Brendan I. Koerner's Blog, page 129

The Black Widow Gets Stung

Big news out of North-East India, where the leader of the infamous Black Widow insurgency is finally in police custody. According to Indian officials, Mihir Barman (whose nom de guerre is Jewel Gorlosa) was picked up in Bangalore while awaiting delivery of a false passport—a document he needed to reach Nepal for romantic reasons:

Gorlosa used up a large fraction of money his field operatives collected on women. He had reportedly killed his Dimasa wife to carry on an affair with a Naga woman befor

Rough Trade in the Delta

Royal Dutch Shell’s decision to settle with the family of executed activist Ken Saro-Wiwa reminded us of this disturbringly prescient piece from a decade ago. It’s an account of all the dirty dealings that surround Nigeria’s oil wealth, and how oil companies and Big Men manage to keep enriching themselves despite frequent grassroots protests (or petty extortion). The thread running through the story is the tale of Leonard Hutto, a Chevron employee whose job was essentially to grease palms in the

The Last Delay

The missus isn’t due back from Vega$ ’til late tonight, which means we’re in extreme-parenting mode for one more day. Genuine posts up soon; in the interim, please enjoy the above vid of Burmese construction workers showing off their Eto’o-like skills. We wonder if any of these blokes are currently living the dream in the nation’s National League Cup.

Old-School Strongman Sheds Mortal Coil

Microkhan is big enough to admit when we were wrong. And so we must eat a bit of humble pie regarding Gabonese president Omar Bongo, who apparently wasn’t faking his illness. Last month, we opined that the timing of Bongo’s medical leave seemed curiously perfect, given that he was under French investigation.

Given Bongo’s horrendously kleptocratic ways, we expect a bevy of acerbic British obits (much like the Economist’s devastating farewell to Prabhakaran). Until that happens, though, let’s she

“He Plunges at Me, Guttering…”

We’ve previously written about Allied mustard-gas experimentation during World War II, involving live human subjects who were occasionally given no protection whatsoever. But it wasn’t until we read about the Bari disaster that we realized hundreds of Allied troops perished from mustard-gas exposure. This wasn’t due to deliberate release, mind you, but rather a horrific side effect of a German bombing raid. An Army history page tells the tale:

During every campaign there was always the threat of

Microkhan World New York Tour

To celebrate the paperback release of Now the Hell Will Start, we’re gonna be hitting the subway system over the coming weeks, doing a trio of readings in our adopted hometown. If any of y’all are in the environs of Gotham, we’d be honored if you’d turn out to support The Cause. Come up and say hello, and maybe stick around for a pint—to our tremendous delight, two of the three events will be held at joints that serve booze. Here are the details, in order of the readings’ skedded days:

*Thursday,

The Molar Index

We always love it when The Economist makes a cutting reference to Americans’ preference for bright shiny teeth. It’s almost as if the magazine takes pride in English teeth, as a sign of lack of vanity, wise allocation of health resources, or what have you.

The mag’s latest crack got Microkhan thinking about the reasons for England’s middling dental health. And that train of thought led us to the World Health Organization, which (bless its black-helicopter heart) actually tracks the concentration

Running Late to the Gig

Gonna be a late start today, due to the impossibility of blogging while simultaneously making sure Microkhan Jr. doesn’t throw toys out our fifth-floor window. Back in the game as soon as he decides to nap; ’til then, please enjoy the above video of Ulaan Baatar’s finest buskers. The YouTube poster’s whole channel is actually worth checking out—aside from Mongolian music, his other great passion appears to be old-school BMX racing. Highly recommended.

(Thanks, Andrew!)

Breaking the Tape

Right around the time this post goes live, we’ll be handing in Act Three of the Now the Hell Will Start screenplay—yes, the project we’ve been using as an excuse to get away with weak blogging for much of the last month. A momentous occasion, and one we would have toasted with copious pints of Guinness in our younger years. But, alas, the time isn’t right for such revelry—Mrs. Microkhan is off in Vega$, selling fine lingerie at Miss Exotic World, so we’re solely responsible for Microkhan Jr.’s c

A Nation Built on Smoke

When we first established Microkhan HQs a few years back, we were immediately struck by the nabe’s vibrant cigarette bootlegging scene. For a while there, we couldn’t walk 10 feet without having someone pull up alongside us and whisper, “Newport, Newports.” (The pace of solicitations has since decreased a bit, in part due to mounting legal pressure.) We were always mystified as to how such semi-covert bootlegging could be a profitable enterprise, given the sellers’ relatively tiny markup. But th