​Questions of toponymy

My nephew, who has been living in New York for quite some time, recently wrote on his Facebook page: “I almost never write about politics here, but today I was interested in one piece of news on the Internet, namely, about the naming of a square next to the embassy after Boris Nemtsov Russia in Washington. It was not the news itself that interested me, but the reaction of the Russian authorities, who offendedly promised a symmetrical response. What's the answer? For what? What's going on with them?"

After reading this, I was honestly a little upset. I wasn’t upset because my nephew was so naive and simple-minded. And not because he was so fatally divorced from the realities of our social and political life. It’s probably good that he broke away - as they say, there will be goals. What upset me was that he was surprised by something that I had already almost sniffed and that hardly surprised me anymore.

Although no, of course, and it still surprises me. And they, these same Russian authorities, are not lazy to surprise.

"What's happening to them?" - you ask, my dear nephew? A good question, as they say. And what happens to them, my dear, is something that would probably be explained better and more scientifically by a narrow professional in a purely specific field. In an amateurish way, I would call this phenomenon “acute infectious idiocy.” At least, this is how it appears from the outside to a caring layman.

And it is not known, by the way, what is more dangerous for the mental health of society - sincere ardent idiots or cynical malingerers who have learned to turn on thieves' hysterics for any reason, accompanied by seizures using copious pink foam.

Once upon a time, I read somewhere that there were villages in some Russian provinces that massively supplied cliques to the cities, who, as you know, played some special role in church life.

The clique was passed down from generation to generation with mother's milk, and in an almost literal sense.

In the fields there, where some rye was sprouting, plants that had various hallucinogenic properties also grew in abundance. Either ergot, or henbane, or something like that. And, accordingly, this plant ended up in flour in fair quantities. Well, in bread, of course.

Then many of the peasants and peasant women who ate this bread were under the constant influence of intoxicating substances. Which, of course, could not but influence the peculiarities of their everyday behavior, which in the context of a single village were perceived as an unconditional norm, and, so to speak, in external life...

When I see and hear some Duma deputies, high officials or expert political analysts on TV, it always seems to me that they are all from the same village.

They are accustomed to calling this village “Russia” and themselves “the people”.

In this case, these “people” are terribly outraged that in a distant overseas city they renamed one of the streets without consulting them, the “people”. This is how, finally, you understand!

And all this, of course, is against them. And they seem to be sincerely confident in this. Why? Can they explain?

And all the time they are putting something in their hands, slipping it in and tossing it to them. Something like that ill-fated handkerchief that was placed daily on the table of Bulgakov’s unfortunate Frida.

In fact, this is a quite common practice when the street on which the embassy of one state or another is located is named after some glorious citizen of that state. This is, in fact, a gesture of goodwill and a sign of respect for the country and people. For example, the street on which the Czech Embassy is located in Moscow is named after Julius Fucik. And the streets nearby are Hasek and Capek streets. Fine? Fine. Does this hurt the hearts of any of the Czech authorities? Have these authorities thought about a retaliatory toponymic strike? Don't think.

But no, it’s all against them. This, as one of the particularly excited elected representatives said, “is a spit in the face of our country, our people.” And not even for them personally, but literally for the people. People are just mad!

And I’ll say this, that everyone spitting in your faces would be like this!

After all, it would seem - joy for a patriot. Now, in a distant overseas country, in the very capital of this country, one of the streets will bear the name of one of the most worthy Russians of modern times. Isn't this a reason for pride?

Well, right now! Pride! This is an insult, we told you! Spit!

One of the humiliated and insulted people got so worked up there that he said that this very renaming is interference in the internal affairs of our country. Think about every word, reader, and you, as Daniil Kharms wrote on another occasion, will feel uneasy.

In a word, we must give a symmetrical answer. And without this there is no way.

Symbolic battles using names and denominations have a long tradition, rooted in the very depths of folk life. Two, say, rural neighbors are at enmity with each other. They can’t share something and generally don’t like each other.

And then one of them, out of pure cheerful mischief, names a newborn piglet after his adversary neighbor. Well, let's say Pashka. “Pashka! You dirty pig! How long can you wallow in a puddle!” - will be heard throughout the entire street.

Oh yes! OK! And we will give a symmetrical answer. And we, dear neighbor, will name the goat after your precious wife. “Lucy, bitch! I trampled the cucumber bed again! I’ll break all your legs right now!”

Or there was once such a joke. A soldier writes a letter from the army to his relatives in the village. “Dear mom and dad,” he writes, “my service is going well. I'll be home in three months. I'm really looking forward to this joyful moment. I have a big favor to ask of you. Buy a little pig and name him “Ensign Kozlov.” Fatten him up properly so that when I arrive he will be big and fat. And as soon as I arrive, I’ll kill him right away.”

So it is here. So it seems to our residents of the rundown village that the plot with the renaming of the Washington street is from the same opera. Are you telling us this? And what about us?

The idea of ​​a symmetrical “response to Chamberlain” found, as usual, a response in the hearts of many participants in the online community. Immediately, of course, numerous proposals were made.

This is really interesting - how can you rename the street in front of the American embassy in Moscow, so much so that their entire State Department goes into hysterics.

I remember, among many others, “September 11 Avenue” and “Sacco and Vanzetti Street”. For example, I suggested “Uncle Tom Avenue.” I think it's quite respectable. And, most importantly, it is instructive.

You can joke here endlessly. But seriously, these Duma sages of ours, who set out to give a “symmetrical response” to the toponymic initiative of the city of Washington, of course, will not achieve any symmetry. Where are they, and where is the symmetry? Because people and citizens symmetrical to Boris are honored and respected in America, which our sages never dreamed of. And I will never dream about it. Because they are the wise men they are.

No, well, it’s still interesting, who could they really remember if they thought at least a little and if they were really interested in symmetry?

Well, maybe Martin Luther King? So he is already a hero in America. As, indeed, Boris is in Russia.

Not only do they not know history, but they absolutely do not want to know it. Each generation of impostors is sure that it is indefinite.

They don’t even suspect that they are here - on a historical scale - for literally five minutes, and Boris - like the country, like you and me - forever.