• Happy New Year!

    When I was a kid we didn’t have Christmas, Hanukkah or Kwanzaa (the latter is due to the lack of African-Ukrainians). We had New Year, with Ded Moroz and Snegurochka, “New Year’s” Tree, presents, and obligatory toast at midnight. New Year was the only Soviet holiday that wasn’t associated with any communist or revolution bullshit.
    People dressed up, even at home, the table was covered with hard-to-find delicacies and drinks. Then my Mom made me take out the trash one last time, which involved going 3 floors (81 steps) down to the cold and dark yard. Then everyone waited.
    Few minutes before midnight the General Secretary of the Communist Part of the USSR would congratulate the Soviet People with another giant leap toward communism made in a previous year and wish them to make even more giant step next year.This is what it looked like in 1971. I only expect a few readers to recognize who this is, Leonid Illyich Brezhnev died before some of you were born. I know it’s in Russian but I am sure you’ll recognize every other word being “socialism” or “communism”. Brezhnev loved himself a long speech. He could go on for hours but he knew that vodka and champagne are getting warm and people restless. But there was no escape: all three channels had the speech on. Soviet people had to be congratulated whether the wanted it or not.

    When the General Secretary finally shut up, the Kremlin Kuranty rung midnight, the universal signal to start the festivities. That’s when we toasted New Year, my Dad would go outside and leave a bag of presents right behind the door, I don’t think we even wrapped them. We usually didn’t stay up for too long. I am still not a night person. I still like New Year better than all the other holidays combined. Nobody is born, no miracles of burning oil, just a clock of life ticking along, all the bad things are behind you and a brand new, bright and shiny year is ahead.

    This year I will be celebrating in St.Louis with a bunch of other Russians, old style. Even three months of Christmas music every year can’t make us forget who we are.
    I wish you all a Happy New Year, I hope that you will prosper, win a lottery, don’t get sick and have fun.
    P.S. To all the beautiful women who want to date me next year: I will be appearing here starting January 2 so you know where to find me.

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  • That’s How It’s Protected, The Soviet Sacred Border, And No Evil Bastard Will Ever Get Inside!

    As the news of an American spy being arrested in Russia with an entire Maxwell Smart spy kit in his possession filled the Russian and American airwaves, I realized that sadly the CIA doesn’t read this blog. Just a few weeks ago I provided a set of instructions for the spy to survive in Russia undetected. Things like putting your feet up, sipping and enjoying cocktails, being too smart and hard-working, wigs, money and compasses will definitely get you found out. Or even a lost button from your pant pocket. Here is a song based on a true story, written in 1939 and performed by some kids.

    httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bb_i_48TgpU

    *very free translation mine.

    A little brown button was lying on the road,
    And no one had noticed it in tons of brown dust.
    A bunch of bare feet was stomping on that road,
    A bunch of tanned and bare feet by little button passed.

    The boys walked in a crowd all from a distant village,
    Alyosha walked behind all and raised the most dust.
    On purpose or by accident, he couldn’t tell for sure,
    He stepped on little button, and stopped in place aghast.

    “This button don’t look ours!” – cried out all the children.
    “And weird foreign letters are written very large!”
    To border patrol station they raced like wild horses
    To show little button to someone who’s in charge.

    “Please show me exactly,” – told them commander strictly
    And opened map of border he right in front of troop.
    He asked the name of village and brown dusty road
    Where little boy Alyosha felt button with his foot.

    Four days they wasted looking for man on every road,
    Four days they looked for him, forgetting any sleep
    On fifth day the had found the evil-looking stranger
    And gave him very thorough search like very very deep.

    They found button missing on enemy’s back pocket!
    A button wasn’t present on foreign baggy pants.
    And deep inside the pocket – a cartridge from revolver,
    A map of Soviet border and other secret plans.

    Patrolmen praised the children for bravery and courage
    And then the border captain shook all of their hands
    They gave the children rifle checkpoint had in storage
    And little boy Alyoshka was given drum for bands.

    That’s how it’s protected, the Soviet sacred border.
    And no evil bastard will ever get inside!
    Alyoshka kept the button, because he is a hoarder.
    A little brown button with praise and lots of pride!

