Issue #05/60, March 10 - 24, 1999  smlogo.gif


In This Issue
Feature Story
Moscow Babylon

Why Democracy Doesn't Work
Peaches 'n Hate
The Bolshoi Berezovsky
Negro Comix


By Edward Limonov

Doctor Limonov's Speech After The Women's Day

Being Russian patriot, I am convinced, however, that Europe is very center of human civilization, so Russia is enormous suburb. As well as America. For 14 years I used to live at very center of civilization, Paris, France, seven minutes of walking from church of Notre-Dame-de-Paris. It was exciting to feel that I am living exactly in the world's center. I felt no envy to some Dutch, or Pollack, or American, as I lived on rue de Turenne. On my travels to the United States, or through Europe, I would flatly answer about my place d'habitat: "Paris, France," and by that very answer I would embarrass everybody else, they would feel inferior.

Suburban territory, located very far from Paris, France, Russia is, frankly speaking, place where people should be send to punish them for some terrible crimes that they committed in Europe. (As to me, I am living here only because I am working on Revolution, for purely professional reasons.) Cold, dark, unhappy land, where summer only lasts four months, Russia however have one big attraction. It is populated by hordes of attractive females. Here in dark and freeze is located biggest in the world hunting ground for chasing females. Pale, mysterious beauties, sporting full tits, developed behinds, attractive faces, Russian females are silent and submissive. Their mystery, however, is simple. It is a lack of life-force, insensitivity born with them, influenced by empty pale landscape and dull cold climate. Being not from Paris, France, but suburban simple offsprings of archaical Russian semi-peasant civilization, Russian girls bear an additional burden to be a females. They suffer double complex of inferiority. Conceived as cockroaches (every winter) inside of ugly apartment buildings in tiny rooms, somewhere between the table and dresser on the old sofas, the girls are born victims. IN the moment of conception her future mama seeing some dull reproduction of boring painting by Levitan (Russian painter of the 19th century): some flat steppe and tiny stupid river. So, they are condemned to live entire life under influence of that Levitan's boring picture. While Russian mothers bear their children inside of them everything what they see around them is negative, desolating: gray sky, white snow, concrete-made buildings, dead trees. Sun is in shortage in Russia, colors are nonexistent during most of the year. So, her entire life Russian girl will starve for colors and sun.

They eagerly accept adventures. They are easy to contact, easy to lay. They look at man with a big gray or blue eyes, they let man do whatever man wish. Men are excited by them. Love story will be easily born with Russian girl. Man loves her so much, so man invite her to live with him. He is happy. One day man comes home earlier. In opening the door he can hear his beloved girl's voice. She calmly and cynically describing to her female friend by telephone her love adventure. In details. With somebody whose name is Max, he is wearing his hair in ponytail. (Your blue-eyed angel didn't hear you coming!) For a few minutes man hopes that her story is very old. Unfortunately for the man, no, she mentions man's name, she compares man with Max. Comparison is not in man's favor, but in Max's favor. Man is storming into the room, he beats her up. He breaks her nose. End of love story.

Conceived as cockroaches in the middle of long heavy winter under urine-smelling blankets, inside concrete-walled apartment buildings, in the snow-covered steppe, those girls are desperately trying to stay awake. Passion cannot be found in those blond heads, inside those pinky sluts, because they are born insensitive as a hell, born without sun and colors. You could work on their bodies for days, they will feel nothing. What Russian girls really like to do is to sleep. They are able to sleep for twenty hours a day. Man is intruder, he disturbing their sleep.

In order to feel something, to feel life, they should be whipped every day. That is why Russian girls' marriages with a violent men sometimes are lasting and unbreakable. Under heavy fists of rednecked, alcoholic husbands, insensitive Russian females at least stay awake.

Russia is as insensitive as Russian girls are. No crime horrible enough (as in Buddyonovsk), no war cruel enough (as Chechen war) will shake her. She can achieve an orgasm only from Revolution. My sweet girl, Russia, I will do it for you. I want to see you, grimacing in pleasure.

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