Edward Limonov «The eXile»

Edward Limonov

130 текстов в газете «The eXile»

Moscow-based alternative newspaper

Edward Limonov (nbp@limonka.net)

http://www.exile.ru/ https://exiledonline.com/

February 1997 — July 2008


Limonov's coups d'etat

The Limonov's X-Files

I have lived through two of them. The first time was in Serbia. Belgrade. February 1993. Mighty knock in the door of my room at hotel «Majestik» at 4 a.m. Paratrooper-Sergeant picks me up. We are starting our voyage to Serbian Republic of Kninskaya Krajina, which Croatian regime wants to conquer. I am following sergeant downstairs. It is freezy night. On the neighboring street we enter sleepy old bus, full of peasants, seems to me. Our way is going to be long and dangerous through Balkans. We will follow narrow corridor through Bosnia to Banja Luka and then through Herzegovina to Knin, the capital of Kninskaya Krajina.

As we have reached Serbian border with Bosnia «peasants» preparing their passports and various permissions. I am taking out my permission, («Dozvola» in Serbian») to enter Kninskaja Krajina, signed by Minister of Foreign Affairs of Republic. I met him Friday in Belgrade. Actually what I carry is «mandat» asking all the local Serbian officials to help me as they can. «Hide it!» says young lad seating next to me. «Yesterday Kninskaja Krajina experienced a coup d'etat. Minister of Interior Milan Martic issued the orders to arrest group of ministers, Minister of Foreign Affairs among them. If you don't want to be arrested yourself don't show your «mandat» to anybody. Tore it!»

Luckily, Serbian border guards are friendly with «peasant» population of the bus. Nobody asking us about papers. After quarter of an hour old bus is continuing its way in the snow. My «peasants» move, laugh and step by step transforming themselves into soldiers. Lad who have announced me coup d'etat is assembling Thompson machine-gun, extracting parts of it from his bag. In half-an-hour the bus is transformed into a travelling combat unit armed to the teeth. Even I, foreigner, is owner of a Yugoslavian made pistol, Browning type, present from military commander of Wogosca district near Sarajevo, souvenir of my Bosnia war in 1992. Now I am going to fight as a volunteer in Kninskaja Krajina. Milan Martic was then minister of Interior. President of Republic was at that time KhadjicÑex-dentist. I tore «Dozvola.» It was better to travel without any paper…

Today, the State of Kninskaja Krajina doesn't exist anymore, invaded by the Croatian Army. All my fellow travellers soldiers are dead.

September 21, 1993. Moscow. 8 p.m. On the state television President Yeltsin announcing his decree No.1,400. Parliament is dissolved. At 8:20 I am taking taxi heading to the headquarters of newspaper «Dyen» on Tsvetnoi Boulevard. At 9 p.m. eleven of us (my friend captain Schurigin among) are debarking from two cars in front of Russian «White House,» the House of Soviets. We are volunteers to defend the House of Soviets from the troops of President.

The People's Deputies are scared to death. Security measures at entrances of the White House are draconian. We are signing up our names on the list of volunteers. We eleven are on the very first list of volunteers. After almost one hour we are finally admitted into the House of Soviets. Two generals, one of them Tarasov, a People's Deputy, conducting me and another volunteer to our assigned post at the principal entrance No.1, facing the River Moskva. There are two militiamen already in place plus two of us, making four defenders of entrance. After brief interrogation by generals (Did you served in the Army? Have you military grade?) it was me who was appointed as commander of the post. As generals find out that I have wide and recent military experience: five wars in 1991–1993.

«Will you give us a guns?» asked I.

«Yes, we will,» said general Tarasov.


«When it's gonna start…» said general Tarasov. «The ammunition room is next to you.»

And he pointed at ammunition room guarded by militiaman. I wasn't in agreement. Through glass doors of entrance No.1 one could see the first lines of special militiaÑmen of Yeltsin, dangerously close, closer than our own ammunition room.

About midnight I went to the 16th floor to sign a Declaration of Support to the rebel Supreme Soviet of Russia on behalf of parties and organizations. My signature was seventh, just after General Titov's of National Salvation Front. My National-Bolshevik's Party, just born on September 8, 1993, was baptized that night.

The next few nights I have spent in headquarters of General Achalov, who was appointed as the Deputy Minister of Defense of rebel government. I have witnessed whole chain of events leading to the tragedy of October 3rd and 4th. I saw immobility, lack of initiative of Achalov, deficiency of energy of Chief of State Security Committee Barannikov (former Yeltsin head of KGB), and simple stupidity of their entourage. President No.2, General Rutskoi, himself gave example of indecision. One day he ordered to give us weapons; in a few days he ordered to collect them; and in few more days gave order to re-distribute them. So I learn how not to do coup d'etat. Already on September 24th it was clear to me that Rutskoi and his men are too small for the job of coup d'etat. Nevertherless I have supported them to the end and only a miracle saved me from bullet and death on asphalt near the entrance of Technical Center of Ostankino in the evening of October 3rd. Television talked about me been wounded and dead. But I survived and so I will live to see third coup d'etat.

It will be mine.

#0, February 6–20, 1997

I have one year left…

The Limonov's X-Files

September 12, 1996. 2 p.m. Gogolevsky Bulvar, near metro Kropotkinskaya. I am walking alone. I am returning from a demonstration of protest against shameful, unjust Chechnya peace accord just concluded by General Lebed. Event took place near Russian White House. It was organized by my National — Bolshevik's party. Slogans were explicit: «Lebed — The No.1 Chechen of the Year!» «Lebed — to the jail bench!» «For what been killed our boys!»

Suddenly I am stopped by an acquaintance of mine, young painter with his wife. «Edward, you are followed by two guys. You better to walk with us, cause they prepare something: they have exchanged the signs behind your back, pointing at you…»

Turn around I see them. One, sporting ugly Turkish training suit, walks behind me. Another one-blond, rather fat, crew cut on round head, clad in brown leather jacket, steps on opposite side of the street. I am surprised, because the fat one I saw about an hour ago. He and few friends of him been watching our demonstration. «What a hell such criminal types do at such political event,» thought I. Now it is clear, they went to see me.

Painter Aleksei, his wife and me, we walk to Novy Arbat. We enter huge book store «Dom Knigi.» We go through it, exit from the back door. An hour later they walk me home. I am disturbed but not too much. It is Moscow-city of all dangers.

September 18, 7:30 p.m. I am leaving «bunker» — the basement premises of my newspaper «Limonka» on Second Frunzenskaya street. I am heading home. This is Wednesday, the day my biweekly comes out. Long working day is over and I am tired. So, I forget simple security arrangements what I been following lately. I am alone, while I should be escorted by my boys. In order to shorten my way to metro station I am cutting through courtyards.

I hear heavy breath behind me simultaneously with a blow on the back of my head. I am falling down under the force of a few bodies. They beat me in the head, and only in the head, with their boots. Silently, with precision. After a while they stop, because of crowd of passers — by walking from metro station. They run away as they understandably don't have intention to be seen. Raising myself from a pool of blood I realize happily that I wasn't designated to be beaten to death. It is just first warning.

I am walking back to the «bunker.» Blood is pouring over my face. My clothes spilled with blood. I found a dozen of my boys in «bunker.» They are horrified to see their «vozhd'» in such a state. But I was reckless, so I paid the price. Next day I visited police station and have undergone medical examination. I discovered that my nose is broken twice and that surface of my left eye is damaged. Now I have permanent black scratches that look like a period and comma in my vision. Everything I see out of my left eye has these scratches.

Police starts investigation. In a few days time they show me six photos of persons who I wasn't able to recognize. On September 23, at 9:30 p.m., Igor Yegorov, member of editorial board of «Limonka,» is attacked in the similar way, beat on the head, until he lost consciousness. Medical staff of hospital No.20 certified severe concussion of the brain. On September 25, at night time door of our «bunker» on Second Frunzenskaya is broken, personal questionnaires of party members are stolen. Later, they are found by me in my letter-box with a note:

«Limonov, have pity for your boys. Otherwise — yes, death!» Afterwards-silence. Nothing. Attack is over?

«Things will be quiet now, for a year, or a year and half,» assured me captain Vladislav Schurigin, friend of mine. «But afterwards you risk to be killed.» Schurigin knows too well what that business of killing is all about. Himself he is condemned to death by Chechens, for the crime of showing on television… a Chechen's ear, sliced off by soldiers of Russian special forces.

Who did assault me? At press-conference on September 19, I have said that I suspect people of Lebed. «Limonka» have severely attacked him almost in every issue. Yes, we have abused many politicians: Yeltsin, Chernomyrdin, Zyuganov — but Lebed was and is our main target. Then I know the methods of General too well: his personal guards, the ÓBlue Berets» from Transdnestr, have beaten, arrested and killed opponents of the General, including Lieutenant — Colonel Kostenko. When he came to Moscow, Lebed took some of the Blue Berets with him.

Some sources of Ministry of Interior and those of FSB suggested that I've been assaulted by one of the rival Nationalist parties. But as the goal of the FSB and Ministry of Interior is exactly to neutralize us nationalists, and to divide us, I don't believe their version. Marks on my left eye will remain forever, said doctor.

#1, February 20 — March 5, 1997

On women's comparative sexuality

The Limonov's X-Files

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.

American. Next door girl, Julie, 22, eldest daughter of FBI agent, from a Virginian family of six children. Tall, pretty, heavy ass, slim long legs, but little bit cross-eyed. Of simple, almost peasant habits, she was a house-keeper of a rich New York City socialite, she made her own bread, and practiced belly dancing. Superb, unbeatable friend, she felt little of love-making 'cause of too big vagina and some other probably clinical reasons that her partner Edward ignored.

