Depobedization

A scarecrow victory coped with all the tasks of the Kremlin. Until she was ordered to be reduced to the replica of the Great Patriotic War

When Putin was invited to gut the scarecrow of the Great Victory, sew a court political strategist into him and order him to march, dance and bow to the king, he did not think long.

They defeated the museum window, took out an exhibit, shook off dust, poured sawdust and shoved some kind of crook into this skin. At first they giggled, how cleverly it turned out: the people liked the resurrection (he generally likes the resurrection), the victory zealously trumped the new commander in chief, as if not seeing any difference between this and the former; The busy deity could be driven on a leash, scaring them adversaries and inspiring the reverence for believers.

It was very convenient, and the intelligentsia, which complained, that such use of relics is a desecration of the shrine, was ignored. Yes, and those who grumbled about the desecration of shrines themselves were accused of desecrating the shrines.

And besides the intelligentsia, no one began to argue that twenty million people died not for their homeland, but for Stalin.

In addition to the intelligentsia, it was as if it were satisfied that "this should never be repeated never" somehow turned into "if necessary, repeat."

And the transformation of the day of memory and peace into a militaristic carnival also did not suit, it seems, only intellectuals, Western hires.

People can be understood. The people are ascended into May barbecue in faded tunic and caps to feel the connection with the ancestors, the absence of their poor and vain existence, the justification and meaningfulness of everyday deprivation. People cosplay front -line soldiers, because they want to feel like the successors of the affairs of those who have fallen a great and clear mission - to protect their family and free their homeland from a merciless enemy.

And power can be understood. For every day, power has been dressed in a Zhukovsky tunic to hide their nullity, its indistinguishability, its thiere, its full moral bankruptcy. The mummers are also pretended to be the heirs of the front-line soldiers, but in fact they are the heirs of the NKVD, the successors of the case of the postcards and convoys, who drove soldiers freed from German captivity now in Soviet camps. So they can “repeat them” turn out to be a repetition of not military exploits, but Zagradotnadovsky.

The authorities squeezed everything out of the victory; When one buffoon was exhausted, he was shaken out of the scarecrow and sewn the next one, and the others stood in a circle and scored ideas - what else could fulfill a gimmed deity. It turned out to be trained, it is skillfully skillfully. He was entrusted with magic with the elections, he was instructed to explain for the Crimea, he was instructed to burn the distant Syria, and to eat the opposition at home, and core with everything. Until they ordered her to be replicated by the Great Patriotic War.

The task was not simple. It was necessary to play for ours, but to behave like fascists: to start a war from the night bombing of Kyiv, right in the text of the song, and to inspire that they attacked us; To capture someone else's land and put to yourself, and to prove that we free our own. Finally, Russian people, albeit with Ukrainian passports, collide in mass graves, exactly in Esesovsky, and so that on this side of the TV everyone believed that the Nazis were just those who came to free. Difficult, in short, do not ask. Even at the scarecrow, for nothing that there was nothing original left in addition to the whip of a moth of the skin, the wool stood on end.

But nothing, they smeared, the fake orders were hung, the cap was pierced deeper and sent the people to nourish. The people doubted at the beginning: it seems to be a Patriotic war with them, and not with us? - But they doubled the scarecrow, tripled the broadcasts, and who did not want to hypnotize it with a glass gaze, they promised the deadline if it was blaspheming. And somehow it worked.

From this side of the TV, it worked. And with that, the unexpected began. On the other side, the war turned out to be domestic. Their enemy from the amusing, hypothetical became real, merciless - and most importantly, meaninglessly cruel. And the whole world, no matter how no buffoons danced, did not believe for some reason that the scarecrow was living. It became clear that the king could not win this war. What will be the defeat - sooner or later, more catastrophic or less - but victory will certainly turn into defeat. But it was too late to play back.

I want to reassure myself, and I say to myself: maybe this defeat will be liberation for our people. Because the scarecrow is cracking already at the seams and will burst soon. And only when she bursts, people will understand that they were deceived. That urki and gamers hid inside the scarecrow. That it was not a miracle of resurrection, but the abuse of vandals over the body of the saint.

There are things that cannot be explained to people. They seem to be nonsense from paper or on Yetuub, or it’s not clear what they are muttering about there: how it is not the Nazis, how it is not the same war, how it is - we are not waiting for us there - the Nazis are just with us, well, quit! You won’t understand some things if they do not live.

It may be good that now our power is exploiting the memory of those who fell on the fronts of the Great Patriotic War in this way - the most filthy, most cannibal and most tasteless way

Of all the possible - to the best of their own bad taste and cannibalism. It may be good that in the midst of this necrosyapito, it will go to the middle of the world arena, only then the unfortunate skin will burst. Only then will people finally understand. Only then will the depobility of Russia occur, and we will stop dancing with skeletons, letting go of the perfume of the ancestors to rest.

But it is insanely sorry for tens of thousands of killed people. Sorry blooming cities erased from the face. And it is also a pity that the phrase “Russian soldier” will not be identified with the protection of their homeland for a long time, but with raped women, with killed children, with white ribbons that are connected behind people in excavator ditches, and with stolen good, which the poor army in the poor homeland of a poor relatives.

In vain, tsarism decided to beat the glass of museum windows. It was easy to force the scarecrow to dance and bow to their feet-and they didn’t do anything else in order to captivate or at least entertain the people, and it was somehow out of hand to feed them. The folk faith in the victory at least somehow cemented the eternal flushing, on which there is a gritty palace of the Putin regime, a rotten palace of the Putin regime. When the power itself will destroy the belief in victory and the palace, this palace, a monument of provinciality, chew, narrow -mindedness and megalomania of its inhabitants, who have not deserved to rule a great power, will shudder, jerk and drown in the tall of Russian timelessness.