Donald Trump and Putin Russian Ballet.
(Image by YouTube, Channel: STEPHANIE Tuatwaphlle) Details DMCA
By Bob Gaydos
An arabesque is an arabesque wherever you may be. A grand jete' is a grand jete' in Tokyo or "Paree".
Came across a YouTube channel the other day in which a Russian ballerina and a Japanese ballerina were discussing their chosen craft. They knew enough of each other's language to be understood, but what really made the conversation possible and meaningful to both is that when either of them said, for example, "sur la pointe" or "battu," the other knew exactly what she meant.
Ballet terms are in French everywhere. Period. C'est entendu.
Thus has it been since King Louis XIV adopted the dance style that originated in 15th Century Italy for his own court.
The king, an avid dancer, created many of the terms and steps that exist to this day. He took the ballet out of the court and introduced it to the public, plie' by plie', creating a professional dance company. And, while styles may differ somewhat, the language of the ballet persists, from Moscow to London to New York to Rome to Tokyo to Paris and to every pirouette in every ballet class in the world. Everyone understands it.
Brilliant. Simple. No confusion.
If only the same could be said for some other forms of communication. Compare the universal language of ballet to, say, the confusing verbiage surrounding a sizable stash of apparently sensitive, even classified and top secret government documents that Donald Trump apparently took home with him, along with newspaper clippings, notes, magazines and other stuff when he moved from the White House to a golf resort in Florida. Threw it all in cardboard boxes for, well, he never said what for.
Trump apparently regarded the documents as "mine."
The people at the National Archives, which stores and protects government documents for the American people, consider them "ours."
When Trump finally agreed, after many months, to return documents, his lawyer apparently said there were "none" left in Florida. The National Archives folks and the FBI disagreed. They said there were "some" documents left. In fact, "a lot." They wanted them "all."
Another lawyer suggested that Trump had "declassified" the documents, as presidents can do. The National Archives replied that saying so doesn't make it so.
Trump said the FBI conducted an "unwarranted" raid on his Mar a Lago home, treating him like some common thief, rather than a twice-impeached former president. A judge said the raid was, in fact, warranted. In fact, he signed the warrant, saying there was "probable cause" to believe that classified or other sensitive documents were still stored at Mar a Lago and, furthermore, that there was "probable cause" to believe that evidence of "obstruction" would be found there.
At some point, Trump suggested the FBI planted documents, yet insisted he wanted them back. He even said the FBI should release the affidavit for the search, suggesting, one presumes, it would show no justification. What the FBI released said it had reason to believe Trump was keeping "national defense information," a violation of the Espionage Act.
Espionage, by the way, is French for spying, another word that everyone understands.
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