Weekly Review — April 15, 2014, 8:00 am

Weekly Review

The infiltration of eastern Ukraine, the pain of Heartbleed, and the wrath of God Gazarov

Early Lessons in Self-government (March 1876)

Early Lessons in Self-government (March 1876)

Pro-Russian demonstrators seized government buildings and blockaded roads in nine eastern Ukrainian towns and cities, declaring a separatist republic in one and stealing arms in another. Ukraine requested that United Nations peacekeepers be sent in to participate in a “large-scale anti-terrorist operation,” and Russia called an emergency session of the U.N. Security Council, at which Russian ambassador Vitaly Churkin called Ukraine’s proposed military campaign a “criminal use of force,” British ambassador Mark Lyall Grant criticized Russia for massing as many as 40,000 troops near Ukraine’s border, and American ambassador Samantha Power argued that the infiltration of Ukrainian towns recalled the process by which Russia recently annexed Crimea. “This ‘instability,’ ” said Power, “was written and choreographed in and by Russia.”[1][2][3][4][5] Russian president Vladimir Putin sent a letter to 18 European leaders threatening a disruption in their countries’ natural-gas supply unless Ukraine settled a $2.2 billion gas debt, a Russian-born man named God Gazarov sued an American credit-rating agency, and Russia reportedly dropped a series of math texts from a list of recommended curricular books because its illustrations featured too many non-Russian characters. “Gnomes, Snow White,” said a Russian education expert, “these are representatives of a foreign-language culture.”[6][7][8] Rwanda marked the twentieth anniversary of its 1994 genocide, in which more than 1 million people died, with speeches and a reenactment that cast U.N. peacekeepers as an extension of European colonialism.[9] The U.N. Security Council voted to send 11,820 peacekeepers to the Central African Republic, where thousands of people have been killed in violence between Muslims and Christians since December 2012.[10][11] Russia announced that it would establish a permanent moon base by 2040. “This process has the beginning, but has no end,” said deputy prime minister Dmitry Rogozin. “We are going to come to the moon forever.”[12] A Colorado astronaut posted the first Instagram selfie from space.[13]

It was revealed that on New Year’s Eve 2011, German programmer Robin Seggelmann accidentally coded into the software library OpenSSL, which encrypts transactions on an estimated half a million websites, an error known as Heartbleed that allows anyone to access protected systems. “[It can] be explained pretty easily,” said Seggelmann. “I missed validating a variable containing a length.” The U.S. National Security Agency denied a report that it had exploited the bug, while the White House said that the agency would have had limited authorization to do so but that its protocol was “biased” toward disclosing vulnerabilities.[14][15][16][17][18] Indian prime-ministerial contender Narendra Modi, who advertises his bachelorhood as a mark of his incorruptibility, confessed to having a wife, and American researchers verified that a papyrus fragment, discovered in 2012, in which Jesus refers to “My wife,” dates to at least the eight century A.D. and so is not a modern forgery. “An undergraduate student with one semester of Coptic can make a reed pen and start drawing lines,” said Brown University Egyptologist Leo Dupuydt, who argued that the fragment is a pastiche of the gnostic Gospel of Thomas but acknowledged not having seen it.[19][20] Pope Francis asked forgiveness for the sexual abuse of children by Roman Catholic priests. “You cannot interfere,” said the pope, “with children.”[21] A Pakistani court withdrew a murder case against a nine-month-old baby.[22] An Ohio man sentenced to display a sign reading I AM A BULLY was bullied by passersby, the city of Irwindale, California, declared sriracha-sauce production a public nuisance, and the Atlanta Braves burned an American flag at their home opener.[23][24][25] Former Ku Klux Klan Grand Dragon Frazier Glenn Cross was arrested for allegedly shooting and killing a Methodist doctor and his grandson outside a Jewish community center in suburban Kansas City, then driving a few blocks and killing a Catholic woman outside a Jewish retirement home. “We’ve had a few members who have become bad apples,” said KKK Imperial Wizard Frank Ancona, “and the whole organization is overall cast in the same light.”[26][27][28]

