USA out of NATO/No More NATO [2022)

Google.

When did Soviet Union collapse?

December 26, 1991.

Wikipedia.

Vladimir Putin.

Retired as a KGB Lieutenant Colonel on the second day of the 1991 Soviet coup attempt against Gorbachev.

August 20, 1991.

“As soon as the coup began, I immediately decided which side I was on.”

One can assume that Putin was against the pro-communist coup.

As for Gorbachev.

Gorbachev the reformer.

Putin was on the same side as Yeltsin.

Which explains what happened next.

But we need to back up.

May 1990.

Putin starts working for the mayor of Leningrad (Saint Petersburg) as an advisor on international affairs.

So Putin was working for both the KGB and the mayor (Anatoly Sobchak).

Approximately one year later, he became head of the Committee for External Relations for the mayor of Leningrad.

June 28, 1991.

He was still in the KGB.

Putin held this job until 1996.

Remember when Putin retired from the KGB.

August 1991.

Concurrently, Putin was first deputy chairman for the Government of Saint Petersburg.

He assumed this role in March 1994.

About one year later, he organized the Saint Petersburg chapter of Our Home – Russia: a pro-government political party.

May 1995.

It was a liberal party.

It was founded by Viktor Chernomyrdin.

Pro-government. And liberal.

Remember, Russia had just gotten finished with being a communist country.

So the previous form of government was radically (totalitarian) liberal.

Putin was a legislative election campaign manager that same year.

For the next two years, he was leader of the Saint Petersburg chapter of Our Home – Russia.

1995-1997.

Sobchak, the Saint Petersburg mayor for whom Putin had begun working in 1990, lost his reelection bid.

Putin had been in charge of the reelection campaign.

At this point, Putin resigned his positions within the Saint Petersburg government.

He moved to Moscow.

He began working for Pavel Borodin as deputy chief of the Presidential Property Management Department.

June 1996.

Putin remained in this position for approximately a year.

March 1997.

Yeltsin, with whom Putin had sided in the failed August coup of 1991, hired Putin to become his deputy chief of staff.

March 26, 1997.

Putin held this position for about a year.

May 1998.

He also was the chief of the Main Control Directorate of the Presidential Property Management Department.

His tenure there lasted slightly longer.

June 1998.

This position was an important one.

Both his predecessor (Alexei Kudrin), and his successor (Nikolai Patrushev), wound up in positions of prominence and also worked with Putin later in their careers.

Putin successfully defended his doctoral dissertation in economics at the Saint Petersburg Mining Institute.

June 27, 1997.

His thesis advisor was Vladimir Litvinenko.

Putin then succeeded Viktoriya Mitina as First Deputy Chief of the Presidential Staff “for regions”.

May 25, 1998.

Two months later, he succeeded Sergey Shakhray as head of the commission for “delimitation of power” agreements “of the regions” and head of the President’s federal center.

July 15, 1998.

Putin soon-afterwards, by appointment of Yeltsin, became head of the FSB: the successor to the KGB.

July 25, 1998.

Here’s where our story gets interesting.

And here’s where the current Ukraine war started.

The Czech Republic (AKA Czechia) [a former signatory of the Warsaw Pact] joined NATO.

Hungary [a former signatory of the Warsaw Pact countries] joined NATO.

Poland [a former signatory of the Warsaw Pact countries] joined NATO.

March 12, 1999.

Approximately five months later, Putin became acting Prime Minister of Russia.

August 9, 1999.

The Warsaw Pact was a mutual defense organization like NATO.

The Warsaw Pact ceased to exist on July 1, 1991.

When did the Warsaw Pact begin?

May 14, 1955.

When did NATO begin?

April 4, 1949.

The Soviets created the Warsaw Pact (CoMEcon) IN RESPONSE to the actions of NATO and the West.

So surely NATO dissolved after July 1, 1991, when the threat of the Warsaw Pact ceased to exist, right?

Oh, they didn’t.

Well, then surely NATO ceased operations at least when the USSR ceased to exist on December 26, 1991, right?

Oh, they didn’t take that opportunity for peace either, eh?

Are you fucking telling me that NATO, instead of disbanding and toning it down, INCORPORATED COUNTRIES FROM THEIR FORMER ADVERSARY (CoMEcon AKA the “Warsaw Pact” countries) INTO THEIR FUCKING “MUTUAL-DEFENSE ALLIANCE”?!?

Yes.

That’s exactly what NATO did.

Just five months before Putin first rose to the Prime Minister position in Russia.

1999.

22 years ago.

22 years ago NATO first began to BORDER RUSSIA, right?

