Munitions: Anybody Have Any

      Over in besieged Ukraine, Rus missiles and hypersonic rocketry are making life even more miserable in Kyiv, the capitol city.  The Kremlin continues to bomb civilian targets, violating all the laws of war as we know them. Pres. Zelensky continues to ask for support from western European countries, reminding them that as Ukraine goes, so goes Western Europe.

     The Rus peoples, Peoples of the Steppes, are in the vise grip of a madman-Little VOVA, Dictator of the Steppe Peoples, the mad Man without a brain, the Rus person without a care for those unfortunate enough to need a job, any job, even on the front lines in Ukraine where an infantryman' life is measured in minutes once he sets foot on the terrain of fighting.

   Air defenses are under strain: in both countries!!! Yes, the Rus peoples, Peoples of the Steppe, are getting hammered by the Ukrainian counter offensive that has targeted Rus oil and gas production sites hundreds of miles behind the lines. This has put the Rus peoples on notice that they are no longer safe in their cities and towns from the effects of Putin's war against his neighbor down south. Why would the largest country in the world want to spend lives for more territory? Only VOVA can answer that question. What will his daughters think in the years to come when Daddy is dead in some grave yard that will never be known to the outside world because it will be targeted for destruction immediately. Those poor , poor children, knowing their Daddy is hated by most of the civilized world, and their lives will be forever tainted by the connection to a murderer who orders thousands of little innocent children to be stolen from their families to be incarcerated in a foreign land, to be brainwashed by the Rus Steppe Peoples. A sad life, indeed, for those girls.

       Maybe when Ukraine starts manufacturing Patriot missiles at home, VOVA will get the message that it's over, and he must retreat and give up his failed quest for Rus glory.  Go back to being a bureaucratic lackey, like you were in ST. Petersburg. /Moskva.