Eggs neither fit for war, nor bad dance

An endearingly sincere analytics from white sahibs in Washington appeared. Note how they sometimes almost echo my poor prognoses from yesteryear or even earlier. A longread, sure, but, I repeat, its captivating sincerity delivers.

Blinken, in a short time free from underground rock sessions, clearly sent to Zelensky and his cronies a message about little quantity of sand left inside the hourglass, hence two enticing opportunities of 1) elections, or 2) curbing the flagrant corruption. Both of the above in matters concerning Zelensky appear as some plot elements of the very soft science fiction summer blockbuster.

Honestly, option of replacing him now leaves to Dems as little chance to sew the veil of proper dress for Ukraine and their own wannabe leader as the second option, of kicking the tin can even more down the road. I don’t envy Biden’s campaign strategists. Even more than I don’t envy the EU bureaucrats. They seem to not have any coherent plan B in case the European, not Pacific or Middle Eastern, front of the proxy WWIII becomes much harder nuisance for them, and this is exactly what happened.

There is a Russian joke playing on a homophony of words eggs and balls (i.e., male testicles) in Russian slang, where both sound яйца. It states:

Плохому танцору яйца мешают = Eggs create an obstacle for the bad dancer.

Often all seems fair in love and war, and another adorable joke objurgates:

Ни в пизду, ни в Красную Армию = Neither fit for pussy, nor the Red Army.

A great mystery I see in how said joke mirrors words written by Alexander Hamilton to James Duane about deficiencies of the Confederation:

But the confederation itself is defective and requires to be altered; it is neither fit for war, nor peace.