[because Poland borders Russia]

No, actually.

NATO began to border Russia in 1949 (!) with the joining of founding member Norway.

Russia was patient.

It was only six years later (1955) that Russia (the Soviet Union) decided to make a proportionate riposte and create the Warsaw Pact zone IN RESPONSE to NATO.

So when Poland joined NATO in 1999, it became the second country bordering Russia to do so.

NATO has been on Russia’s doorstep since 1949.

And NATO set up a fucking tent on Russia’s doorstep in 1999.

Fifty years later.

NATO, if they were really about “defense” and peace, would not have taken this provocative action.

Yeltsin wanted Putin to be his successor.

And so Putin ran for President.

Putin had become Russia’s fifth Prime Minister in 18 months.

The State Duma overwhelmingly-approved this: 233 in favor, 84 against, and 17 abstained.

August 16, 1999.

Putin was an unknown outside of Russia.

He had only briefly been the head of the FSB.

Most intelligence analysts expected him to go the way of the four Prime Ministers who came before him (in a mere 18 months).

Yeltsin was sick.

He unexpectedly resigned.

And Putin became Acting President.

December 31, 1999.

Putin won an early Presidential election.

March 26, 2000.

He was inaugurated.

May 7, 2000.

Life came at him fast.

The Kursk submarine sunk.

August 12, 2000.

Another crisis arose two years later with the Moscow theater hostage crisis.

October 23, 2002.

Putin was elected to a second term.

March 14, 2004.

Here’s where “peace-loving” NATO stepped in again.

Bulgaria [a former signatory of the Warsaw Pact countries] joined NATO.

Estonia [a former Soviet Republic bordering Russia] joined NATO.

Latvia [a former Soviet Republic bordering Russia] joined NATO.

Lithuania [a former Soviet Republic bordering Russia] joined NATO.

Romania [a former signatory of the Warsaw Pact countries] joined NATO.

Slovakia [a former signatory of the Warsaw Pact countries] joined NATO.

Slovenia [a former part of communist Yugoslavia] joined NATO.

March 29, 2004.

Wow.

So NATO, instead of being satisfied with expanding NATO by two countries in 1999 (and bordering Russia with two members), decided to expand by a further SEVEN (!) countries (giving them FIVE members that border Russia).

The provocativeness of this cannot be understated.

Russia does not have a mutual defense treaty with Canada.

Because Canada is in NATO.

And Russia does not have a mutual defense treaty with Mexico.

Indeed, Russia no longer has nukes in Cuba.

It is approximately 230 miles from Havana, Cuba to Miami, Florida.

The world almost ended in October 1962 because of this kind of proximity.

230 miles.

And how far is Tallinn, Estonia (a part of NATO since 2004) from Saint Petersburg, Russia?

Approximately 230 miles.

Look it up.

Don’t take my word for it.

Google.

Havana to Miami.

And.

Tallinn to St. Petersburg (in miles).

Are there nukes in Tallinn?

Probably not.

But there are NATO forces in Tallinn.

And in Estonia.

NATO was on Russia’s doorstep for six years (since 1949) before the Warsaw Pact even existed .

NATO pitched a tent on Russia’s doorstep in 1999 with the accession of Poland.

And then NATO effectively started brandishing weapons on Russia’s doorstep with the accession of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania in 2004.

What would you do if someone was on your doorstep?

You ask questions.

You find out their name is Norway and they’re in a gang called NATO.

They say, “if you mess with me, then my gang will declare war on you”.

Pretty unsettling.

But you let them hang out and loiter on your doorstep for fifty years.

After fifty years, they bring a friend named Poland and set up a tent on your doorstep.

They are there, every day and every night, sleeping in their tent and cooking on their camping stove.

They leave their trash everywhere.

They act like they own your doorstep.

You cannot leave your house by your front door.

You have to go out of your garage.

Or through your backyard and out the side gate.

Five years later, Norway and Poland (NATO gang members), bring their gang buddies Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania to live in the tent on your doorstep.

It’s getting crowded in that tent!

But this time there’s something even more unsettling.

These gang members are brandishing automatic weapons.

They have hand guns.

Every time you look out your peephole, you see the five people on your porch.

And they are heavily armed!

That is where Putin was at in 2004 when he began his second Presidential term.

Since then, NATO has added:

-Albania [a former signatory of the Warsaw Pact] in 2009

-Croatia [a former part of communist Yugoslavia] in 2009

-Montenegro [a former part of communist Yugoslavia] in 2017

-North Macedonia [a former part of communist Yugoslavia] in 2020

East, east, east.

