Like all healthy folks, I hate cops. The only thing worse than cops are Russian cops. And the only thing worse than Russian cops are the OMON–the Interior Ministry’s paramilitary goons famous for brutalizing anyone who dares to oppose the Kremlin. At the same time, I’m for just about everything Greenpeace is for. All of Norway isn’t worth one whale. So why do I find myself tipping my hat and shouting out a big “thank you” to the OMON for stomping and arresting a Greenpeace activist? Could it be because of his annoying-as-fuck mascot costume, which screams “Stomp Me!” Look at the pictures below and try to tell me that not only were the OMON totally justified, but they showed incredible restraint. Too much restraint, given the costume’s crime–where, I ask, were the OMON’s famous dubinki (clubs)? (more…)
Two Fridays ago, The staff of the eXile was shocked by the appearance of the Moscow Tribune’s “Time Out” nightlife section-a new club listings page which included snappy, no-holds-barred descriptions of bars and clubs making liberal use of such phrases as “it sucks,” “whores,” “cool,” and “16 Tons is the King Of Moscow’s Club Scene!” (more…)
A British expat goes down to the local kiosk to buy himself a pack of cigarettes, and notices a street bum begging for money. He hands the bum 3000 rubles, gets his cigarettes, then leaves. The next morning, passing the kiosk on his way to work, he sees the same bum and gives him another 3000 rubles. The bum thanks him, leans closer, then asks him earnestly, “Is there anyone you want me to kill?” (more…)
The Victim
Where are your greatest dangers?-in pity.
- Nietzsche
I did everything I could to avoid her. She’d been leaving message after desperate-rape-victim-voice message on my answering machine. What could I say? You were your own worst enemy, Marina. You let your old boyfriend screw you over time and time again, and you never learned. You had your chance to sell Living Here, and you balked. I couldn’t think of anything nice or comforting to say, and since I never disliked her, I thought it was best to avoid it all. Finally, about a week and a half ago, I caved. I agreed to meet my former LH boss, Marina Psch-, at Sally O’Brien’s for a drink. I guess I owed it to her to tell her in person why I, and the staff, all left Living Here. She broke into tears several times, which, I have to admit, gave me a lump in my throat. It’s why I hate talking to people. There’s no winning with humans-it’s a lose-lose situation, every time: either humiliation or pain, no in- (more…)
