Where did you dine, sparrow? - In the 300-park with animals Two feelings are wonderfully close to us, in them the heart finds food. At least got it a week ago. Petersburg played the role of "native ashes", the third place in the role of "father's coffins" ...

Where did you dine, sparrow? – In the 300-park at the animals

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Your feelings are wonderfully close to us, in them the heart finds food. At least got it a week ago. Petersburg played the role of "native ashes", and the third place at Eurovision acted as "father's coffins". Or vice versa: Eurovision was ashes, and the tercentenary suspiciously resembled a love for coffins. In any case, one of the St. Petersburg correspondents boasted in a news program that the cannon of the Peter and Paul Fortress fired three times on the birthday of the city, “and this happens only on very important days, such as the burial of royal ashes” ...

Against this backdrop, the annual "Night of the Ad-Eaters" passed almost unnoticed, and new and not-so-new commercials on TV did not attract anyone's attention. Nobody was surprised by the man from the beer advertisement, who, on principle, watched black and white dreams when everyone else enjoyed the color ones (correction: he meant two women - a black woman and a white one; it means that his wife apparently had color dreams. Although all the advertising men have always been the opposite).

No one was vomited by the pilots, whose mouths rejoiced at a large slice (I wonder why the sausage advertisement looks so disgusting lately? Is it specially ordered by some vegetarian society?). No one looked at these beer-drinkers and sausage-eaters, everyone needed only one thing: for the tattoo girls to sing and the government boys to celebrate.

Well, they sang, they celebrated as best they could.

With the light hand of those who like to paint the city with bright numbers and letters, the tercentenary began to be called the "zoo": on banners and posters, letters and numbers were written without spaces. And the doxology about the bestiality, quite naturally, the inhabitants of St. Petersburg called bestiality. No, everything is wonderful, a beautiful city, an amazing holiday, and most importantly, a good informational occasion for advertising special beer, sausages "300 Years of St. Petersburg" and Coca-Cola "State Hermitage". And on all packs, cans, bottles, bags - the silhouette of Peter, as in Hollywood films - photographs of the missing.

Of course, I really want to believe all these advertisements: what if every sip of the Hermitage Coca-Cola will, as if by magic, restore the walls of the Hermitage, Madonnas with babies will smile all over the place, and weapons from the Arsenal will begin to jingle contentedly. And, of course, it will be great if, as the inscription on the package says, 20 kopecks from the sale of each "zoophile" pack of dumplings will go "to restore memorial plaques, fences and monuments of the Northern capital."

It will be a good capital - restored, all in memorial plaques, fences and monuments. Nobody is against it. True, it becomes a little uncomfortable when you read on the same pack: “St. Petersburg. 1703 - 2003". Just the same years of life, pip on my tongue. It is not surprising that it is Pushkin who gets into the head, and not about the "banks of the Neva", but about the "father's coffins".

And yet, no zoo, despite the scope and dumplings, could unite the audience like the Eurovision night contest. Making a performance of a lesbo-nymphet duo an event of all-Russian significance, an occasion for a patriotic broadcast - what’s there, a whole series of patriotic broadcasts, news releases, newspaper articles and almost lawsuits - this is an excellent PR move that deserves to be included in all textbooks on PR. It doesn’t matter at all whether Tatu sang well or badly, and whether they sang at all. The thing is quite different: just imagine how many adults were seriously worried about the image of our country, which, in their opinion, directly depended on how successfully two girls kissed on stage.

Apparently, some wise PR man decided to cultivate in us a sense of patriotism (really for the elections?), And with the help of what kind of fertilizers to cultivate it is already the tenth thing. Tatu is not the worst fertilizer. The 300th anniversary of St. Petersburg is very good.

If, after receiving a completely prestigious place in a completely uninteresting music competition, we suddenly start beating our chests and shouting: “We are the first anyway!”; if, after opening a pack of dumplings, we suddenly begin to proudly look around, muttering under our breath: “20 kopecks! And my 20 kopecks are in the fences of St. Petersburg! if advertising, in which we are urged to watch black and white, and not color dreams, works, even black and white, but not like everyone else, which means it’s best! - so, here it is, patriotism, is born before our eyes. From such rubbish that it is even ridiculous. Knowing no shame. And rallying everyone so much that it’s even scary.