Jewish. Marilyn, 21. Tall, slim, perfect tits. Have had some psychological problems, resulted in a strange phobia, in a habit to pinch out hair of eyebrows and those on her head. Sported a wig constantly, even if under a shower. Was a very good fucker, one of the best in Edward's life.

French. Drug-dealer Ellen, 37. Aging jail-bird, in and out of prison. Skinny, wrinkled, may be too hot and sleazy inside, but very good as a love-partner. Very attentive to the man's needs, proud to be «clean French woman.» She would clean her partner's genitals after love-making with a hot wet towel, saying, «I am not an American, I am French woman.» Used Quaaludes/cocaine combination for love-making. Good old girl. God save her at the Ricker's Island Women's Yard. If she is still there.

Mongol Yelena, 20, nick-named «Tugrik.» Daughter of a pure-blooded Mongol from Ulan-Bator in Republic of Mongolia and Russian mother. Mongol-faced and Russian-bodied. Pretty, tall, elegant girl with a charming drunken habit and accompanying it nymphomania. Completely shameless, born to fuck, «everybody's darling,» opening her legs after few whiskeys.

French. Jacqueline, Countess, 40. Tall, skinny, alcoholic, from Parisian world of high fashion. Used to drink heavily and have a habits of an alcoholic truck-driver, rather than those of countess. When drunk, would fall, would enter driver's door of her car, would exit by crawling out from the passenger door. Always kept liter bottle of a cheap beer next to bed in order to drink it at night. Good passionate lover, pissed when having an orgasm.

Scottish. Fiona, 31, TV star. She was recognized by the crowd when she walked streets of London, 'cause she played in popular TV soap opera. Heavy build Scottish woman. Unpleasant heavy odor of her vagina was so unbearable that have killed all sexual sentiments. Biggest failure of Edward's sexual life. She also proved to be greedy. For two years (!) she bombarded Edward with demand to pay her back some small money spent by her on Xeroxing his manuscript.

French. Anne and Carol, about 25, editors of known porno magazine in Paris. Anne: small, slim, tender, and nymphomaniac. She fucked in every possible way with a great enthusiasm. But Carol, oh Carol, was a real miracle. Tall, heavy long legs, animal ass, big tits, slim shoulders. Face of a village whore, defect of a speech (she lisped), she wore a terrible tasteless clothes as a concierge. Anne was a very good fucker, she wept when fucked (preferred to be fucked into her rear), but Carol, oh, Carol was above Anne and above any woman. Carol's talent of lovemaking was of a supernatural origin. She moved, groaned and excited man in such a way that all men who happened to sleep with her were charmed forever. One moment one felt he fucks the majestic queen, the next moment that obscene fat animal. Carol was a Devil or a dirty big-assed goddess of lust.

German. Renata, 35, artist-painter from Munich. Prussian aristocrat. Almost skeleton, very tall, pretty, well-educated, extremely literate. Strange in bed, like a big, skinny cold child, that needs to be warmed up.

Serbian. Militsa, 17, student. Very big, of a heavy beauty. Black hair, big Turkish lips and ass, Slavic puffy face. Her cunt leaked with desire, like that of a big young animal. Too big vagina, inconvenient, but nice to feel anyway, feels like a man making love to young horse.

Russian. Masha, 17, National-Bolshevik Party member. Tender, big tits, fat, good-natured small child. Rosy cheeks. Feels as one fucks his own fat daughter.

Russian. Natasha, 19. From a «New Russian»'s divorced family. Have no tits at all, round ass, face of a girl of 13. Wears a Doc Marten's high boots, and «Naf-Naf» clothes. Her list of lovers have a name of a leading singer of known Russian rock group and at least one bandit. Funny, insolent, she fucks of desire to be adult. One fucks her as a daughter of an enemy.

Peruvian woman. No name, age is uncertain. From a crowd of women that God sent to Edward that is worth of mentioning separately. Peruvian woman was an American Indian pure blood, she had a narrow «Aztec's» nose, very narrow strangely long angles, enormous haunches and ass, huge long tits with a brightly red nipples. She was like an extraterrestrial, not a human.

1. DESERVE TO MENTION: that good women very often lousy lovers.

2. NOTE: No doubt, in general Jewish girls should be prized in a matter of fucking.

3. Another comparison of sexual intercourse with her: Auchwitz's victim love.

#2, March 6–19, 1997

Russia's press licks the hand that feeds it

The Limonov's X-Files

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.

I discovered that Moscow's «government,» as it called itself, have agreement with some Moscow's newspapers. According to those agreements editorial boards of newspapers have took obligations to write about city life, and give the readers an information about decisions made in the offices of Moscow «government.» In exchange newspapers have received some money, they called hypocritically «subsidies.» The «Evening Moscow» [Vecherny Moskva] has received in 1996 7,6 billion rubles. «The Evening Club» has had 192 million. The absolutely insignificant weekly «Kuranty» got 2,4 billion rubles, «Moskovskaya Pravda» got 1,4 billion rubles, «Obschaya Gazeta» had 850 million. That is obvious that those publications stay at least loyal to Moscow's «government.» I said to Mr.Runzhe that we in «Limonka» are also loyal to Mr.Luzhkov, but for the different reason: he is defending the right of Sevastopol to be and to stay the territory of Russia.

«Our budget for 1997 is already closed and fulfilled,» said Mr.Runzhe, and we parted. I left him in his brand new office.

«Limonka,» I believe it the only independent newspaper in Russia. Only few examples: from 1995 «Nezavisamaya Gazeta» is owned by joint-stock company, the biggest share belongs to concern «LogoVaz,» with Mr.Berezovsky in head of it. The bank «Moscow» (actually Moscow's governmental bank) own crucial share of newspaper «Evening Moscow.» LukOil company bought 19.5% shares of «Izvestia.» The bank Menatep owns 70% of «Literaturnaya Gazeta» and 10% of shares of «Independent Media» company, who owns newspapers «Kapital» and «Moscow Times.» Even «Pravda» was bought few years ago by Greek investors.

The fact that banks are buying newspapers is rather world-widely spread practice. But Russian banks and companies are different. They all closely connected with political powers, they actually are political powers in itself, and to it Mr.Berezovsky is vivid illustration, as he is the chief-adjunt of «Security Council.» Moscow's government buying good behavior of its press in another example and not innocent one. Because Mr.Luzhkov is possible candidate for president in only 31/2 years.

Investment in Russian press is not a commercial affair, but a huge dispense. To maintain daily publication of 100,000 copies, costs about from 10 to 15 millions of U.S. dollars. However, those spendings are not in vain. Most of investments in media been compensated during President Yeltsin's election campaign, when President was in need of «politically correct» reporting of his campaign. Banks and companies owners of media profited from Yeltsin's election and defeat of Zyuganov. It is probably that very fact of their existence would have been questioned on election day if Zyuganov win.

So, Russian media is bought. Only because we still have a multi-political society, Russia have not lost the freedom of expression. But we are losing it every day more. Who bit the hand that feeds one? Not a Russian press.

#3, March 20 — April 2, 1997

Better red than unread: Solzhenitsyn sells out!

The Limonov's X-Files

On March 26th, communist leaders Gennady Zyuganov and Anatoly Lukyanov been seen entering dacha of famous writer Alexander Solzhenitsyn at Serebryany Bor. What for? We now know what for.

Exclusive resort area of «Serebryany Bor» near Moscow in pine growth on the bank of Moscow River is very prestigious land. Ministers, generals, high-ranking officials, all the mighty and wealthy of Russia having their summer residences, their «dachas,» at Serebryany Bor. To live there means to have special social status.

After his return to Russia, famous anti-communist writer Alexander Solzhenitsyn have joined that happy little crowd in pines' shadow: a generous Yeltsin's government have given to writer 200 square meter apartment in very center of Moscow, in the same building with Mr.Chubais, but also super-gift, a piece of land in «Serebryany Bor.» In former times it served as dacha to Lazar Kaganovich-Stalin's Minister of Transport and Railroads. [The very ministry responsible for shipping Solzhenitsyn out to the Gulags — ed.] Solzhenitsyn's anti-communism doesn't went so far, as to reject gift of ex-communist boss, formerly member of Central Committee and member of Politburo, Mr.Yeltsin. He seems also have had no objection to live on the same territory with a ghost of Stalin's lieutenant bolshevik Lazar Kaganovich. So, from Vermont, USA via Alaska-Vladivostok, through Siberia and Moscow, Solzhenitsyn arrived in «Serebryany Bor,» where Turkish workers were busy with finishing paintings in «dacha.» All the staff, of course, were there to welcome «baron.» Unfortunately for them, «baron» was in the bad mood, and he is, as a matter of fact, still in a bad mood.

Story is, that already during this Trans-Siberian trip, Solzhenitsyn found it difficult to be an anti-communist in Russia, where half of population are anti-communist. Bright old man understood that his lectures on evil of communism were appropriate in Vermont, USA. But in Moscow, Russia, in order to keep attention on himself he might do some drastic revision of his position. And he did. At his television weekly appearances, «Solzh» started to attack the government.

Predictably, government have not enjoyed lecturer «Solzh» (rather boring and banal) attacks on him on television. After some months of hesitation government have cut out «Solzh» from telespectators. Person who was famous all over the world for more than 30 years cannot live without attention of the crowd and out of attention of media. «Solzh» understood the nature of his tragedy: he is rapidly fading away as a public figure. So, no wonder that he started desperately to renovate his public image. Meanwhile, he had completely disappeared from the airwaves and from print.