Always east.

Ever eastwards!

NATO is the gang on Russia’s porch.

It started with Norway loitering and saying, “mess with me and you mess with my gang”.

For fifty years Russia let punk Norway hang out and brag about their gang.

After fifty years, Norway and their buddy Poland (another NATO gang member), set up a tent on Russia’s porch.

Day and night.

Norway and Poland talking shit about how their gang would fuck Russia up.

Russia used to be in a gang.

Two, actually.

Russia was the kingpin of both of them.

The capo.

NATO are crips.

CoMEcon (Warsaw Pact)/USSR were bloods.

The bloods have ceased to exist.

Their gang has been broken up.

The bloods (Russia) even made their colors red, white, and blue: same as USA and France (two of NATO’s founding members).

The bloods have taken on the ways of the crips.

The bloods are a defeated gang.

But that’s not good enough for the crips.

The crips want to push their face into the pavement and grind it.

In 2014, with five armed gang members living in a tent on their porch, Russia decided to start going in and out of its own front door again.

They invented a curse word.

Russia invented a curse word.

The word is/was, “Crimea!”

At first, the gang members were shocked that the homeowner (Russia) had grown a pair of balls.

And then every day it happened.

Russia would emerge from its front door.

The gang members would brandish their weapons and say, “why don’t you try something?”

The gang members would say, “this is our porch now, motherfucker!”

And Russia would just say, “Crimea river!”

Russia would go out to the mailbox.

Russia would enter and leave through its own front door.

For eight years Russia has been doing this.

Refusing to be prisoners in their own home.

But last year a new little shit named Ukraine started hanging out in the tent on the porch.

And Ukraine said, “We’re gonna prevent you from saying, ‘Crimea river!'”

Russia said, “How are you going to do that?”

Ukraine said, “I’m gonna fuck you up if you say, ‘Crimea river!'”

Russia asked, “Are you in this NATO gang?”

Ukraine replied, “Well, not yet. But I want to be. And I’m gonna join as soon as possible.”

This last reply was in the fall of 2021.

There was a new shit on the block: Ukraine.

And Ukraine wanted to be the badass.

Ukraine wanted to make sure that Russia could no longer enter and leave through its own front door.

But Ukraine made a threat.

Ukraine said, “As soon as I get into NATO, I’m gonna fuck you up the first time I hear the words, ‘Crimea river!'”

Russia finally decided to do something.

Russia thought, “Ok, I can’t fight these five gang members living with automatic weapons in a tent on my porch. There’s too many of them. But I cannot go back to being unable to enter and leave through my own front door. So there is only one solution. I must fight the one who is threatening my freedom. I should be able to enter and leave through my own front door. And these gang members let me do that. I can even tell them to go fuck themselves and get away with it. Because I’m polite. I just say, ‘Crimea river!’ But now the time has come. I cannot tolerate little shit Ukraine telling me that he is gonna restrict my movement and my speech ON MY OWN FRONT PORCH! This little comedian shit has made his intentions known: as soon as he joins the NATO gang, he is gonna have them fuck me up in colossal manner anytime I exert my ownership of my own house. As soon as I go out to check the mail and they heckle me. As soon as I respond with a relatively-tame, ‘Crimea river!’, Ukraine is gonna sic the entire fucking gang on my ass. So that is the final straw. I can’t fight the whole bullshit gang of thugs, but I can fight the little shit. And I must fight him before he gets into the gang. Now is the time. Do or die.”

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7uPO4cFjoSPnnQozEoZKfx?si=e8b7838d8f924d2e

-PD

Hard Candy [2005)

Norma Bates.

[sic]

Meets Paul Kersey.

Vigilante.

You know…

It’s not often I watch horror films.

I had a bad experience once with the schlock of the genre.

Sleepwalkers (1992).

I never really forgave Stephen King for that one.

But perhaps the story was just muffed in the inept hands of Mick Garris?

Well, whatever the case may be:  Hard Candy is compelling cinema.

Yes, charge me with the crime of our age.

The worship of youth.

Ephebophilia is hammered into our heads by the nonstop spectacle.

It is chronophilia from 15-19.  Age range.

You’re attracted to young people.

So many nuances.

There’s hebephilia.  11-14.

Perhaps it is this which is most germane to our film.

Ellen Page is a star.

Sure, it’s a bit trendy…after Monster in 2003.

But I’ve seen that one…and Hard Candy is more compelling.

Ellen Page is more compelling.

Page plays a 14-year-old named Hayley.

Such a quintessential name.  Like Caitlyn (and its derivative spellings).

