Happy New Year from Russia!

To have a good start for this promising year, just a short video from holy mother Russia.

What do you think we Russians do having consumed our daily liter of vodka?

Falling asleep? Nope. Our balalaikas and matryoshkas can wait for a while, but our BEARS cannot wait for us to have a good time together.

Just like this Pavel plays with his brown friend Dima (diminutive for Dmitry).

Russian Means...

... generous and fair; sympathetic and strong.

A technician of Russian airforce at Hmeymim airbase in Syria, writes on bombs:

ЗА НАШИХ => for our people
ЗА ПАРИЖ => for Paris

This is the best and only short messages service ISIS deserves.

This is Russian soul.

May I Not Die?

It is not my text; it is my translation of a text I found somewhere in the Russian part of Internet. I decided to translate it, because in my opinion it delivers a message. A message generated by a Russian man born in the USSR, just like me. Sometimes using strong language — just like me...

"Aunt Lena, may I not die?" There's no tiny little single hair on the head of the boy lying on the bed. His skin is greenish. He looks like Fantomas from the old French comedy, though there's nothing to laugh about. No-thing.

An aged, in her sixties, nurse shakes with all her body. It is impossible to get accustomed to such things. A human being is unable to get accustomed to such things. That's why this being is called human.

"What d'ya say, dear! You aren't going to die, sure..." Tears water her eyes.

"Aunt Lena, you know, my Mom's birthday is on Saturday. I've made a gift, here it is... made it myself... but how can I give it to her if I die? May I not die till Saturday? May I?

Oncology. The room for those who have already crossed the thin line between life and death. These children are all already dead, even though they might still look alive and even talking... Just a few days are left to each of them. Perhaps, weeks or sometimes months. The doomed children — if you say you have seen something more terrible, I gonna hit you.

He does not need anything. Nothing can save him. He just wants to live up to his Mom's birthday and give her his lurid gift made from cheap cardboard and coloured paper. The most precious gift of all his — and her — life. Lord, I do not believe in Thou, but please do help this mother to go through it. Do not let her go crazy, please...

And we — we've got iPhones. Which one is there in the row, the fifth or already the sixth one? We've got toilets of gold. We've got an MP3-player built in in the fridge just for fun. Scientists do not fly into space anymore, yet tourists do. All the science waits in a queue to joyfully meet the needs of walking stomachs and bottomless vaginas. Beauty institutes, academies for pads and tampons, labs for wrinkles fighting creams. The fucking 21st century is there, and we have not enough power to win cancer, AIDS, and a whole bunch of other deadly diseases. And it is not that we are unable — we do not want.

An issue of the Science and Life* from 1959... A set of dreams of our ancestors about future. I'll burn it. Because... hey, mankind, just fuck you instead of a time machine, eternal youth, medicines against all diseases and a photon spaceship in the 21st century. Here's an iPhone for you. And a massager for fat asses. And premium condoms. And drugs allowing to eat without gaining weight. Fress and be healthy. Put all these pads in you know where. Drink Activia. Smear your snout with all these creams. And I gonna…

... Well, the boy did it to survive Saturday. He died a week later.

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* The Science and Life — once one of the most popular magazines in the USSR; established in 1890 in Imperial Russia, was published till 1900, then restored in 1934 in the USSR, and is still published.

... For We Are Russians

We are often told the Russian civilization is in fact a part of the European, Western one. That is, we at all not Asians and shouldn’t look at the East.

In this thesis only one part of the statement is correct: we aren’t Asians.

But from the fact we aren’t Asians doesn’t follow at all that we are Europeans — for we are Russians.

I explain it as one-two-three.

A certain sovereign, Ivan the Great, known also under the number IV and name “the Terrible”*, wrote to the Queen of England approximately so: you, the silly woman, put interests of trade above the state interests, and you are a servant of your merchants.

It's My Life

Being born in 1970, for the first 21 years of my life I was a Soviet citizen, that is, a citizen of the USSR. As such, I went through all the stages form an infant to schoolchildren to a conscripted soldier to a University student — the Soviet way. Surely and undoubtedly, this background has much to do with who I am now. And many of my compatriots who have gone through more or less the same way.

My friend Phil Butler insisted I had to share the experiences of my life. I did.

My sincere hope is that it helps our so sadly imperfect world to be a friendlier place.