In very beginning of March, «eXile» been contacted by «insider» as that man have called himself. He only indicated that he is working for Solzhenitsyn's family and asked for some money in exchange for «interesting information» about bearded writer. Sum demanded was rather small, so we met and exchanged our money for his information. «Insider» claimed that at his «dacha» in Serebryany Bor, Alexander Solzhenitsyn have met recently some personalities from the inner circle of Mr.Zyuganov, secretary general of the Communist Party of Russian Federation. Namely, on March 7, Solzhenitsyn's dacha was visited by Mr.Chikin, deputy of Duma and editor-in-chief of newspaper «Sovietskaya Rossiya.» Few days later in evening of March 11, Mr. Yuri Ivanov, also communist deputy of Duma have entered Solzhenitsyn's dacha in secret through back door. Our informer claimed that he heard the part of conversation between Mr.Solzhenitsyn and Mr.Chikin on March 7. Solzhenitsyn's participation in the next presidential elections have been discussed. Communist Party of Russian Federation wanted Solzhenitsyn as its candidate. But in exchange for backing of mighty communist machine, Mr.Chikin said, Solzhenitsyn should declare himself publicly the member of the Communist Party. Writer's objection to it was that people of Russia were not prepared to such a drastic change in political views of its Idol. (Yes, confirmed informer, Solzhenitsyn called himself «Idol.») Mr.Chikin said that «you have plenty of time, dear Alexander, to make that change less painful for people, slowly moving towards us. But Mr.Zyuganov wants you to take party membership card now. You can declare that you become the member of our party later, but must take the membership card now.» Solzhenitsyn angrily replied something, but our informer didn't heard what exactly he said. On March 27th, informer called to our office and excitedly announced: «It's done! Yesterday Zyuganov himself, accompanied by Anatoly Lukyanov, have visited dacha. They gave him membership card! I know the number: 263 651 member of Communist Party of Russian Federation is Alexander Solzhenitsyn!»

#4, April 1–9, 1997

Whips & castration: a guide to Russian cults

The Limonov's X-Files

On the walls of ugly sleeping quarters of Moscow, of all those Tchertanovos, Khimki-Khovrinos Belyaevos and Orekhovos, on the old fences here and there still possible to find the faded away posters. Young attractive woman, wearing some strange-looking, museum Egyptian-style head decoration. With a one hand she is squeezing some sort of scepter. Maria Davy Christos.

Hundreds of thousands followers all over Russia and Ukraine were worshipping that modern Goddess from 1990, when she and her sect «White Brotherhood» suddenly appeared in confused and mentally disturbed post-Soviet Russia. Maria Krivonogova-young school-teacher, her brother and her husband-hastily responded to the silent demand of the masses: «Give us an object of adoration, as we are without any.» So Maria and hers have produced some religion made of mixture of poorly understood Christianity with a poorly understood Khrishnaism. Maria-Davy brought to hysteria Russia and Ukrainian masses until the day in 1992 when she was arrested with a tens of her followers, during an attempt to occupy the Kiev's Kievo-Pecherski Cathedral: Arrested, she undergone trial and was condemned to eight years of imprisonment.

Story of school-teacher Maria Krivonogova, becoming Maria Davy Christos, The Goddess, is sentimental and tender one. It proves that today as a many centuries ago it is still possible to create a religion.

As a matter of fact, the cult of «Bogoroditsa» (or to be exact, «Ones that gived birth to the God») is strong in Russian Orthodox Church, but «Bogoroditsa» is also a main figure of Russian cults. Thus, the sect of «Khlisti» (or whippers), [few centuries old and flourishing during the years before the Revolution of 1917] was worshipping carefully chosen «Bogoroditsa.» Usually, «Bogoroditsa» was a young girl.

The so called «radenya» (joyous gatherings) could be compared to the ancient mysteries, were in fact collective orgies. They started from ritual dancing, self-flagellation, undressing. Then, with a rising rhythm and intensity of a dance, they would culminate in copulation of a group with a «Bogoroditsa.» Diametrically opposite approach was practiced by the sect of «skoptsi.» The right to enter the sect of «skoptsi» was gained and preceded by macabre ritual of castration: «malaya pechat» (small seal) — when the balls of man were cutted out. Some more demanding natures were not satisfied by degree of asceticism and renunciation of the world and more complicated operation was required: the complete elimination of genitals: or «belaya pechat» (white seal). The sect of «skoptsi» gained in 19th century popularity among the Russian aristocracy. The head butler to Alexander I, Count Elanski, «Skopets» himself, even went so far as to propose to Tsar a bizarre project of making entire Russian administration members of sect «skoptsi.» On the ground that «skoptsi» is natural aristocracy of Russia, they are free of worldly emotions. Alexander I was outraged and sent Elanski in eXile, but famous aristocratic salon of countess «Tatarinova» was infected with a «Khlisti,» «Skoptsi,» «flagellants» and others. Decembrist revolutionaires and Pushkin himself frequented «Tatarinova.» According to some sources, Pushkin was flagellant.

During the reign of a Nicolas I, when it was dangerous even to declare oneself of other religion than Russian Orthodox, according to the official statistic, one third of Russians were members of heretical cults. Most of them were «staroobriadtsi» (Old Believers), those who didn't follow the rites of reformed Russian church of Patriarch Nikon. Nikon's reform of 1666 divided the church. The Old Believers were making sign of cross with a two fingers, the new reformed orthodoxes — with three fingers. But real differences run much deeper. The only Reformation of a Russian church done by Nikon was done in order to modernize it. Resistance to Nikon's reform was strong and repressions on them — savage. «Raskolniki» (breachers), as were called «Old Believers,» threw themselves in a fire with babies, entire families perished. Some «Old Believers» escaped to Siberia, some to America, or even to China. The spiritual leader of Old Believers protopope Avacum was burned.

The Old Believers didn't forgive it to Romanov's dynasty. Many of them joined Bolshevik's centuries after. The reason why capitalist Savva Morozov helped Bolshevik's party in financing was not a whim, but his inherent hatred for Romanov's dynasty and its Nikonian church. 1917 October Revolution was saluted by many Old Believers. They were enchanted. As three fingers church was regarded as a sacrilegious, Old Believers saluted antichurch activity of Bolsheviks.

#5, April 10–23, 1997

The best form of word is action

The Limonov's X-Files

Few weeks ago, one of my party comrades brought me a present, a few military pennants. I hang them here and there in my apartment. One, with a sword, clenched fist, words «detachment of special task force» and slogan «The best form of word is action» I have hanged over my work-table. It hang there for sometime, then one day I suddenly noticed the name of detachment below. «Vitiaz» — it said. I immediately removed pennant from the wall. As those «vitiazes,» bastards, tried to kill me in the evening of October 3, 1993. Only my luck prevented me from been killed. After taking over the sky-scrapper of Moscow's Mayor's building (the former building of Soviet of Economical Mutual Help, or COMECOM) in afternoon on October 3, opposition masses, and me, among them, stormed the buses, awaiting for some reason near the Mayor of Moscow. Happy and drunk of victory we get in and headed for Ostankino. In our bus nobody had guns. Few boys were armed with aluminium shields and clubs confiscated of militiamen during the day, when we victoriously pushed through militia cordon's towards blockaded Russian White House. We desired weapons, yes, but we didn't have them.

The buses run through Moscow in general air of jubilation and feelings of revolution happening. In our bus, we removed glass-windows and screamed into the streets «Yeltsin-Kaput!» «Yeltsin-Kaput!» «The power to the people!» People were screaming back to us the same slogans. Even the reach, locking their «Mercedeses» and «Volvos» were showing us signs of «V» — victory. Certainly out of fear, not out of love.

Then suddenly in the middle of Prospekt Mira, we saw THEM. The detachment «Vitiaz». A dozen of armed personal carriers, machine-guns pointing severely to all directions, soldiers, sitting on carriers, equipped with a strange modern-weapons, looking like a personages of «Star Wars» of Spielberg. They were waiting.

Now, I know that they were waiting for us. But in that late afternoon of October 3, we, riding our yellow bus, thought it is Army who's heading to help us, people, to take over Ostankino. So, we cried «Hurr-a-a-a-a to the Army! Idiots.

They reacted differently. Some of them even show us signs of victory, others, majority of them, menacingly shaked at us their fists. Apparently in total confusion of that confused day they been waiting for order in the middle of Prospect Mira.

Dozen of us, we jumped off the bus at Korolyova street. We wanted to get some weapons from the militiamen, guarding the huge buildings populated by the Deputies of Supreme Soviet and their families. We have not succeeded. Militiamen said that they have no weapons here, all of them supposedly stocked at police-station. They have lied to us, of course. When we get to Ostankino we saw that special task forces armed carriers were already there. They been parked at the corner of Administration Building, one near the pond.

Towards 7 p.m. a few thousands of us were blocking the both entrances at Ostankino television complex: that of Administration building and of Technical center. General Makashov arrived surrounded by a very few armed men. I counted eleven Kalashnikov's, not more, not less. Makashov saw me, shake my hand. He said: «You should make uprising of intelligentsia, Edik!». It sounded absurdly out of place. «Better to give me a gun, please,» replied I. «No spare guns. Sorry», he said. «All are being used.» Makashov proceeded to negotiate with militiamen, in order to let revolutionary masses inside. It didn't work, militia locked the doors from inside.