Top hit?  [Sponsored content?]  Hayley Williams of the band Paramore.

Youth.

Hayley Williams.  27.  Looks plenty young.

The worship of youth.

Red hair.  Porcelain skin.  Not a wrinkle in sight.

Hayley [sic].  Peak U.S. popularity in 1990s.

Et voila!  Hayley Williams born 1988.  That’s about right.

How about Haley?  Also peaked in the 1990s.  And about three times more common than the Hayley spelling.

[This is the honors-student logic of Hayley Stark in our film.  Really a genius detail.]

Let’s try Hailey.  Oooh!  Most popular yet!  And peaked in 2005 🙂

There’s also Haylee (trailer-trash rare…peak 2009), Hayleigh (a recent trend peaking in 2011…almost with a Cajun ring to it),  and the ultra-rare Haylie (a dainty spelling which peaked in 2007).

These are the keys to the safe.

Yes, it’s a very bad day for Jeff Kohlver (Patrick Wilson).

Hell of a performance.

To wake up with your balls in your mouth.

Not just a figurative Quantum of Solace reference.

Sure, it’s a bit like Misery with Kathy Bates.

So, see:  the Norma Bates wisecrack wasn’t so off in another way.

Let me clarify.

Hard Candy is not a great film, but it’s pretty damned good.

The direction is good.

Patrick Wilson is good.

The scenario/script is good.

Ellen Page is great.

She’s not perfect.

There’s a few moments when the tension is so ridiculous that she almost breaks character.

Not a relaxing movie.

My first “horror” review.

I love Psycho.  It’s artful.

But chasing Hitchcock down that path can be a very treacherous exercise for auteurs.

David Slade does a fine job.

This film most certainly does not suck.

But again, Hulu:  I just wanted to watch a fucking comedy.

And your dramas still blow.

Ended up in horror.

God damn, you people suck at your jobs.

 

-PD

Au Hasard Balthazar [1966)

If life has no meaning, then do not continue to the next sentence.

Thank you.

For those of you still reading.

You must excuse my reliance on 1/3rd of the trivium (to the detriment of the remainder).

It must be rhetoric which I employ.

Like a donkey.

No.

It doesn’t work that way.

But for those of us in poverty and misery.

How do we express our futile existences?

By affirming their meanings.

Their meaningfulness.

You have not worked your whole life for nothing.

You worked to survive.

But you survived for others.

You loved.  You cared.

You were curious.

Too curious to let the human race go.

And so, slow and easy does it goes [sic]…the autumn of your years.

Perhaps.

Another spring.

Hope.  Eternal.

Robert Bresson slips a note under our door.

A key.

At first viewing it is dull.  Ugly.

Like a donkey.

Yes.

But Bresson knew Beethoven.  Concision of expression.

Economy of means.

It is no wonder that we hear Schubert throughout this film.

And no wonder that Schubert is Philip Glass’ favorite composer.

Those ostinati.  Figured bass.

Even simpler than Alberti.

More like a rail fence transposition.

Or a Caesar shift cipher.

Ostinato.  Obstinate.

Like the donkey.

But I have patiently borne the humiliation.

I am still a youthful beast of burden.

And yet I know my hooves.

I am a genius.

A four-legged mathematician.

Give me three digits…and a single digit.

And I multiply.

I fecundate the field with feathery flowers.

Four digits.

Do I hear five?

With a memory like an elephant.

A stare like a tiger.

And a harangue like a polar bear.

But look how he shivers.

The donkey.

So humble as to not say a word.

Perhaps it was the wisdom of salt.

Salt of the earth.

A wise ass.

Yes, forever in trouble.  With my pride.

Getting kicked in the rump.

But these are really nasty assaults.

The other side of James Dean.

François Lafarge as Gérard is a real asshole.

Not enough love at home.

Feels a need to punch donkeys.

[pause]

Quite literally…the world comes to life through Bresson’s filmmaking.

Prostitutes pop up.

Pimps prance and preen.

But here we have “merely” sexual assault.

A first step in losing the ability to feel anything.

Numb.

And we have rape (through allusion, of course).

Gérard toots his horn.

Literally.

The other side of the James Dean coin.

The underside of Jean-Paul Belmondo.

A disproportionate riposte courtesy of the one filmmaker with the balls to be simple.

So simple.

On first glance it is nothing.

A donkey.

But live a few years.

And then revisit.

It is a novel.

It contains everything.

We can’t catch it because it doesn’t pop out at us in color.

One way would be to say that no one has ever looked more sad on screen than Anne Wiazemsky here.

Before Godard.