Because mutual understanding is the first and maybe the most important key to peaceful coexistence. We are all different — but that's normal, just natural. And the world evidently needs more tolerance. Not just that to sexual choices, but a wider one — to ideas, ways of life, traditions and beliefs, so far these do not threaten other people and nations.

I did not include all the details in my text: it is an online article, not a kind of "War And Peace". But in case you have any questions, or you'd like me to throw more light on this or that part of our former life, feel free to ask. You can also get some more information about me in some of my posts here, tagged "me & my background".

I am here (and there, in the "Our Russia") to answer. To build up understanding.

We Are the Immortal Regiment

The Immortal Regiment is the name of a non-official movement that started in Russia a couple of years ago.

The rules of the game are quite simple: you print a big size picture of your realtive who fought against Axis countries during the War, stick it to a board with handle, and walk out with the people like you.

The our part of the WWII, which is called the Great Patriotic War, had an enormous effect on the USSR. Virtually all families had relatives who was somehow touched by the war: either killed on the front or occupied territory, or served in the Red Army, and even more people worked hard in the rear.

In my family, my granddad and all three his brothers served as officers in the Red (later — Soviet) army. All the Samarins men were lucky to survive the war, but the top price was paid by many others. "Saving Private Ryan" is a great film; as for the USSR, it could not afford such an approach. There were mothers that los ALL 7 or 6 or 5 sons (let alone the fewer quantity) at the war.

I have already said, and I will repeat in the future, that was the war for the very existence of our country and people, something the Europe, especially the Western Europe did not experience to a least possible extent. Neither France, nor Belgium, nor the Netherlands, nor other occupied or allied with Hitler Germany lands.

Out of nine sons of Epistinia Stepanova, Alexander (Sr.) was executed by the White Army during the Civil War in Russia, Fyodor was killed by the Japanese during the Battles of Khalkhin Gol, Vasiliy, Ivan, Ilya and Alexander (Jr.) were killed by Germans (the second Alexander was post mortem awarded with the highest Soviet award, the Hero of the Soviet Union), Filipp died as a POW already in 1945, Pavel was missed in action. Only disabled Nikolay made it to home; he died of wounds in 1963, being just 59. The mother survived all of them.

May 9, Victory Day

So it is, we celebrate Victory on May 9: it was 0:43 am of May 9, 1945, when Keitel signed the Final surrender act in Berlin.

The most terrific war in the history of the world was over. In Europe, it was the matter of existence only for Jews.

For us, it was the total war for the very existence of our country, that carried then the proud name — the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

A Crimean Sings

... the National Anthem of the Russian Federation.

Simferopol-born Anzhelika Yutt performs our national anthem.

So far, it is the best soul performance of it I have ever listened to.

Blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear — God, she's that inspired and happy to sing it.

For the Crimea has been Russian in soul, and is now in fact, and it has now future. You are, everybody is welcome to share this Crimean happiness.

Alexander Pushkin on Line

For us Russians Alexander Pushkin is one of the greatest authors who made Russian literature (and poetry in particular) the greatest.

I am not sure that's correct, but to the best of my knowledge, he's like Shakespeare for English. And maybe, well, definitely more.

Here is one of his poems, written way back in 1831. Close to two centuries ago.

TO THE SLANDERERS OF RUSSIA

Why rave ye, babblers, so — ye lords of popular wonder?
Why such anathemas 'gainst Russia do you thunder?
What moves your idle rage? Is't Poland's fallen pride?
'T is but Slavonic kin among themselves contending,
An ancient household strife, oft judged but still unending,
A question which, be sure, you never can decide.

Peculiarities of Russian National Character

Quite lengthy, yet cognitive article by Dmitry Orlov, born in Leningrad (now St. Petersburg) in 1962 and since 1974 residing in the USA. There are some cliches and simplifications, but it really worth reading to better understand us Russians as a people and nation.

Some people have been drawing comparisons between the period we are in now and the last time oil prices dropped—all the way to $10/barrel—in some measure precipitating the Soviet collapse. But this analogy is false. At the time, the Soviet Union was economically stagnant and dependent on western credit to secure grain imports, without which it wouldn't have been able to raise enough livestock to feed its population. It was led by the feckless and malleable Gorbachev—an appeaser, a capitulator, and a world-class windbag whose wife loved to go shopping in London. The Russian people despised him and referred to him as “Mishka the Marked,” thanks to his birthmark. And now Russia is resurgent, is one of the world's largest grain exporters, and is being led by the defiant and implacable President Putin who enjoys an approval rating of over 80%. In comparing pre-collapse USSR to Russia today, commentators and analysts showcase their ignorance.

