She’ll put on her make-up and brushes her long blonde hair.
And then she asks me, “Do I look all right?”
And I say, “Yes, you look wonderful tonight.”
Eric Clapton “Wonderful Tonight” (1977).
Darling, in that skirt on you look like you put on an iron curtain.
Just me clowning.
Disclaimer: don’t read this post! Seriously. My previous post produced by the Russian totalitarian propaganda machine and sponsored by FSB, Al-Qaeda and the Tijuana Cartel bankrupted my sponsors, so I had to find new ones. This time my exclusive sponsor is the Russian mafia. The one and only. They promised to find and dissolve all anti-Russian trolls in acid but I had to give them all the money I made from my previous ‘totalitarian propaganda’ post. Life is hard for a blogger these days… 😎
This letter (forget about emails for a minute) is written as ‘the village, to my grandfather’ letter. The catchphrase ‘the
global village, to my grandfather’ (na derevnyu dedushke) is a very popular saying in Russia used when one knows that his/her letter, message, etc., is unlikely to be received by the addressee and/or it’s not very clear who the adressee is. This expression was taken from a short story by Anton Chekhov “Vanka“.
Dear Ms. West!
I wanted to write this letter long ago. I even started writing something several times but the words that I wrote faded like flowers before I could finish my letter. Hopefully, this one will make it.
I’ve always looked up to you. You know it. I wanted to be like you. It doesn’t mean that I wanted to become you but rather be as good as you. Your style, your looks, your manners. Everything was impeccable about you. Was. But then something happened. I don’t remember when exactly it started and when I noticed it.
You remember my ex-husband Boris, right? He had a problem with alcohol. You’ve always made fun of it. Yes, it was funny indeed. Waiting for an ambulance on a New Year’s Eve when your husband had a heart attack.
But it’s not about him or my current husband Vladimir. It’s about us.
And then I saw THIS. I saw you on the cover of a magazine wearing my old iron curtain dress which I left near a rubbish dump decades ago. Darling, are you OK?
Honey, you can say that I’m bitter. You can say that I’m a jealous loser bitch. You can say that I’m tripping. Unfortunately, you are the only one who’s (ego) tripping here. It’s been awhile so I don’t know whether rehab helped you. It looks like you’re back on that nose candy again. I also heard rumours that you became a leader of a sect and you preach that you will bring “peace and democracy everywhere”. I don’t believe paparazzi and yellow press. I hope it’s all lies and just the “haters gonna hate” thing.
Treat this letter as a reality check. Wake up! It’s never late to take your iron curtain
blinders shades off and throw this ugly rusty iron curtain dress away. Trust me, it won’t bring you happiness.
I’m sorry if I offended you. I know you are a proud woman. I wanted to write this letter in a calm tone but then I decided to speak my mind. I know you’ll call it ‘whataboutism‘ (your favorite word!) anyway. Take care.
P.S. The dove that carried this letter was attacked by a hawk. What happened next is unknown.