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The mayor of a Spanish village whose name translates to “Castrillo Kill Jews” proposed changing it to “Castrillo Jews’ Hill.”[29] Welsh archaeologists dated Offa’s Dyke to between one and three centuries before the reign of King Offa. “We know very little about the dyke,” said Clwyd-Powis Archaeological Trust director Paul Belford. “There was never any dating.”[30][31] A Norwegian fisherman recovered an orange vibrator from the belly of a Barents Sea cod, and North Carolina doctors reported the successful transplantation of lab-grown vaginas in four aplastic women.[32][33] In Chongqing, She Ping claimed a world record for nude bee-bearding after attracting more than 460,000 drones to his body, and in Singapore, Bai Ting was charged with biting the arm of a police officer.[34][35] Alberta dentist Michael Zuk, the owner of a molar that belonged to John Lennon, revealed that he hoped to clone a new Lennon and raise him as a son. “Hopefully keep him away from drugs,” said Zuk, “but, you know, guitar lessons wouldn’t hurt.”[36] The Swedish city of Lund introduced vein-scanning as a method of payment, and a Colorado company unveiled the state’s first marijuana vending machine. “I don’t think we’ve dreamed,” said COO Stephen Shearin, “what it can do yet.”[37][38]


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Ashley arrived for her prenatal appointment at Black Hills Obstetrics and Gynecology, in Rapid City, South Dakota, wearing a black zip-up hoodie and Converse sneakers.1 To explain her absence from work that morning — a Tuesday in April 2015 — she had told a co-worker that she was having “female issues.” She was twenty-five years old and eight weeks pregnant. She had been separated from her husband, with whom she had a five-year-old son, for the better part of a year. The guy who’d gotten her pregnant was someone she’d met at the gym, and he’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her. Ashley found herself hoping that the doctor would discover some kind of fetal defect, so that her decision would be easier. She glanced across the waiting room at a television playing a birth-control ad and laughed darkly. “Jesus, Lord, it would be so nice if someone just pushed me down a flight of stairs.”

In the exam room, she perched on the table with her feet crossed at the ankles, her blond hair brushing the back of her pink hospital gown. “I don’t know what’s available for me here,” she told her doctor, Katherine Degen, who sat facing her on a stool. “I figured nothing.”

 Some names and identifying details have been changed. 

“Big, fat zero, unfortunately,” Degen said, making a 0 with her fingers. The last doctor who provided abortions in Rapid City retired in 1986, three years before Ashley was born.

The baby was due in November, when Ashley, who was a nurse, hoped to be enrolled in a graduate program to become a nurse practitioner. Getting pregnant as a teenager had forced her to put that dream on hold, but she had thought that she was finally ready; she had even submitted her application shortly before the March 15 deadline. For the first time in her adult life, Ashley felt as if her plans were coming together. Then she missed her period.

It would be too difficult to attend school as a single mother of two, Ashley knew. She had made an appointment for three weeks from now at the nearest abortion clinic, in Billings, Montana, 318 miles away. But just a week and a half ago, her husband had said he wanted to get back together and offered to raise the child as his own. Was it a sign that she was meant to continue the pregnancy? As a rule, Ashley approached her problems with resolve. She was capable and tough; she liked shooting guns and lifting weights. She kept track of her stats and checked off her goals as she achieved them one by one. Yet the dilemma before her had shaken her confidence. She leaned back and turned to watch the ultrasound screen. The black-and-white image danced. A sharp, fast thumping emerged from the machine. As Degen removed the wand, Ashley wiped the corner of her eye.

Photograph (detail) by Brian Frank
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A Window To The World·

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Ashley arrived for her prenatal appointment at Black Hills Obstetrics and Gynecology, in Rapid City, South Dakota, wearing a black zip-up hoodie and Converse sneakers.1 To explain her absence from work that morning — a Tuesday in April 2015 — she had told a co-worker that she was having “female issues.” She was twenty-five years old and eight weeks pregnant. She had been separated from her husband, with whom she had a five-year-old son, for the better part of a year. The guy who’d gotten her pregnant was someone she’d met at the gym, and he’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her. Ashley found herself hoping that the doctor would discover some kind of fetal defect, so that her decision would be easier. She glanced across the waiting room at a television playing a birth-control ad and laughed darkly. “Jesus, Lord, it would be so nice if someone just pushed me down a flight of stairs.”

In the exam room, she perched on the table with her feet crossed at the ankles, her blond hair brushing the back of her pink hospital gown. “I don’t know what’s available for me here,” she told her doctor, Katherine Degen, who sat facing her on a stool. “I figured nothing.”

 Some names and identifying details have been changed. 

“Big, fat zero, unfortunately,” Degen said, making a 0 with her fingers. The last doctor who provided abortions in Rapid City retired in 1986, three years before Ashley was born.

