This is the cover of The eXile Issue #3, published in March 1997.

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AIG Insurance
eXile: Hello? Irina?
AIG: Yes?
eXile: Yes, hello, I was given your number. My name is Michael B-.
AIG: Pleased to meet you.
eXile: Likewise. I’m calling because I’m interested in acquiring a life insurance policy.
AIG: I see. And you are a citizen of what country?
eXile: USA-
AIG: Because I’m not entirely sure that we insure anybody except Russian citizens.
eXile: I’m well known in Moscow. I’m friends with Paul Tatum, Paul Glotser…
AIG: What?
eXile: It’s just that I’ve been here a long time, which is why I’m calling a Russian agency.
(Fifteen minutes later) (more…)

There was an earlier version of this very column that was much better. But it got spiked. Matt didn’t like it, and nowadays, what Matt says, goes. See, I sold him the eXile for a song-or rather, a dirge. And lemme tell ya folks, that song I sold myself for ain’t gonna hit the turntables of Russkiye Gvozdy anytime soon.

I nearly had a stroke when I heard that Matt Taibbi was going to be the newly-installed rival editor at Living Here-or rather, Night of the Living Here-the Freddy Krueger of local publications. That paper has risen from the dead so many times that even Jesus must be getting nervous. Hey, those punks are stealing my schtick! I had a monopoly on this resurrection thing for 2000 years, and now look at ‘em! Yaweh, can’t we do something? They’re making us look bad! Give ‘em the old fire and thunder! (more…)

Russian prisoners looking to escape may not have to wait much longer for a choice opportunity. The press service of the GenProkuratura announced this week that more than 100 prison guards last year killed themselves, at a rate roughly analogous to that of the prisoners themselves. (more…)

On February 4, at 12 noon, I have visited Mr. Dmitri Runzhe, head of Department of Press and Information in Moscow’s Media, in his office on 19th floor of skyscraper on Novy Arbat. His office was new, comfortable, with modern furniture, even pencils were foreign. It contrasted drastically with my own office of Editor-in-Chief of radical newspaper “Limonka.” My so-called “office” have a look of revolutionary committee headquarters in 1918’s Russia. It’s located in a basement. But even from that totally awful place we are under menace of eviction now. Radical bureaucrats asking me to pay a “debt” of 137 millions of rubles. So I came to Mr. Runzhe in attempt to get some financial help. I have received no help, but we talked for an hour. (more…)

In the old days, back when I worked for a different Moscow newspaper, I used to be visited by a lanky, chainsmoking Azerbaidjani named Fakhrid Tairov. Tairov dressed in cheap ties and sport jackets, which he hid under a huge gray down overcoat that looked like a ski jacket stretched for a giant Cat-in-the-Hat puppet. The jacket was also good for hiding a huge ream of folders; Tairov was a dealer in kompromat, or compromising information. (more…)

This is the cover of The eXile Issue #2, published in March 1997.

Now that I’m back in print, I’m starting to hear it all over again: Ames, are you some kind of anti-Russian?

The short answer is, if I didn’t like it here, I’d leave. The long answer goes something like this: You have no idea what my life was like before I arrived. So I’ll tell you. (more…)

In Honor of Women’s day, Death Porn offers a glimpse of the better sex at work, at play, and at murder.

Soap on a Rope

A kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Romanova, tried to hang a 20 month old baby with a silk robe. She sent the little tyke to the gallows because said tyke’s mommie was banging Mrs. Romanova’s boyfriend.

Femme Fatale: The Miss Militsia Competition heats up during the shoot-the-swarthy-foreigner leg of the competition.

What better way to get your boyfriend’s attention than to execute his latest fling’s baby and send him swinging from the rafters (or in this case, from the low kitchen overhead lamp)? Somehow, the intrepid police managed to barge in and save the child just in time. (more…)

Doctor Limonov studied first-hand love-making habits of different women, that he could compare their qualities, stretching from the time of 70s until now, geography of his copulations stretching across most of northern hemisphere. What follows is result of rigorous research.

Brazilian. Fernanda, 26, was of a Spanish blood. Black hair, darkish skin, with a heavy ass and massive thighs. Too well-educated, studied at university under professor-writer Jorge-Luis Borges. Not very good in bed because unflexible body. Complained of inconvenience of throwing legs too high and of general “cruelty” of treatment in bed. However, lovemaking with her was an intense experience, as she was a daughter of wealthy merchant and Edward-man was poor and unemployed. She called him with hate “Trotsky.” He fucked her with hate and “cruelty.” They met in the East Village of New York. (more…)

International Women’s Day means many different things to many different people. For flower sellers, it’s sweeps month. For men, it’s time to learn to make pasta. But for women-oh yes, women-it means a whole lot more. We here at the eXile like to think that there’s a little bit of magic in the air. This March 8th, open your eyes and take a good look around you. You just might be surprised at what you see. And you might learn some hard lessons in life: what it’s like to be a woman-and moreover, what it’s like to be that world-famous type of woman, the dyevushka. (more…)