At 7:30 p.m., after twelve years of abstention from smoking I met a Russian cigarette «Yava» into my mouth. The leader of a Front of National Salvation Konstantinov gave me a light. We both were staying in no more then 20 meters from the entrance of Technical Center building. At 7:31, the truck of opposition started to hit the glass-doors of entrance. Numerous telejournalists and photographers oozed through us, straggling for the place in a first row of spectators. Then suddenly it was an explosion. And unbearable heat of it. After a moment of silence we heard the sound of heavy machine-guns working.

From my five wars I brought an instinct of survival. I fall to the ground and started to crawl out of reach of their weapons. When I reached the basalt rocks of unknown destination, probably they served as a border of gigantic flower-bed, I stopped there and looked back. From twenty to thirty bodies were laying there, some wounded and screaming some dead and silent. The Irish free-lance journalists and many others journalists were killed there by tracer bullets of those «Vitizaers» (in translation from Russian — «the knights», «chivalry»). Very probable that one of journalists took my death, or Konstantinov's death.

Later I crawled towards the small hut, containing an electrical transformer. We were about fifty people, taking refuge behind it. But «Vitiazies» have met a machine-gun at the roof of Administration building and shout at us, with a tracing bullets. In one moment I saw as a red point traversed my torso. It stayed on my hand then slowly moved on the shoulder of my neighbor. Behind infra-red sight brave «Vitiaz» took an aim at unarmed people, choosing himself a victim. Simultaneously the armed carriers came from Korolyova street. The voice through loud speaker announced «Leave the territory! Otherwise we will fire at you!». People run into the bushes and trees, surrounding television tower. Almost immediately after warning the shout from a machine-guns on personal carriers, spraying the bushes and trees. General Makashov and his eleven men with Kalashnikovs tried to storm Technical Center. The brave and fearless adolescents have succeeded in putting on fire first floor with a Molotov's cocktails. But is was very little what we, people can do against star war soldiers of President. They shot everybody in sight. The Russians they fired in Russians. I was in five wars. I never saw such a massacre. When few years later the «Vitiazes» were send to Chechnya, I was happy. Russians, we are very cruel people, indeed.

#6, April 24 — May 7, 1997

Jews: effective, excellent, talented, anxious, crazy, arrogant, self-lovers, megalomaniacs

The Limonov's X-Files

The world has two extremely opposite opinions about them:

1. The destiny of Jewish tribe is terrible tragedy. It is exceptionally tragical. The Jews are martyrs of History. They are persecuted by non-Jews.

2. The Jews are ruling the world with their enormous accumulations of money. Non-Jews are vampirised by them.

In 1997 prevailing first opinion. In the beginning of 20th Century have had prevailed the second. But what they really are, Jews?

Jews were first strange exotical Oriental minority who have conquered Europe. Not with a sword, but with a strong minority group discipline, with collective will and talent. With a gold, what they gained by collective will and talent.

Hate of Jews. Basically it is hate of successful minority group with a strange religion and bizarre habits. Asiatical tribal collective proved to be much more efficient, than European individualism. Hate of Jews is in fact form of jealousy, they are hated because they are prosperous and bizarre. Fate of Pakistan minority in London is modeled after Jewish fate. Owners of vegetable and groceries stores (numerous family works in it 24 hours per day) «Paks» hated by the white trash of London and by the low-middle class. Financial success of Caucasians (Azeris, Georgians) in Russia made them objects of general hate of Russians. Their tanned skin and passionate arrogance of habitants of south made them visible objects of hate.

Accusation of domination of the entire world. Russian archaical anti-Semite looks like an admirer of Jew. For him the world is subject to a mean, enormous evil, almost God — like figure of a mighty Jew.

Yes, Jews know how to make money. It is a lot of money in Jewish pockets over the world. But they never ever had all the money. In today's world, domination is exercised by many national, social, idealogical and professional groups. Arab oil money, China's communist money, Japanese computer/electronics money, multinational corporations money, narcomoney are as powerful, or even more powerful than Jewish money.

Jewish talents, their «Golden Brains.» There is probably no more number of talented people among the Jews, than among «goyims,» but Jews taught their offsprings how to develop their talents. Jews highly prize education. «The knowledge is might!» is their national slogan. Jewish family force its children to learn.

Jewish mothers are best in world. My Russian mother, when first met my beautiful lover (later my wife) Elena, have said to me: «She is too good for you!» On a contrary, no woman is tood enough for Jewish mother's son. My mother scornfully laughed at my young man's poetry. MOther of my school friend Jew Yuri Kopissarov always blamed the world for his misfortunes. Her «Yurotchka» for her was a spotless. «The Knowledge is might!» have proclaimed hudnreds times per day the Jewish mothers to their offsprings. 97% of Russian Jews emigrated to United States have university diplomas.

Jewish young women are very good in bed. And they have brains, that is as attractive as pussy.

Jewish soldiers. Until beginning of WWII it was generally believed that Jews are nation of merchants and bankers, but lousy soldiers. But in 1948, 1967, in 1973 Jews showed themselves able, determined fighters. Yes, they have super-equipped, rich armies, but they fight for themselves.

Genocide. More terrible in numbers annihiliation in Modern History than Holocaust tragedy have undergone American Indians. Some sources put numbers of Indians killed by European immigrants as high as 18 million. Genocide of Armenians in 1915 by Turks took 1,5 million lives. But only Jews have had an energy to publicize its national tragedy all over the world and make some moral profit of it.

Jewish secret of success. No mystery. «The Knowledge is might!» plus tribal Asian collective always wins against European individualism. As well Sicilian Mafia-highly disciplined tribal minority wins over loose Italian modern democracy.

Natural Racism. Negative trait of Jewish mentality is their self-isolationsim, distance that they put between themselves and others. Natural arrogance is born of the fact that during the fifty centuries they were voluntarily strangers, first in Roman Empire, then in Europe. To succeed, they should stay a strong, homogeneous group. Assimilation, they know that, would weaken them. Jewish megalomania is born out of isolationism. Chosen by God they are. Jewish megalomania is only comparable with megalomania of homosexual tribe (Jews believe Columbus was Jew, homosexuals that Alexander the great was gay, etc.). Some Jews exercising self-love as a masturbator, they are in love with «himself.»

Future of Jews. As a hated group Jews are loosing its importance in the world. They are dethroned in England by Pakistanis and blacks, in Russia by Caucasians, Chechens and Azeris in particular. According to the poll, conducted in Russia by the World Jewish Congress, only 4% of Russian respondents said they dont' want to live on the slame floor with a Jews; comparable with 89% for Chechens, and about 68% for Azeris. Jews are no more actuality.

Nowadays Jews are also undergone modern corrosion. Mixed marriages, mild or even Jewish love climate of the United States and Europe made them soft. Absence of hatred disarms them. One day they will take ordinary place among nations.

#10, June 19 — July 2, 1997

Boris Nemtsov:
Poker-cheating physics whiz makes the big time

The Limonov's X-Files

Sweety, handsome boy of Russian politics, Boris Yefimovitch Nemtsov is at his summit now. First vice-premier of Russia at 38, tall, curly black hair, stylishly dressed at business style suits and ties, he is dynamical, articulated, new type of politician. Russian opinion polls («Ratings») recently showed him as a promising candidate at Presidency of Russia, putting him well ahead of such men as Zyuganov or Lebed.

Boris Yefimovich never was a member of a Communist Party of Soviet Union, that is extreme rarity. He started his life as a student Radio-physicist at University of Gorki, city what was renamed Nizhni-Novgorod. From 1981 he worked as a researcher at Radio-Physical Research Institute of Soviet Academy of Science. He dedicated his P.D. to such a boring subject as «Effects of Interaction Between Moving Sources and Radiation.» As a good progressive boy, from 1986 Nemtsov Participated in activity of city of Gorki. (What else, but «avant-garde» would serve Boris?) Not surprisingly he also was a militant of a local organization «For Nuclear Safety.» So, Boris Naumovitch have had a green peace attitude towards Russian reality, he was a physicist with an ecological profile.

In 1990 young militant physicist was elected to Russian Parliament of Soviet of Russian Federation. In August 1991 president Yeltsin made Nemtsov his representative at Nizhnegoroskaya oblast. At November of the same year Nemtsov was appointed the head of Administration of Nizhnegoroskaya oblast. In close contact with Yavlinski Nemtsov's administration busied itself with a project of regional economical program. City of Nizhni Novgorod became an example, and symbol of reformed Russian economy, show-case of it.

As a big industrial city, Nizhni Novgorod and its region no more success or failure then any other big industrial city of Russia, it is no better of or worse then Ekaterinburg or Saint-Petersburg. But undeniable that young student-like appearance of its governor Boris Naumovitch Nemtsov contributed largely to its wrong glory as a success at economy. When in 1997 governor Nemtsov was promoted to first vice-premier, senseless hopes and esperances were risen high in Russia and abroad. Those are groundless hopes and esperances. Young Nemtsov started his vice-premier's activities with demagogical statements and not with a big ideas. His gesture of changing «Mercedeses» for Russian «Volgas,» attempts to put Russian government officials on the seats of a Russian cars in an example of toothless economical politics of Nemtsov.

So, who is Nemtsov? Good looking mannequin, promoting «reforms»? Young carrierist, arrivist, man who knows how to hook old father Eltsin? (It is known that recently president made to Nemtsov a father's gift of a tennis suit…) For the answer bet us look at his own book Provincial, published in the beginning of 1997. No doubt, in difference from the rest of literary production of Russian politicians, from the volumes of Yeltsin, Lebed or Zuganov, Nemtsov have written his book himself. Provincial is a pretentious book, filled up with a pseudo-philosophical reflections, like such: «HATE. I hate swaggering, arrogance and stupidity. I don't know what to put at first place…» Also, with a pride Nemtsov mentioned at his book that at age of 26 he have invented an «acoustical laser.»