The baby was due in November, when Ashley, who was a nurse, hoped to be enrolled in a graduate program to become a nurse practitioner. Getting pregnant as a teenager had forced her to put that dream on hold, but she had thought that she was finally ready; she had even submitted her application shortly before the March 15 deadline. For the first time in her adult life, Ashley felt as if her plans were coming together. Then she missed her period.

It would be too difficult to attend school as a single mother of two, Ashley knew. She had made an appointment for three weeks from now at the nearest abortion clinic, in Billings, Montana, 318 miles away. But just a week and a half ago, her husband had said he wanted to get back together and offered to raise the child as his own. Was it a sign that she was meant to continue the pregnancy? As a rule, Ashley approached her problems with resolve. She was capable and tough; she liked shooting guns and lifting weights. She kept track of her stats and checked off her goals as she achieved them one by one. Yet the dilemma before her had shaken her confidence. She leaned back and turned to watch the ultrasound screen. The black-and-white image danced. A sharp, fast thumping emerged from the machine. As Degen removed the wand, Ashley wiped the corner of her eye.

Artwork by Imre Kinszki © Imre Kinszki Estate
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The Lords of Lambeau·

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Ashley arrived for her prenatal appointment at Black Hills Obstetrics and Gynecology, in Rapid City, South Dakota, wearing a black zip-up hoodie and Converse sneakers.1 To explain her absence from work that morning — a Tuesday in April 2015 — she had told a co-worker that she was having “female issues.” She was twenty-five years old and eight weeks pregnant. She had been separated from her husband, with whom she had a five-year-old son, for the better part of a year. The guy who’d gotten her pregnant was someone she’d met at the gym, and he’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her. Ashley found herself hoping that the doctor would discover some kind of fetal defect, so that her decision would be easier. She glanced across the waiting room at a television playing a birth-control ad and laughed darkly. “Jesus, Lord, it would be so nice if someone just pushed me down a flight of stairs.”

In the exam room, she perched on the table with her feet crossed at the ankles, her blond hair brushing the back of her pink hospital gown. “I don’t know what’s available for me here,” she told her doctor, Katherine Degen, who sat facing her on a stool. “I figured nothing.”

 Some names and identifying details have been changed. 

“Big, fat zero, unfortunately,” Degen said, making a 0 with her fingers. The last doctor who provided abortions in Rapid City retired in 1986, three years before Ashley was born.

The baby was due in November, when Ashley, who was a nurse, hoped to be enrolled in a graduate program to become a nurse practitioner. Getting pregnant as a teenager had forced her to put that dream on hold, but she had thought that she was finally ready; she had even submitted her application shortly before the March 15 deadline. For the first time in her adult life, Ashley felt as if her plans were coming together. Then she missed her period.

It would be too difficult to attend school as a single mother of two, Ashley knew. She had made an appointment for three weeks from now at the nearest abortion clinic, in Billings, Montana, 318 miles away. But just a week and a half ago, her husband had said he wanted to get back together and offered to raise the child as his own. Was it a sign that she was meant to continue the pregnancy? As a rule, Ashley approached her problems with resolve. She was capable and tough; she liked shooting guns and lifting weights. She kept track of her stats and checked off her goals as she achieved them one by one. Yet the dilemma before her had shaken her confidence. She leaned back and turned to watch the ultrasound screen. The black-and-white image danced. A sharp, fast thumping emerged from the machine. As Degen removed the wand, Ashley wiped the corner of her eye.

Photograph (detail) by Balazs Gardi
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With Child·

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"She glanced across the waiting room at a television playing a birth-control ad and laughed darkly. 'Jesus, Lord, it would be so nice if someone just pushed me down a flight of stairs.'"
Photograph (detail) by Lara Shipley

Months after Martin Luther King Jr. publicly called the U.S. the “world’s greatest purveyor of violence ‚” that he was killed:

2

Temporary, self-absorbed sadness makes people spend money extravagantly.

In Colombia, U.N. delegates sent to serve as impartial observers of the peace process aimed at ending the half-century-long war between the FARC and the Colombian government were chastised after they were filmed dancing and getting drunk with FARC fighters at a New Year’s Eve party.

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"It is an interesting and somewhat macabre parlor game to play at a large gathering of one’s acquaintances: to speculate who in a showdown would go Nazi. By now, I think I know. I have gone through the experience many times—in Germany, in Austria, and in France. I have come to know the types: the born Nazis, the Nazis whom democracy itself has created, the certain-to-be fellow-travelers. And I also know those who never, under any conceivable circumstances, would become Nazis."

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