Here it is, in his blogspot blog.

An Aristocrat of Spirit

Story of a Militiaman
Who Came Back from Captivity


It’s happened so that some of my acquaintances now are at war in Malorossiya. Unfortunately, for many of them it was kind of a rescue from those “lead nastinesses of the Russian life”* — acqusitiveness and consumerism which passed into the space of high technologies long ago. And which, ideally, a normal Russian person should not touch. As a temptation of devil... In this regard, I was lucky enough with my job: continuous business trips, expeditions and, the main thing, impressions from them don’t allow me to become a bourgeois homebody. But every time I meet people “from there” I understand that my life is missing something... I have already written about some of them in Zavtra web site. Now I’m going to tell about my fellow countryman Ustin. Most likely, some of those “web-based patriots” will find in him a subject for their ideological writings. However, one question is reigning in my head: what does set such people in motion?

Not of this world

“Ustin” is a call sign. In the common world he is Alexey Stenin from Nizhny Novgorod, and he is not ashamed of either his name or biography. At my question if I might publish his real name he responded in a soldierlike short manner: “I don’t give a damn.”

Sometimes it seemed to me he is an other-wordly man indeed, one of those who always made spiritual elite of Russia: men of fervent prayer, zealots, warriors and wanderers. People from that world where such concepts as ‘duty’, ‘honour’, ‘conscience’ and ‘friendship’ are still valid and in full power. People from the highest spheres that do not really care of our primitive worldly affairs, be it mortgage or a new carpet purchase. People who are aristocrats of Spirit.

Ustin has two Chechnya campaigns in his record. He was a sniper and took part in many operations. For example, in Bamut. Since then he’s keeping his call sign. His military specialty became useful in Prizrak (Ghost) group of Alexey Mozgovoy. At my already standard question “What’s brought you there?” Ustin answered simply: “I couldn’t be indifferent.” Same answers I heard from other volunteers as well. Thus, until now I’ve failed to reveal a secret of a surprising phenomenon of Russian volunteering: what does move people to leave their families, homes, jobs, and rush to the abyss of war, being seemingly unnecessary for them. Now I gradually come to a conclusion that you can learn it only from your personal experience.

“I have neither wife nor children, and my job did not hold me strong”, Ustin explained. “At that time I had no acquaintances there. I just packed up and went. And then it appeared that my home is there. Exactly there, but not “at home”. Everything is clear and native for me there.

Here I involuntarily remembered a very popular during my childhood and then considered underground anti-Soviet movie “Rambo II” and the quote from it: “What you choose to call hell, he calls home!” The movie, by the way, created a furore in the “safe” American society: it appeared they had to treat their defenders with understanding and respect**. Or showdowns won’t be limited by Internet debates. Therefore I won’t insert a word into Ustin’s story; just because I have no right.


We were slowly being murdered

We were at a deployment, and were ambushed at the village of Utkino. There were nine of us. A battle raged on. I saw deaths of three our men. The driver who sat near me was killed at once. Then two more fellows... Then something blew up near me...

Russian World

From an abundant russophobic propaganda, especially inspired by the new Ukrainian authorities which use russophobia as their state ideology, you could come to quite a perversed idea of what is called the 'Russian World'. It's absolutely not about vodka, bears, devastation, vatniks* and any other kind of delirium.

For me, personally, it's more like that.

This is an announcement that appeared recently near elevators' doors in the apartment house I live in.

The announcement reads:

ATTENTION!

Low-income dwellers of our house can order a free transportation of oversized cargoes during working hours (10:00 to 18:00) or at cut rates during off-hours by agreement with the van driver Stepan (cell. phone number).

President of Group of Companies X, web address
Family name, Name, Patronymic

Boss of Centre Y, web address
Family name, Name, Patronymic

Respecting privacy of all concerned persons, I have masked personal data; besides, it's just for some dwellers of one particular house in Moscow.

Yet this is the way businesses that rent some rooms in our house cooperate with our in-house community. And such things are not unique here in Moscow, here in Russia.

And this is just a tiny little part of the Russian World.

I do hope you'll be lucky to know it better with my assistance.

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* Please be so kind to read the footnote to this post.