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Gosh, summer has arrived. It’s nice right now: the cat and I are swimming backstroke in a big big pool of quiet. Herself is at a seminar about the color yellow in culture, and it looks like cupcake is out dancing. The roads are slow with sedans pulling caravans full of blond children to plant potatoes. The city is overrun now and again, this weekend by hundreds of doe-eyed, dreadlocked wastrels here to get baked and jump around to music. The vines are beginning to ripen, because the sun is finally out. The dogs, they pant.
Team USA’s has performed an about-face on F16s for Ukraine. The decision came after allies (Denmark, Holland, Portugal, UK and maybe Norway) agreed to create a fighter-jet coalition. White House trepidations were fueled by the fear Russia would start dropping nuclear bombs, possibly leading to the destruction of the planet.
The cost of providing Ukraine 40+ planes (four 10-plane squadrons) is measly, about $30 billion for the first year. The investment will be paid for from sales of confiscated Russian assets.
What will happen can’t be avoided1. Too bad it took 438 days for the deal to come together.
No one expects Ukrainian troops will be able to de-occupy areas of the country under Russia’s control before October, when the fighter jets might start arriving, so it is likely we will stuck in Phase 3 of the bloody mess for the next six months2.
Google’s GPS is apparently working again.