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  • The Face Of The Boss As A Face Of The Business

    I could totally turn this blog into a display of old pictures and still be happy with it. Browsing through the old photos always makes me wonder why people’s faces changed so much since the 40’s and 50’s. When was the last time you saw a person who looked like this:

    Kansas City Star Editor & Publisher Roy A. Roberts

    “Roy Allison Roberts (more photos) was a managing editor, president, editor and general manager of The Kansas City Star who guided the paper during its influential period during the Presidencies of Harry S. Truman and Dwight D. Eisenhower”. Looking at Mr.Roberts’s photo I get a sense of a determined decisive person who knows what he is doing. Granted, this impression may be completely wrong, he may have been a total incompetent, but that’s what I think when I look at the picture.

    mark_ziemanNow let’s take a look at the face of the current publisher of Star Mark Zieman. For all I know, Mr.Zieman may be a future Nobel Prize Laureate but his face doesn’t exactly exude business confidence, assurance, decisiveness and drive. Maybe he is a nice guy and a great person but who do you want to represent your business at a tough time – a man who looks like a nice guy, or a man with a face of a bulldog who looks like his is ready to kick your ass and shove that cigar you-know-where if things are not done, deadlines are not met and orders are not followed.

    Even getting fired is more acceptable from a Mr.Roberts-looking guy, than from a an insincerely apologetic person who looks like Mr.Zieman. No amount of cigar smoke can compensate.

    Does the path from bosses like Mr.Roberts – tough, larger-than-life personalities, to people like Mr.Zieman – nicer, more intellectual types, reflect the transformation of businesses like Kansas City Star from an influential force in the city to a thin folded stack of paper with color photos and crappy articles? I don’t know the answer but I thought it was a neat theory.

    This concludes my amateur face-character analysis session. Make sure to look at the other photos of Roy A.Roberts where is featured on the cover of the Time magazine or pictured talking to President Truman.

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  • I Went To Russia And All I Have To Show Is A Prison Tattoo

    When I was growing up® there was an old joke (which I may have told here before, but I only remember about three of these so I have to recycle): An American is walking around in Moscow and falls into an unmarked open manhole. He screams: “I can’t believe some idiot left a manhole open here without any warnings! Where were the cones, tape, warning red flags?”
    An old Russian passer-by says “When you were crossing the border did you see a giant red flag?”
    “Yes” -American replies,
    “That was your warning!” (I need to brush up on my dialogue punctuation, but you get the idea)
    Few Americans who comment here have actually been to Russia and they will confirm that being a foreigner there is like running a plow through a minefield, you never know when it’s gonna blow, but you are pretty sure it will, sooner or later. The only protection is your wallet but you can’t just go around openly paying people off, it’s an art. Apparently at there are enough foreigners who have not mastered the art of bribery to have a special international prison described by one unfortunate victim in his book Zone 22 ( I am pretty sure the same book is published in the US as Tomorrow You Go Home: One Man’s Harrowing Imprisonment in a Modern-Day Russian Gulag)

    zone-22 Tomorrow

    I haven’t read the book yet, I am waiting for my turn at the library, but there are plenty of blurbs around to suggest that if you don’t know what you are doing you may come back from Russia with a couple of prison tattoos instead of Matryoshkas for your girlfriend.
    If I like the book I may review it in a few weeks.

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  • The Ostracization Of Boris Pasternak

    Public outrage is easy to come by these days. Whether it is signing a petition to remove a statue from the public view, complaining about a store ad being too gay or just clicking on a Facebook page to support or condemn some cause, expressing your views doesn’t even require a trip to a mailbox anymore. And while some comments on these sites and petitions look angry and radical, these people should stand back in awe of the original masters of public character assassination and manufactured outrage – the Soviet Press.

    The following page was published in the Soviet Literaturnaya Gazeta (Literary Newspaper) on November 1st 1958. In this issue various writers, artists, organizations, and even regular Soviet citizens expressed their outrage with the actions of Boris Pasternak, the author of Doctor Zhivago, who was awarded a Nobel Prize for his anti-Soviet novel. Famous Russian joke “I haven’t read Pasternak, but I condemn him” was extracted from one of the letters on this page.

    Newspaper condemning Boris Pasternak
    Soviet Newspaper Condemning Boris Pasternak
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