent for nineteen months.
SANCTIONS: There have been 13 rounds of sanctions, which Conrad likes to call the death of a thousand cuts. Currently we're up to cut nine hundred and twenty three, so there is a way to go yet. Pre-Special Idiotic Operation Ruffia was making $1.1 billion per diem, which is Latin for "coining it in". Now? $710 million per diem, which is Latin for "blackouts and sewage floods ahoy!". The annual Ruffian deficit is now running at $140 billion in the red.
FLEEING: At least 1.2 million Ruffians have fled Sinister Union 2.0 and they're not coming back. Unfortunately for Gay Boy Putin - that's another five years in the gulag for me! - these are the educated, qualified Ruffians with transferrable skills, who would otherwise be helping to paper over the cracks. Art!
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| That makes it ten years for today's blog alone! |
Despite Putin's puppets in South Canada bleating about how they're sending all the money to Ukraine, they have sent €67 billion, against Europe itself sending €144 billion, and other nations sending €40 billion. €250 billion in total - and the Ruffians get €0. Which they will probably whine about at the UN and say it's so unfair and <Cont. Page 94>
Chifle petru câini! as the Romanians say.
Bring On Another Abandoned Island
This one is rather controversial. Art!
Say hello to Paracel Island, one of an archipelago in the South China Sea, which is currently claimed by The Populous Dictatorship yet which is also claimed by Vietnam and Taiwan. Art!
The reason for three nations wanting possession of this series of marine fly specks is, naturally, financial: oil deposits have been discovered offshore.
The Paracels have a spotty history of being occupied by military garrisons, which have then abandoned them, before another nation's military came along and decided "Nice atoll! We'll take it!"
Expect this one to rumble on for, ooooh, decades yet!
I Am Torn
Excuse me whilst I Tazer Art into a better frame of mind
<loud sizzling>
O stop whining and put Sudocrem on it. No, what I meant is that I've not merely seen an updated blog post on Youtube from Joe Blogs, but I've also seen Perun put up a new vlog of his own, this one - well, let Art illustrate the point. And I'm watching you, Art.
I have mentioned Justin before. What he doesn't know about military aviation is not worth knowing and would probably cover one side of a postage stamp. Despite looking 17, or 18 on a bad day, he's a Professor. Perun, the lovable Antipodean, uses Powerpoint and OSINT (Open Source Intelligence, i.e. stuff in the public domain) to create videos that are exemplars of how a subject should be analysed. He manages to retain a balanced and non-partisan viewpoint and also interjects occasional blunt Aussie humour into the matter under discussion.
The problem is, look at the duration! Last year his vlogs were either 25 minutes or 50, roughly, and now they're creeping well past the hour mark.
As I say, torn.
"City In The Sky"
Actually the current action is set in a small township under a louring sky, all wind and wet weather.
‘Thunder without lightning?’ he
muttered. The air fizzled with energy
and acrid scents as the hidden flying eye scorched another house, with the
inevitable bang and tinkle of glass splinters.
Mike came limping along the backstreet to them, his sunburn now giant
blisters all down the exposed skin of his left side. He lurched up to the pair and dropped next to
the sheltering walls, casting careful glances all round.
‘I can’t find the others! I think
we’re the last!’ he gasped, stinking of wet wool and parboiled pork.
Billy stared at him, seeing thick vapours drifting upwards from the
deputy’s clothes, and inhaling – briefly, before his lungs seized and spasmed –
the horrid scent of boiled human being.
‘When did the lightning last strike?’ asked Doctor Smith. Billy stared at him, wiping the driven rain
out of his eyes at such a bizarre question.
Given their battleground, the deaths that had taken place so far, the
likelihood that they’d be roasted into vapour in seconds – “when did lightning
last strike” rapidly occupied the hinterland of stupid questions. What could –
‘Look at that puddle,’ instructed Doctor Smith, pointing at a dirty,
muddy smear across the roadway. Mike
instead looked at the stranger, clearly wondering what on earth was going on as
thought processes behind that bland exterior.
Billy looked at the Doctor, then at the puddle. He looked at Mike, then looked back at the
puddle, which showed dancing, intersecting rings pulsing back and
forwards.
Completely lifted from a certain popular film, I admit.
Anecdotes, Assemble!
Our lords and masters have decided that, from Monday 26/02/2024, we will have a short remote team meeting first thing in the morning, for 15 minutes. This rather reflects the 'Team Huddle' that used to happen at the Co-Op, which could wend on for thirty minutes or so if the team leaders didn't have a firm grasp on the discussion, or shut down people intent on gossiping rather than answering phones <Conrad whistles nonchalantly>.
So - is Your Humble Scribe expected to come up with a new anecdote each morning? I need to get thinking about this, creativity takes time to conjure. Art!
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| Conrad, thinking dark thoughts. Or - maybe happy ones. Saturnine bugger. |
Finally -
Need to go get that laundry sorted, and bump up the word count to 1,400 if I can.
