До Свиданя, Борис Николаевич

Perhaps post-Soviet Russia is not where it wanted to be today, but it’s hard to imagine that it would be at all without the stunning sights of the late Boris Nikolaevich Yeltsin, winning election to the Duma despite opposition from the then-nigh-omnipotent Communist Party, creating an official dissident faction with Andrei Sakharov, and dramatically resigning the party (and inspiring hundreds of thousands of other Party members to do the same—unthinkable!) in the summer of 1990… then winning the presidency of Russia, and standing on top of a tank in front of the Duma during the 1991 coup attempt, openly exhorting the Red Army troops to mutiny.

Considering the financial lawlessness that presided over the conversion from a state to a private economy on his watch, and the Chechen war, Yeltsin’s ultimate legacy is difficult to predict. But there’s no doubt that he made Russia what it is today, for better or for worse.

Shortly after the failed coup, several of us attended Worldcon–ChiCon V. There was a group there from the Moscow State University science fiction club.

Have you ever spoken with someone whose country, at the time you’re talking to them, is being turned upside down? I remember deliberately being very careful in what I said. I had no idea if I was talking to Party loyalists, Gorbachev supporters, Yeltsin supporters… but they were fellow fen, that’s all that really mattered there, and more than anything else, I did not want to sound like a gloating American already arranging the funeral service for the moribund Soviet Union–since I spoke a smattering of Russian, and had taken my degree in political science, that much wasn’t a problem. I was already up-to-date on what was going on over there, but I certainly didn’t feel it on a gut level like they must have.

They didn’t know if they were going to go home or not. I found that interesting, because it really hadn’t been that many years before then that they wouldn’t have dared say anything like that aloud while visiting a Western country–for that matter, they doubtless wouldn’t have been there without a KGB handler anyway. And one of them was, I recall, more concerned for the Mir crew that was on orbit at the time–partly for how they were going to get back, and partly for the changed state of affairs during their mission. Can you imagine launching as a Soviet cosmonaut, and returning as a Russian (or CIS) cosmonaut?

They were frightened for their country, but they were cautiously optimistic.

You knew, at the time, that part of the reason they had any optimism at all was Boris Yeltsin. Whatver happened after that, in 1991 he gave the Russian people something they hadn’t had in a long time: optimism and hope.

Meanwhile, on the plus side of the ledger

Some of you may recall last year in this post where I talked about my dad’s diagnosis of chronic lymphocytic leukemia. Obviously, even though it’s way down there on the scariness scale as far as cancers go, they want to keep an eye on it.

Dad went and blew the doctor’s mind. His white cell count went down as if his leukemia were improving, which the doctor says it never does. Dad told him about some Asian berry he’s been getting from the health food store, and the doctor told him to keep taking it and wants to use him as a test trial, in case he’s on to something.

Either that, or my family’s weird all the way down to the cellular level. XD

EDIT: A couple people have asked what it is Dad’s taking–I was wrong, it’s not Asian, it’s Brazilian. He’s taking a suppliment called Ola Acai, which is made from the berry of the açaí palm.

That’s a cold slap in the face.

As is my custom in the wake of a mass shooting, I try to avoid coverage of it. Mainly, it’s the talking heads that annoy me, yammering about what made the killer snap and who to blame for not catching them before they started firing. Personally, my answer to that is typically “He fell off his meds, or never got put on them in the first place, and try blaming him and not his mourning relatives.” ‘Cause you know what? I don’t care how pissed off you are about a certain person, or a certain clique, or a certain race, or a certain social class, or gender or orientation or what, if you reach the point that automatic weaponry seems a rational response, you have undeniably slipped a gear.

So, I avoided it. I knew in outline what was going on and didn’t care to know more.

I was at a coffee shop with my roommate yesterday and happened to glance at an open newspaper, and saw a name I recognized–guy I’d graduated from high school with. Decent sort of guy, but I really didn’t know him well. Out paths just generally didn’t tend to cross.

He was one of the teachers killed.

Did you ever really, literally, feel the blood drain from your face?

Damn.

Fare thee well, belatedly.

I’m only just learning today that Kurt Vonnegut passed away this past Wednesday. Remember him with Jon Stewart.

Even *I* think that’s brain-scalding!

The Rocky Jar-Jar Picture Show.

What The Masters and Paul McCartney have in common

That would be liking something from Iowa. In the latter’s case, as he once said at a concert in the state, corn. In the former’s, one Zach Johnson, newly-minted Masters Champion. *high-fives former Iowan *

Hee. That’s one more major champion’s autograph I got before they were a major champion. Wonder how much his’ll change?

Definitely good for a giggle…

This is so definitely not work-safe. Messed-up Chipmunks. You will laugh, and/or wince. ;)

Future generations will call it The Massacre at the Masters

Jeeeeeeminy crizmus, what the hell happened? I left for work and Appleby was cruising along, some four, five shots ahead of Tiger, I come home and find out that everyone’s tryin’ to give the tournament to someone else! The good news (especially for ) is that this brings Phil and Zach right back into things–ZJ’s only two off the lead in joint fourth, and Phil’s only two back of that.

Oh yeah. And The Creature shot a seven-over 79 to fall waaaaaaaay back.

So how are my picks doing?

On my pick list for The Masters? Sucks to be you…

Ow. Well, I don’t mind seeing Zach Johnson do well (who I nearly picked for a top ten slot and decided against for reasons that no longer seem clear). I do mind seeing The Creature do well–I’m sorry, you just don’t call your fans “animals”, Vijay. As is my custom, of course, I do not cheer his mis-steps… but neither do I cheer his good shots.

So, how are my picks doing?

Oh, and one more thing.

I should NOT have to scrape ice off my friggin’ car in friggin’ APRIL. This is above and beyond the call of duty, even by notoriously wonky Buckeye standards.