What Nemtsov did not mention, that he also the inventor of «an optical device with a mirrors, that, according to criminal experts, served to read playing cards of adversary.» To know that, one should take a look at unofficial biography of Boris Naumovich, but it is known to happy few. The following details were given to me by known Moscow lawyer Sergei Beliak.

In 1982 in Nizhni Novgorod were arrested close friends of Boris Nemtsov, three brothers Klimentiev. They been accused of buying and showing to the friends the video-cassettes of Western movies, among others «Emmanuele,» «King-Kong,» «One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest.» In court judgment brothers Klimentiev were charged with «anti-Soviet propaganda» and with an «attempt of Fraud,» article 147 of Criminal Code, the later accusation because «an optical device with a mirrors.» The older Klimentiev — Andrei was severely condemned to 8 years of imprisonment. He rested in prison until 1989. All that time Boris Nemtsov was very grateful and attentive to his imprisoned friend, he sent Andrei books and presents. Because Andrei Klimentiev never said that optical device with a mirrors, was an invention of a young physicist — Boris Nemtsov.

In coming out of prison, man of a strong will Andrei Klimentiev become successful businessman. He founded companies «Arocco» and «Russian-Shipping.» He stayed very close to Nemtsov, to the point that both they were witnesses at marriages of each other. New Klimentiev, in his turn helped young deputy of Nizhni Novgorod, giving him Bottle presents, the ties or tennis racket. In 1993 «Russian Shipping» have a project of building of a six 5 thousands tons river-ships at Navashino's ship-yard «OKA.» For realization of project shipyard was in need of «know how» and money. «Know how» was produced by Norwegian partners of Andrei Klimentiev and money…? For money Klimentiev asked to help governor Boris Nemtosv. He was in need of a credit of 30 million dollars to build those six ships. It was an honest business, Hungarian shippers were ready to buy a four ships for 10 million dollars each.

Nemtsov accepted to help. (For his services, it was agreed beforehand, Nemtsov will receive 800 000 dollars). And he helped. In the beginning of 1994 at Gaidar's dacha, five men (Gaidar, Nemtsov, Klimentiev, Fyodorov and Vavilov — latter two respectively minister of Economy and Finance) got agreement on the 30 million dollars state credit to Klimentiev. In reality Klimentiev have received only 18 millions.

In 1995 Nemtsov suddenly played against Klimentiev. He turned triumvirat (Klimentiev, Nemtsov and Kisliakov, director of ship-yard «OKA») at quartet. Fourth man, Boris Brevnov, age only 25 and already head of NBD bank, Commercial bank founded by Brevnov and Nemtsov himself. So, one day Brevnov called Kisliakov: «Congratulations, you have foreign currency account with us.» In this way part of a credit came between Nemtsov's hands, at his bank…

Story is long. To cut it short, Klimentiev was arrested, Nemtsov of course not. After two years spend under arrest, Klimentiev was acquitted on all charges, but one, and set free. As he already spent two years,— exactly the sentence to which he was condemned. His lawyer wants to appeal that condemnation. Two friends Nemtsov and Klimentiev of course are the enemies now. Klimentiev preparing the book where he promised to reveal real life of Boris Nemtsov.

One of the spectacular revelation of Klimentiev, according to his lawyer Beliak is that in 1994 physicist Nemtsov was preparing an attempt upon life of Vladimir Zhirinovski. Zhirinovski supposed to be shot from sniper's rifle during the meeting at Sokolniki, for a price of 500,000 USD. In the last moment the hired killers have refused to fulfill the contract.

What a wonderful brand new leader is Boris Yefimovich Nemtsov!

#11, July 5–16, 1997

Drowned man and the bees

The Limonov's X-Files

Ihave arrived to Moscow from Paris on September 16, 1993. During the last few days before departure I was somehow shocked by the series of unusual ominous events. For the first time of my Parisian life, where I had lived for thirteen years, walking near Notre-Dame cathedral, on the Archbishop's bridge, I saw a drowned corpse. Face was a pale, long black hair, wearing a suit and tie, corpse was slowly moving in Seine's waters.

The very next day I was walking Boulevard Saint-Michel, when I was suddenly attacked by the bees! I was savagely stung three times in my head. To be stung by the wild bees in the middle of totally asphalted and cemented city of Paris in something very very strange, isn't it? I thought that the forces beyond the physical world are giving me the signals. I thought little bit more and decided that supernatural forces are trying to prevent me from going to Moscow. In addition the very last day on rue de Buci I was literally covered with a droppings of a pigeons. However, that last event was a rather good omen. All message could be read as such: «Something terrible will happen in Moscow. You better to stay in Paris, but if you will go, you personally will survive.» I left Paris for Moscow.

I told about those supernatural events to my Moscow's friends (my editor Alexander Shatalov and journalist Yaroslav Mogutin among them) on my first evening in Moscow. I have expressed my amusement and anxiety. Especially I was alarmed by the bees, because chance to be stung by them in Paris is one in million. Friends didn't say I am crazy, but they looked at each other in a special way.

When, on September 21, President Yeltsin went on television with his abolishment of Parliament speech and the bloody days of short civil war (September, 21 — October, 4) followed, I wasn't surprised. As I was absolutely sure of my super-natural abilities. Lying on Ostankino's asphalt under heavy machine-guns fire I thought about bees and drowned man and pigeons' dropping.

I have had psychic's abilities as I remember myself. I never tried to develop them. I have chosen physical world as my field of battle, but I know and I remember few dozens of examples of my «illuminations» as I call them.

Summer 1980, Paris. In my dream I see the cracking ochre, red walls of the Southern city. Earth is moving, rising, parting and in its abysses, with a terrible screams are falling hundreds of people. I have lived then in my first Parisian apartment on rue des Archives. I was awakened by telephone ringing. That was my ex-wife Yelena, calling from Naples in Italy. «Ed, we have terrible earthquake here. Five thousands are dead! The walls cracking…» «Stop!» said I. «I will tell you what is going on in Naples.» And I narrated to her my dream. «You saw all it on television,» said she. «I have no television here,» said I. Late in the evening I saw my dream again, in apartment of friend of mine, on television. I have explained my vision of earthquake in Naples in following way. In spring time in Paris we started, Yelena and I, a new romance, new love story. When she left Paris, very naturally all my energetic and spiritual forces were mobilized on the catch of her signals from Italy. Normally, she lived in Rome, but for the summer she went to Naples.

More recent example. My ex-wife Natasha was savagely attacked by «unknown man» in the night on March, 30, 1992 in Parisian night-club «Balalaika,» where she sang. She was stabbed six times in her face with a screw-driver. Her left hand was broken twice. Shortly before that horrible event I was howling at night. I will quote from my book «Sentinel's assassination»: «In the night from March 25, on March 26 I have seen in my dream The DEVIL, which I erased (almost erased, but with what means, the dream didn't explained), only his chalked head remained on the wall. But in replay he had splashed me with a 'fiery water' and I screamed terribly. Then Natasha awakened my and have risen to smoke a cigarette, frightened. As a man who is very far from mysticism, I was extremely horrified by this dream. I was absolutely sure, that big disaster is going to happen soon.»

One more example. New York. Summer 1979. I am anxiously awaiting arrival of the proofs of my book of poetry «Russkoye.» I was 36 years of age but it was going to be my first book published. I was in terribly need of that book, as a proof of my fitness in life, the evidence that I am not a loser. However my editors «Ardis Press» in Michigan were not in a hurry. Months have passed in waiting. Overtense, once I had a dream. I saw fat black man carrying long package. The dream didn't said that it was my book, but I knew that inside of package were the proofs of my book. I opened my eyes and directly from my bed looked from the window. (My bedroom was so tiny that my feet were almost touching the window.) I lived then on the corner of 83rd street and of First Avenue. I saw far away on the street mail-track. Black fat man closed the door of a truck, and started to move across the street. He was carrying a long package.

I put my jeans on and ran, barefooted, downstairs. I met a black mailman on the staircase of a second floor. Without a word, I put my hands on the package. «What the matter?!» screamed black man. «That is for me!» shouted I. «Savenko, apartment 4-B!» He took a look at address and gave long package to me, thinking, I suppose, that I am sick man. Why the package was long? «Ardis» publishers have cut proofs per three pages in length, I suppose «Ardis» publishers were lazy to cut every page separately.

#12, July 17–30, 1997

Elections in the hot district

The Limonov's X-Files

Georgievski electoral district number 52 is a huge chunk of a hot land in Southern Russia, size of Belgium and Holland together. Land is flat, steppe and half-desert. Dry, hot weather. Very hot summer at eastern edge of desert around town of Neftekumsk, less hot summer influenced by the nearest Caucuses Mountains in the Cossack's town of Georgievsk, founded in 1777. The second largest town by population in district is Budyonnovsk, tragically famous for savage attack on it by Shamail Basayev and his band. To the south, electoral district 52 borders Chechen Republic, Republic of North Ossetia, Kabardino-Balkars Republic. On the east it borders Republic of Dagestan, on the north, Kalmykia. In another words it is very dangerous place to live.

I was a candidate for a place of a deputy in the State Duma, one of seventeen competing for it. With a team of about ten members of a National-Bolshevik's Party, I tried to communicate to dry, rigid, archaic minds and souls of population of 52 district.