Perhaps a first conversation.

A nervousness.

It was through Wiazemsky that Bresson told this tale.

To teach the New Wave.

They hadn’t learned all the lessons yet.

He wasn’t done speaking.

The quiet tone of an old man…

I want to tell you more more more.

But this is best secret.

To appreciate the simple things.

Before they are gone.

The patient animals.

So gentle in their existence.

Not presuming.

Not running.  Not hustling.

The pack-animals.

We know this look.

In cats.  In dogs.

This wisdom.

We laugh at their carefree insolence.

But they have shown the way.

Such resilience!

Such love…

And we are taken in.

Our hearts are melted.

Yes.

Few moments in cinema feel more lonely than the end of Au Hasard Balthazar.

It is almost unbearable.

The quiet dignity of humanity being shamed.

How could we ever forget our love.

For even a second.

When we rub two sticks together at such an eyelevel perspective, the meaning of life is very clear.

But unutterable.

 

-PD

Pickpocket [1959)

Writing about film makes you appreciate the film.

You think.

What will I say about this picture?

This succession of pictures.

Sounds.

And so silently you ponder the ways to express true genius.

And how lucky we are to witness true genius.

It’s true.

The Criterion Collection has brought us many films which otherwise might have been forgotten.

Film didn’t begin with The Godfather.

It doesn’t end with Citizen Kane.

And so we need to see the other stuff.

We need to hear voices from outside of America.

Hollywood is international, to be sure, yet everything which enters there leaves marked.

It is a sentiment which Godard expressed in his magnum opus Histoire(s) du cinema.

And this is the other stuff.

Robert Bresson.

You might only know Henri-Cartier Bresson.  Don’t stop there.

Robert Bresson was the master of taking non-actors and capturing their vitality on film.

Pickpocket does justice to Uruguay as much as did Isidore Ducasse (which is to say, completely).

Martin LaSalle, a young Urugayan-French actor in his film debut, plays the lead role here of the pickpocket Michel.

LaSalle’s eggshell acting is essential to this masterpiece.

Yet, it is director Bresson who brings the ballet of crime to life.

Yes, it is like Orson Wells doing his magic tricks in F for Fake (his magnum opus).

Indeed, everything has an art.  Even crime.

And as paper currency disappears from the industrialized world we see the migration of subway thieves to the ether in an attempt to pilfer Apple Pay “money”.

Yes, I’m afraid that soon everything will need quotes around it.

Perhaps I just don’t understand.

But, there is an art to everything.

Take accounting, for instance:  the most boring subject invented by human beings.

And yet, there is an “art” to it…I’m sure…somewhere…deep, deep down inside.

But Pickpocket is of a different era.

Perhaps computer hacking and financial calculator operations require a certain finger dexterity, but nothing like the prestidigitation which Bresson brings to life in this film.

It is a noiseless ballet of lifts, drops, catches, exchanges, etc.  Buttons flicked.  Buckles finessed in one motion.

It reminds me of the one true line in Goldfinger…perhaps the only genuinely cinematic moment in that film (though I love the other 99% pulp)…

Delivered by the title character, as played by Gert Fröbe, it goes a little something like this:

“Man has climbed Mount Everest, gone to the bottom of the ocean. He’s fired rockets at the Moon, split the atom, achieved miracles in every field of human endeavor… except crime!”

Ahhh…the rolled Rrrrs of that final word.  Like H.W.’s brief year at Langley.  Like Kissinger at Iron Mountain.  Ah!  But here we run into a problem.

Hoaxes.  Like Sandy Hook.  Like Hani Hanjour.

And will Donald Trump have the balls to read a book?  Perhaps Webster Griffin Tarpley’s 9/11 Synthetic Terror:  Made in USA?

I doubt it.

Is Trump a provocateur or merely provocative?

Because if he shot his mouth off a little more pointedly he’d have my vote.

And I would stand with my immigrant brothers and sisters every day to see Dick Cheney take the stand.  Under oath.

And Philip Zelikow.  Under oath.

And Donald Rumsfeld.  Under oath.

And Larry Silverstein.  And Rudy Giuliani.  And Richard Myers.

Somebody else did it?  Then you got nothing to worry about.

Unravel unravel unravel.

Because Trump is wrong about immigration.

And Bernie Sanders is right about Snowden.

And I don’t like Trump or Sanders.

But Trump is the only one even tangentially touching on the real issue:  truth.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Off the rails. Film review.

C’est la vie.

Conspiracy.

Don’t mind me.

I will just go back to watching films.

Go back to sleep.

Nothing to see here.

-PD