As the news of an American spy being arrested in Russia with an entire Maxwell Smart spy kit in his possession filled the Russian and American airwaves, I realized that sadly the CIA doesn’t read this blog. Just a few weeks ago I provided a set of instructions for the spy to survive in Russia undetected. Things like putting your feet up, sipping and enjoying cocktails, being too smart and hard-working, wigs, money and compasses will definitely get you found out. Or even a lost button from your pant pocket. Here is a song based on a true story, written in 1939 and performed by some kids.

httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bb_i_48TgpU

*very free translation mine.

A little brown button was lying on the road,
And no one had noticed it in tons of brown dust.
A bunch of bare feet was stomping on that road,
A bunch of tanned and bare feet by little button passed.

The boys walked in a crowd all from a distant village,
Alyosha walked behind all and raised the most dust.
On purpose or by accident, he couldn’t tell for sure,
He stepped on little button, and stopped in place aghast.

“This button don’t look ours!” – cried out all the children.
“And weird foreign letters are written very large!”
To border patrol station they raced like wild horses
To show little button to someone who’s in charge.

“Please show me exactly,” – told them commander strictly
And opened map of border he right in front of troop.
He asked the name of village and brown dusty road
Where little boy Alyosha felt button with his foot.

Four days they wasted looking for man on every road,
Four days they looked for him, forgetting any sleep
On fifth day the had found the evil-looking stranger
And gave him very thorough search like very very deep.

They found button missing on enemy’s back pocket!
A button wasn’t present on foreign baggy pants.
And deep inside the pocket – a cartridge from revolver,
A map of Soviet border and other secret plans.

Patrolmen praised the children for bravery and courage
And then the border captain shook all of their hands
They gave the children rifle checkpoint had in storage
And little boy Alyoshka was given drum for bands.

That’s how it’s protected, the Soviet sacred border.
And no evil bastard will ever get inside!
Alyoshka kept the button, because he is a hoarder.
A little brown button with praise and lots of pride!

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With the current events affecting the American car industry these photos showing (in my opinion) the best-looking American cars ever made are even more bittersweet.

And lastly:

Try this in your Smart Car.
Note: I try to use local photos, I am sure there are better ones to be found in other locations.

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Another key to an 83% approval rating? Put all your political opponents in jail.

TheDLC

The comment above was posted on my recent post about Vladimir Putin. Today my blog feed brings an illustration.

Here we see a participant of a legal non-violent picket of the Moscow City Hall being carefully handled by the militia (Russian name for police).

Here we see his partner being picked up as well.

And after a short pampering…

…being loaded in the van.

Single-person pickets do not require permission. According to the article these people were asked to leave and when they refused, were carried out and taken away. To the best of my knowledge protesters are usually let go the same day or the next morning, apparently Russian militia just enjoys the process and resulting news reports.

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Recently I had a chance to attend the Coterie Theatre’s “Science Fiction Triple Feature” with my only celebrity friend and a real theater critic Grace. Sitting in the same room with multiple theater critics I thought that I should try my hand in their craft. My review follows:

Her voice pierced the darkness- horrified, pained, disturbed. She rushed to the stage wearing something that was thought of as futuristic fifty years ago. Is that how they imagined us then? (I need to update my wardrobe). I couldn’t look away from the stage while She was there. I felt what She felt – the horror, pure animalistic horror of facing a bloody death in your own house. I saw the threat through Her eyes, I heard it in Her voice, I followed Her every move. Were there other people on the stage? Perhaps… She gripped my attention, all of it. Lights went out with Her final scream.

The stage became a medical office, this time She was a teacher struggling with the moral implications of Her decision. She did something out of compassion and now was facing the unintended consequences. I could see Her hurt, tears in Her eyes, Her voice was breaking up. Sometimes She had to turn away from the audience; Her shoulders slumped under the weight of Her conscience. I knew Her pain will stay with Her long after the main character drifts back to his child-like state.

She appeared on the stage once more, wearing some post-apocalyptic garb fashioned out of a burlap sack. She danced in the uneven light of the fake fire. I felt She wasn’t sure about the future. It was exciting but terrifying. Her world was only as big as the circle around the fire. The darkness covered what was left of the civilization – ruins, rusted metal, shorted out power lines. I knew she would make it; she had the passion and determination – something the new generation of humans would need to persevere.

I caught a glimpse of her in the hallway; a beautiful young woman happily smiling, all the pain and drama left resting on the stage until the next show. I smiled as well, for I have just seen the Actress.

Free pizza and ice cream were in my future.

I’d like to thank the Coterie for the great evening.

For a real professional review please check out Grace’s article.

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* disclaimer: I have no idea who Bob Shaw is, and I was too lazy to Google him.

As an outdoor advertising collector and billboard connoisseur I especially appreciate the home-made signs frequently seen along the streets and state highways. Judging by the effort and expense needed to produce these signs, someone has a real problem with that Bob Shaw guy. The least I could do was to get out of my car somewhere on the NW Barry Rd. (I think) and take some pictures.

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