Previous deputy for Georgievski district was 65 year old redneck named Manzhosov. He was chairman of kolkhoz (collective farm) and member of Communist Party of Russian Federation, that of Zyuganov. He have died of natural death, and my «nazbol» (short of «National-Bolshevik») boys from Georgievsk started to collect a signatures for my nomination as a candidate. When «nazbol» boys have collected more than three thousands of signatures, they called me in Moscow. I have had stupidity to accept. Only when district's electoral commission finally have published a colorful poster with candidates photos, became tragically clear and obvious that only I have a human face. They have all their vices on their chunks of meat: gluttony, treachery, brutality, even on schizophrenic and one suspected pedophile were among them.

That was Aschot Stepanian, militia officer in charge of teenage crime in Georgievsk. Wearing a white suit he cruised district in his fast BMW. Ironically, his young nephew was convicted for a two rape-murders (he raped then killed girl with brick, smashed her head). Nevertheless, Stepanian made a head cause of his electoral campaign struggle against teenage crime. I heard vague rumors that Stepanian is pedophile.

There was also Mr.Pozdniakov, the chief farmer of a district. Suspiciously rich man of 28 years old. Malicious tongues said he enriched himself and his relatives, because as a chairman of Association of Farmers he was responsible for the distribution of state credits to the farmers. In order to please youngsters of Georgievsk he funded a disco every Saturday night in the central place of Georgievsk.

Another competitor was Mr.Bryukhanov, the only «quality» of him that he is married to a neice of Zhirinovsky himself. On September 12, Zhirik arrived to Georgievsk and Budyonnovsk and talked to electoral masses. He said, «One mad writer, Limonov, wants to be your deputy, but he is dangerously mad, that man, his place in a mad-house…»

Mr.Burlakov and Mr.Snekov both were elected to the State Duma in 1993 on the list of Zhirinovsky's Liberal Democratic Party, but both very soon have betrayed Zhirik and left his party in Duma. They both lost 1995 elections. Mr.Burlakov, bald, Fantomas-like head, functionary of a Ministry for Nationalities, strangely enough was a nominated from Barkashov's party Russian National Unity [a neo-Nazi right-wing party — Ed.]. Burlakov advocated very archaic, racist nationalism, tried to please such conservative groups as Cossacks or militiamen. Mr.Snekov, gray-haired old man, proved to be a sick schizophrenic. In his leaflet he printed «Asbuka» (alphabet), a senseless collection of mad sentences. He claimed Peter the Great destroyed Russia because he introduced modern calendar, so he preached return to the old Russian chronology, starting from the day of Creation.

That was above all militia Colonel Mr.Lyashenko. Present on television, on radio waves, on street walls. Some of his political advertising was a motto, saying, «I have already have beaten Chechen wolf in his teeths.» As a matter of fact Colonel Lyashenko was a chief of militia in Budyannovsk during Basayev's attack. 150 Russians were killed, 17 of them militiamen. Mr.Lyashenko was fired, went to court to challenge, and two years later was reinstated as chief of police of Budyannovsk. Impudent liar Mr.Lyashenko issued photograph of himself, wearing camouflage, looking dull, with a words: «The power in the mighty hands!» Rumors in Budyannovsk were revealing that before Basayev's attack Lyashenko forced some Chechen businessman to exchange his luxurious apartment for a Lyashenko's wooden house. Lyashenko was nominated from a Congress of Russian Communities. Chairman of that organization Mr.Rogozin helped Colonel Lyashenko in his campaign, they toured together Georgievski district. On September 13, four militiamen of Budyannovsk have attacked a house where lived members of my electoral team Irena Tabatskova and Nikolai Tiagli. Both were savagely beaten and transported to the militia station where they were beaten all night. That savage story is now under investigation of a public prosecutor. During the beating militiamen called Mr.Lyashenko.

All these monsters, and me also, we have lost. To the invincible man, who stayed out of campaign, to the twin-brother of deceased Manzhosov, the redneck Mr.Mescherin, also chairman of kolkhoz and also member of a Communist Party of Russian Federation. What else! Only 30% of electorate expressed his will. 60 thousand voters have chosen Mr.Mescherin. Voters proved to be old, very old, very unconscious old vegetables. My nazbol boys counted only from one to five young voters on each of 309 polling stations. Old sick people have chosen a party of their happy past.

When I just arrived at Georgievsk in the beginning of August I saw the strange burial procession of mafia men (all wearing black pants and black silk shirts). About one hundred of them surrounded by their women hastily transported the coffin to the cemetery. «Bratok,» killed by Armenian mafia had a name Edik (Edward). When on September 15 we have left for a Georgievsk train station to go to Moscow, another «bratok» (mafia-man) was killed by Armenians. His family name was Ivanov.

#18, September 25 — October 8, 1997

A few smarmy banker stories

The Limonov's X-Files

About six months ago, office of my party (National-Bolsheviks Party) have received a phony call from the «Russian credit» bank. Young and rather excited voice demanded a help in finding latest Edward Limonov's book, in occurance photo-album «Limonov in photos» (his parents, his wars, his wifes). Surprized, but cool, my boys have taken his telephone number in the bank and corresponded it to me.

I have called that individule in a few days. Out of curiosity. Mr.Gratchev was happy to hear from me and said that he was hunting for my photo-album for monthes. As a matter of fact, he said, that book of mine intended to unlarge the complete collection of my books of his boss, president of «Russian Credit» Bank Mr.Malkin. «How much it will cost for us?» asked Mr.Gratchev. I said it going to be 90,000 rubles for everybody, for the banker, as well as for the worker. Only three hundred copies have been printed, so it's expensive, sorry. Than I asked if I can meet his boss and give my book to him myself. Never before I met a president of a Russian bank, it gonna be interesting experience. Mr.Gratchev said that it is exciting idea, he should contact his boss and ask him.

When he called my back he said that his boss is absent, but he wanted badly to have my photo-album on Friday, so the best idea will be to give it to him, to Mr.Gratchev, and he will talk to the boss to set up the meeting later. I said «OK», we get agree that one of my boys will bring album in to the bank. I wrote «To the banker from revolutionary. It will be interesting to meet,» added my phone-number and send album with my boy to «Russian Credit».

Then nothing happened. Great admirer and collector of my work never called my. So, I don't know how the Russian bankers are. Later I saw him on television, my banker. He had broken nose and looked like a friend of mine Yuri Brokhin, writer and criminal, executed at 1982 in New York, by a bullet behind his right bar. Brokhin belonged to the very first generation of a Russian mafia, settled in New York city.

Once I made an experience. I wrote an appeal to the bankers to help our Party and with my staff we have sent it to about a 200 banks. First we intended to send it to more then one thouzand banks, but as only one bank of two hundred called us back, we stopped experience. Only one bank reacted on my name and excused itself, with a promise to help us some day. Sure, we don't expected them to attack us with a business propositions, but I thought may be a dozen of them will feel interested by an exotical party of Limonov. No, they are square as a track-drivers, they have no imagination.

Recently, old friend of mine, photographer and director of a model agency called my after a long time of absence. I know him from 1972. I met him in Moscow, then I was friendly with him in New York, Paris and now Moscow again. Director-photographer narrated to me his personal story. Rather sand and silly story. It is about the banker. His name is very impressive: Berezovski.

My director-photographer always traded in models: he have shipped models from New York to Paris, later in Moscow he shipped Russian girls to Paris. He also shipped some of them to a Russian and foreign businessman. Of course, only if that particular girl was willing to spend an evening with a male. Once, he found himslef with an order for two girls: to be present to decorate a meeting between two very important businessman. It was a summer, the order came late in the evening, so he couldn't gind an available girl. Only available was his own girl-friend, four monthes pregnant. As director-photographer have placed in his apartment guest of honor,— his own father, his girl-friend temporary lived with her parents.

Slave trader called to his girl-friend and sended her to restorante where two VIP-businessmen were about to dine. Pregnant girl-friend have taken with here another girl, non-pregnant.

Few days later friend of mine met his girl-friend and was surprised to find her wearing an expensive «Cartier» bracelet. Asked, where did she get it, girld said that it is a gift from the businessman whome she entertained the otehr evening. She said that was Mr.Beresovski. That other evening he dined with Mr.Gusinski.

«Jesus!» exclaimed friend of mine when narrating to me that story: «I asked her: Tania, is he carring «Cartier» bracelets with him in his pockets? «No,» she said, I met him once more. Don't worry, I don't sleep with him. He likes to talk. Than, Edward, she disappeared. I called her at her parents apartment. They say, she is in a hospital. But, they say, they don't know where exctly. Jesus, Edward, she made an abortion, she later said it was miscarriage… She said she don't love me, she is in love with a Beresovski. She said he rented an apartment for her, she lives in that apartment and he comes from time to time.» Friend of mine was silent for a moment. «Latest news from her? She called and asked to see me. She said she lives good live: he gives her plenty of money, he payed her expenses… «He is known as a faithfull man to his girls, Edward. But she starts to be little bit bored with her good life…»

Russian Bankers… I don't know them. Those stories are not proving that Russian bankers are bad boys. They are pieces of information about banekrs. And those pieces prove that bankers as cowarrd and as silly as anybody. On the contrary making money on selling and buying and borrowing monthly in the country, majority of population of which is poor and underfed, is pure crime. What they deserve, Russian bankers is nine grams of lead behind the ear.

