It would be nice to think that. (I was thinking it, myself.) But I suspect this guy won’t be going near any action, or risk; he’ll be supervising long-range shelling from a healthy distance.
The Ukrainians need to locate him and shell him, similarly. Or get a ‘behind the lines’ operation going.
It would make a lot more sense for the US to just accept the refugees directly.
Like we just did with the Afghan refugees.
The ‘Leopards ate my face’ experience of the week…
improve sounds like such a positive word 
What? Weird. Just say you don’t know, and that ends the conversation, instead of being weird about it.
Eh? Why not? I don’t get it at all. From why someone wouldn’t want to discuss it, to the (per your translation) the formality of the tone. What gives?
I think perhaps it’s due to the number of people coming this way. Airline tickets are cheaper through Tijuana rather than San Diego.
I’ve been stewing over this for the past few hours, and I don’t know. They were “white”, and dressed like typical tourists, so all I can assume is over-privileged white folks who don’t like stuff like this intruding into their lives? 
Is this campaign in parallel to the one he/they would presumably conduct, anyway? Was there some possibility that they wouldn’t interfere? I’m under the assumption that they’ve never let up since 2016 (or whenever)
I was guessing (without proof) “regular consumers of news sympathetic to Putin”. I’d expect anything from cognitive dissonance (never a pretty sight) to outright ideological clash from such folks.
Honestly, there are some gated communities (aka white folks’ interment camps) in Rosarito. It still amazes me that they feel justified taking advantage of the economic benefits of living here, yet are terrified by the thought of mingling with Mexican folks.
My parents lived in Mexico for 10 years. They loved the country and the people they met, and had precisely zero minutes for people like those you describe above.
ETA: After one visit to them, I hitch-hiked up the Baja back to the border. In the process, I managed to drop my wallet in one kind soul’s car. While chatting with the driver, I’d mentioned the town my parents were in; a few weeks later he was driving through that town he looked them up and dropped my wallet off intact. I was surprised, but my parents weren’t. “He’s a rural Mexican and it’s not his. Honesty matters out here. We’d have been surprised if he kept it.”
A useful how-to video.
The communal table reminds me of my stay near Odesa back in 2007, except we weren’t urged to pray before meals.
…and keeping with recent tradition, that horse now owns the car.
