Horrifying, horrifying, the estimates for the dead during the Napoleonic madness. Experts can only speculate even after detailed analysis: Military and civilian losses from 3.5 to perhaps 6.5 million. Now I have no particular saber to sharpen--happened to recently finish Janis A. Tomlinson's biography of Spanish artist Goya, and the brutal Peninsula War figured prominently. Indeed, my two extended stays in France were delightful.
Perhaps the word brutal is a redundancy.
I could just as easily sail across the channel to ponder, oh, Oliver Cromwell, who championed a campaign against Catholic Ireland that led to the deaths of 200,000 Irish citizens or more.
Easy now, spent a delightful--hmmmm?--week in London as a younger, much younger man.
But I come not to leap up and down on the graves of fallen men.
No, I would rather break bread with Brother Putin who now oversees a military build-up along the border between Russia and Ukraine. You know, Russia, geographically the largest country in the world. A country rich in natural resources and human talent.
In my mind, the scene is simple: Two guys comfortably sitting seaside at Beach Laskovy, bare feet in the sand, sipping cold Ochakovos.
"So, Vlad, may I call you Vlad?" I say. "Slaughter in Ukraine? Maybe a hundred thousand casualties. Oh, Vladdy, Vladdy, Vladdy. Is that the best you've got? All the talent and resources of Mother Russia and Kyiv has your fatigues twisted in a knot? Seriously? So unimaginative, so retro, so uninspiring. Of course, the limitations of your mind, I guess."
At this point I am disappeared to much colder climes.
Or I could slurp Lanzhou lamian with President Xi Jinping, just two guys hanging out on a pleasant afternoon in Sanya.
"So, Xi," I say, "Taipei has your windbreaker in a wad? Invade Taiwan? Because the most populous nation in the world, rich in natural resources and human potential, feels incomplete? Xi-Xi, Xi-Xi, Xi-Xi. Maybe to kill a million people? So reductionist. So unenlightened. So enfeebled."
At this point, I'm slurping noodles in Xinjiang. If I'm lucky. Do I feel lucky? Well, do I?
Ah, Vlad and Xi, the best and brightest of their generation. Perhaps I'm just not a 21st century kind of guy. Maybe 23rd century. Maybe?
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