#19, October 9–22, 1997

I wanna Julie, goodbye Natashas

The Limonov's X-Files

When I was in my early twenties, the wife of a friend and occasionally my lover, beautiful Natasha (hair was color of honey, red full lips, very white skin) once said to me: «Never go to bed with a coarse woman, Eddie, you are tender and romantic. Promise that you will never fuck with a rough woman!» Then, I was offended by «tender and romantic,» because I wanted to be a tough real man, but Natasha understood me better than myself. Following thirty years I rarely slept with a coarse women, and when it happened, they repel me by their cow-like nature, by abundance of butts and tits. And today I cannot sleep with a coarse woman. They are repulsive creatures to me. I am forever charmed by girls with a skinny legs, with a whitish little behinds.

Then in 1992 I left Paris and settled in my old country after almost twenty years of absence. Later I have separated from my last wife and have discovered Russian women again. I found them in much worst situation than they were twenty years ago. I discovered that Russian women have a sick mentality of a harem girl, sick mentality of a kept woman. If Western women are crazies about their newly found independence and sick with their independence, Russian women are crazies with their dependence on man. They are full of hate towards the man, their master, provider and lover. They need a man badly, much more than Western women, and that is precisely why they hate him. I have discovered that hate of a man is widespread malady amongst Russian females, women and girls alike, hell for me!

No doubt, Russian women are very good in bed, emotionally very rich, although Jewish women can match or even beat them in love-making. But no woman on earth is as amoral and bitchy as Russians are. The word «moral» is not known to them. Psychologically they never ever left that tender age under six years, when child behavior is perfectly egotistical, and they don't count the interests of others. «I don't want to do it, so I will not do it,» or, «I want to do it, so I will do it,» no matter what the consequences for my partner/lover — these are patterns of behavior of Russian woman. Russian females are perfect for one night stand, for a short love affair, but don't count on them for a stable love. Unpleasant truth about them that all Russian females, coarse women and tender girls alike, are amoral. «I want» or «I don't want» — these are only categories they operate with. They live under tyranny of desire themselves and they force you to accept it also. They don't know how to deal with a man out of bed, because themselves they have only one dimension, that of emotional world of desire. They are tragically short of moral, cultural, intellectual or historical dimensions. They are crippled to life. Sure, most of them are heading to the banal tragedy in their lives. Towards the age of 35 their looks are gone, they drink too much, they overweight as they eat too much, they are not attractive any more to the man, so they excluded even from their only one emotional world of desire. They are technically dead.

According to the doctors' sexologists average sexual desire is lasting up to two years. I don't believe it, because I have made love to my wife singer Natasha Medvedeva during 12 years with a rising intense pleasure. But I am untypical, nonordinary crazy artist with an extraordinary imagination. And Natasha was nymphomaniac. Average Russian woman will love you up to two years, at best. Then, she will fool around. Or she will start to fool around from the very first week, but will keep relationships for her emotions ask for promiscuity. Needless to blame her, she is formed like that.

For now, bearing fresh wounds from my latest love affair with a Russian girl, I dream about an American girl. I am sick and tired of Russian women and girls dark souls, of their treacherous natures. I want to have a reliable, comfortable lover, but also partner, great friend and fellow combatant on the front-line of life. No, I didn't change my preference for girls over women, as ever I dislike big butts and tits, but I want non-Russian female. Of course, only insane creature would tie its destiny with a chairman of a radical National-Bolshevik's Party, but I want that insane creature to be an American girl.

From my experience of life in the United States, I know that American girls are stable, they are better, more generous, more open, more honest, less incline to cheat on you, they are better friends and partners. I am sick to function only as a lover and nothing else, only fucking human machine. Finally I realize that I wanna Julie, my Julie again. Or rather young version of Julie, my American girlfriend, I have had love affair with her in 1977–78 in New York. Oldest daughter of FBI agent from Virginia, from a family with seven kids. Julie was 22 when we met. I was a foreigner twelve years older than she, I barely spoke English, that simple tall, attractive girl loved me for God knows what qualities. O, Julie, sorry that I didn't appreciate then your love, now I understand that courageous, bold, street-wise you were a treasure. Real frontier girl from a cowboy's movies. I wanna Julie, goodbye Natashas.

#20, October 23 — November 5, 1997

George Soros: rip-off artist triumphs in Russia

The Limonov's X-Files

George Soros's Foundation festivities which celebrated its ten years of inplantation in Russia were posh. They were pompous and grandiose. The son of Hungarian Jew started on October 7th, with a gala reception at Kolonny Zal Doma Soyuzov (that Soviet sort of Gauleiter's Palace) went through seven Russian cities (Moscow, St.Petersburg, Novgorod, Yekaterinburg, Novosibirsk, Kazan, Nizhni Novgorod) and culminated on October 20 in Moscow at Interfax press center with a final press conference. Among the media events during Soros's ass-licking ceremonies was a press conference on the delivery of gratitude to Mr.Soros from the legislative assembly of the Leningrad's Region, or, for example, «Mr.Soros and Governor Prussak's joint press conference for the local media» in Novgorod. Or else, «Mr.Soros's meeting with the president of the Tatar Republic, Mr.Shaimiyev.»

National-Bolshevik's Party (I have an honor to be a chairman of NBP) actively participated in Mr.Soros's celebration. In Moscow, St.Petersburg and Kazan we succeeded in spoiling some of the events of Soros's triumph. Party's demonstration against Soros lecture at Mariinsky Palace in St.Petersburg were disrupted by militsia forces. Three party comrades were arrested. Placards with slogans such as «Liberals — to the wall!» or «Soros — to prison!» or «Soros — go home!» were confiscated. The very next day judge Schischkin of Admiralteisky district of people's court pronounced verdict: according to article 166, point 1 of Penal Code (Organization of mass demonstration without permission), two of our comrades were fined each 300,000 rubles, and Mr. Andrei Grebnev convicted to spend a 24 hours in jail.

In Kazan, opening by Soros of Internet festival «Open Skies» was completely disrupted by a bomb threat, of unknown man, received by telephone. At Kazan's University National-Bolshevik's students made a speech of Mr.Soros inaudible by coughing, hissing, sneezing and cursing. Later, an effigy of Soros was thrown under the wheels of a tramway.

In Moscow, me and NBP ideologue Alexander Dugin went to the public discussion at conference hall of Tretyakovsky's Gallery, hoping to participate in open debate. Administration was terrified by our arrival. Hands of Mr. Alexander Auzan, chief organizer, were shaking when he handed me his business card.

It turns out no debate whatsoever. Simply forty-six persons were for more than three hours engaged in shameless flattery and ass-liking process. With only two exceptions: Alexander Dugin and me, we went against the current. Most of speakers anyway were recipients of Soros stipends, or else members of Soros's organizaions in Russia… in other words-dependants of Soros for their living.

Despite the big money involved, Soros's Russians proved to be Russians: the discussion at the Tretyakovsky Gallery was terribly organized. Even microphones have functioned badly. But what surprised me even more was the fact that followers of Soros's religion of «Open Society» all asked for ear phones to be able to hear translation when Mr.Soros himself started to speak. The «Open Society» follower should for the beginning at least to learn English, no? When Dugin went to the microphone, Mr.Soros suddenly awakened from sort of lethargic state where he was plunged during syrupy praising of Mr.Soros. He smiled, he grimaced, he looked happy and agitated. Dugin said that conception of Open Society is hostile to Russian nation, to Russian state and to Russian traditional values. That in the past ten years exactly George Soros's ideological projects and financial backing were behind most terrible catastrophes of Russian history. That pupils of George Soros in Russia — Alexander Yakovlev, Yegor Gaidar, Anatoly Chubais — are personally responsible for the destruction of USSR and for great rip-off of privatization.

Old dead man was visibly happy to hear those accusations. Probably they sounded for Soros as a list of conquered enemies' cities and towns.

When I went to microphone the hiss of indignation filled the conference hall. As I am hearing the speakers,» I said, «I understand that only I and Alexander Dugin in whole crowd are not employees of Mr.Soros, not receiving money from him.» (That was happy laughing of crowd around me.) «You should know, Mister Soros, that those people are after your money, not after your open society.» Soros was really having fun! He was smiling and looking at me with pleasure. [During forty or so minutes that went after Alexander Dugin's speech, old Soros was plunged again in lethargic state. Hearing my name announced, he literally jumped from the depths of his arm-chair, he looked at me as to his beloved child.] «You, Mister Soros, brainwash our children with a help of schoolbooks, made by you. You are buying our scientists with your money. It is impossible to imagine that the United States government will allow Russian crazy multimillionare to feed American children his textbooks, or to buy American scientists in Palo Alto. Russian Soros in the States will end in American jail or at least thrown out from the United States. I demand from my government to refuse you a visa next time. Go home Mister Soros!»

Oh, how he was happy! He was deliriously happy and drunk of my speech. According to his own memoirs and interviews, from his early childhood Mr.Soros was obsessed with a messianic fantasies. Now he was in heart of Moscow, in conference hall of a national treasure — Tretyakovsky Gallery — face-to-face with his enemies, with a people of biblical Rosch land (look at «Scofield Reference Bible,» it says that Russia is «biblical Rosch land,» that is menacing the world with an insurrection of Gog's and Magog's peoples.) I understood suddenly why organizers asked for delay «for consultations» when Dugin and Limonov called for an admission tickets and possibility to participate in discussion. The organizers asked permission of Mr.Soros. And he happily said, «Yes!» Because he badly needed to fulfill his childhood fantasies. Now, Dugin presented for him people of Gog, Limonov those of Magog, and here he was-mighty crusader victorious over dark forces of Evil. He badly needed us.

#21, November 6–19, 1997


The Limonov's X-Files

Periodically, every year or so, Moscow is convulsed by a witch hunting. Witches are played willingly by a few folkloric persons in thirst for vanity, like a «fascist» Vedenkin, surfaced on television in 1995. Hunters are professional «anti-fascists» as they call themselves. In 1995 «anti-fascist» No.1 of Russia was a chief of State Committee for Press and Information Mr.Grisunov. Today's most notorious anti-fascist is a deputy of Moscow's city Duma, Mr.Proschechkin. If witches see to satisfy only its vanity, hunters pursuing more vulgar goals — they make a good living out of their «anti-fascism.» Witch hunting activity profitably distinguish themselves from other rather gray competitors for the offices of deputies and government officials. They, in addition, receive grants and money from abroad, awarded for their «defense of democracy.» For example, high volume «Political Extremism in Russia,» produced by Verkhovsky, Papp and Pribilovsky, was created on money of American National Endowment for Democracy. The general manager of project was Freedom House. So, American money help to create fascist menace in Russia. Me, and my party comrade Alexander Dugin, philosopher, have a pleasure to be listed amongst sixty-four extremists, our detailed biographies included, cited by that McCarthyist style book. But among the extremists of Mother Russia one can find such persons as a governor of Kurskaya Oblast, Mr.Rutskoi, head of Liberal Democratic Party Mr.Zhirinovsky (irony of sort, as his party in parliament for all those years unanimously voted in support 100% of government laws). Bulk of a crowd listed as extremist consist, however, of caricatures such as Mr.Vedenkin, or Mr.Barkashov, whose organization «Russian National Unity» pose for TV cameras to frighten citizens with its uniforms of operetta's fascists for many years now, but shows zero of political activity. I know well all the «willing witches» «extremists» from 1992, my political activities obliged me to. My diagnosis is: they are handful, they are vain, harmless, photogenic, coquettish and good for nothing. With only three exceptions: Victor Anpilov's organization «Working Russia,» Stanislav Terekhov's organization «Union of Officers» and Edward Limonov's organization «National-Bolshevik's Party.»

On October 2, 1997, we, above-mentioned, have had united our political forces and announced creation of an Electoral Bloc of Radicals, having for a goal 1999's elections to a State Duma. Surprise, but only few days after was announced creation of Presidential Committee for Struggle Against Political Extremism with a Mr.Stepashin (the former head of the FSB) at its head, and including such members as Mr.Laptev, head of a State Committee for Press and Information, Mr.Kovalev, head of Federal Service of Security. Noticeable is difference between anti-extremists campaigns of the past. This time it is a State itself who is witch-hunting.

On October 16, and October 23, apartments of two ex-members of National-Bolshevik's Party were searched and consequently both men been arrested on charges of possession of the weapons. Also, on October 23, poet Alina Vituhkovskaya, close to National-Bolshevik's Party, was taken under arrest during her trial for alleged pushing of drugs. Now she is in Women's Prison Number Six of Moscow. Obvious is desire to find a motivation for a repression against my party. On October 31, Ministry of Justice have summoned representatives of parties and movements to announce them their obligation to re-register their organizations. State Duma also contributed to the campaign of repression against us Radicals — their political rivals. Beginning October, Duma voted unanimously for a new law proposed by President: that only political organizations will from now have right to participate in elections. Confusing, however, is that law: no definition of political organization is available.

If sporadic anti-extremist campaigns of the past have had a goal to frighten public, to create non-existent fascist menace, do «democracy» in Russia will appear to be only one force who is able to stop those monstrous fascists. New mighty Committee was created with a different purpose: to stop radicals from entering Duma. In context of a growing disappointment of communist electorate with behavior of Zyuganov's Duma faction of Communist Party of Russian Federation (KPRF), we, radicals, have strong hopes to charm their electorate. Even if we will succeed partly, Radical Bloc will receive well over five percent of votes. In 1995's elections Anpilov alone almost acquired that goal — he harvested 4.86%. Today's political situation is much more profitable for Radicals. Disgusted by cowardice of Zyuganov's party, by KPRF's deputies refusal to vote against government, disgusted by vulgar show of President Yeltsin delivering a medal to KPRF's speaker Mr.Seleznyov, radical party of communist's electorate will vote for a Bloc Anpilov/Terekhov/Limonov. That is precisely the reason why Committee Against Extremism was hastily created. That is why arrests, re-registration, restriction laws are hastily employed in order to stop us.

Is National-Bolshevik's Party an extremist party? National-Bolshevik's Party is political organization of a nation which has 27 million of compatriots been taken away by hostile neighboring countries, created as a result of destruction of Soviet Union. So we, National-Bolsheviks, for the union of all Russians in one State. German nation reunification in 1990 was saluted by the whole world as a positive event. Why similar demand of Russian party should be called extremist? Russia's territories such as Crimea and North Kazakhstan, populated overwhelmingly by majority of Russians, were sliced away from it. National-Bolsheviks Party were sliced demanding that Crimea and Northern Kazakhstan should be returned to Russia. George Washington and his boys were much more extremists in their time of a young American state. Russia is a young state today, born in 1991. Why we National-Bolsheviks should be called extremists, if England fought a bloody Falkland Island's War in 1982 for a few rocks in the ocean many thousands miles away? What is permitted to England is not permitted to Russia? National-Bolshevik's Party is for installment of anti-abortion law, for the creation of kind of sheriff's institution in Russia, in order to beat criminality. So, why we are called extremist? Because IT IS POLITICALLY PROFITABLE FOR OUR POLITICAL RIVALS AND FOR THE FOREIGN POWERS.

#22, November 20 — December 3, 1997

A tale of two clowns

The Limonov's X-Files

In November 1995 I was invited to presentation of Mr.Ryzhkov's book, «Ten Years of Turmoil,» at hotel «Radisson Slavyanskaya.» Ryzhkov was very last Soviet Union's Prime Minister, then later general director of Tveruniversalbank. He invited to his party all the flowers of nomenklatura, «Gekachepisti» (the failed August 1991 putschists) among them. I went there with my girlfriend Lisa, we just met week before. I wanted to impress her.

And I have indeed impressed her. Ex-KGB chief Krutchkov spoked quietly in a corner of restaurant with secretary of KPSS, fantoms-looking Mister Shein. General Varennikov talked to Mr.Poloskov. But the most impressive couple in the crowd were undoubtedly Marshal Yazov, ex-minister of Defense, and clown Yuri Nikulin. They been seating backs to the wall, looking at restaurant, drinking vodka, an old waiter serving them in dignified old Soviet style. I grabbed fat deputy of Duma Mr.Baburin as he was passing by. I asked, «Sergei, do me a favor. Introduce me, please, to Marshal Yazov, would you? I want to impress my girlfriend…»

Pengiun-looking Baburin walked me and Lisa to the table of two old-timers. From a close distance two Soviet legends were awfully-looking creatures. The forehead of Nikulin near his right eye was covered with a bluish spot, sort of spots that appear on corpses of a dead. Spot was large and spider-shaped. During his actor's career, Mr.Nikulin created dozens of an alcoholics characters. Now himself he was looking exactly as an old alcoholic. Marshal Yazov displayed large, hairy ears. Both have had a greenish, sinister-colored faces of a Halloween's clowns.

We muttered few words of presentation. We sat down in front of two sacred monsters, our backs turned to a restaurant. Lisa, fresh, elegant creature of 23 was a pleasure to look at, so old monsters smiled and drinked to her health. We stayed for about an hour at their table. I observed them and I went to conclusion that Marshal and clown were interchangeable. Yazov with his large hairy ears and dense hairy brows could be a clown-actor playing an alcoholic. Nikulin, for his part, could easily transformed into Minister of Defense, just something should be done with a bluish spider-shaped spot on his forehead. It could be covered with a powder.

Mr.Nikulin have died last summer. His funeral was attended by President Yeltsin himself. In a last years of his life Mr.Nikulin was surrounded with an attention and enormous respect, in drastic disproportion with a size and character of his small talent. But unheroical types that he played, all the losers, failures, alcoholics went to the forefront of Russian life and history, as Soviet heroes of a war and work, Matrosov'' and Stakhanov'' disappeared, somewhere in the 1970s.

Marshal Yazov did not succeed because of Mr.Nikulin's characters. «Gekachepistes» failed in August 1991 because Soviet social scene was populated by personages of Mr.Nikulin. It is clear to me now. Then, three years ago, I was looking at two old clowns, I listened to their quiet talk. Fat hippopotamus of woman singer was singing from a podium something folkish. Tall Ryzhkov kissed fat hippopotamus of singer. Mr.Kryuchkov, Gorbachev's chief of KGB, went to our table, horn-rimmed glasses, bald head. He stayed for a moment with us, trinked his glass to glasses of Nikulin and Yazov. «Whole country has been laughing at your comical heroes,» flattered Kryuchkov to Nikulin. «Sure,» I thought,» Nikulin made a small man, loser and failure, attractive. And that is exactly why «Gekachepists,» you sirs, have failed. Soviet heroic man been destroyed, it was no Soviet men anymore in Russia in August 1991. Only anti-heroes of Nikulin been available. I asked waiter to bring me champagne and we drinked with Lisa to our unknown future. Waiter, he said, have read all my books, so he brought me a good champagne. Two old clowns have left shortly before.

#23, December 4–17, 1997

Bloody bastards

The Limonov's X-Files

It is instructive, probably, to live long life, as one can traverse the History and to compare different historical epochs, political and social customs in order to learn wisdom. But wisdom received in that way is disappointing: the nations and the governments having as it suits them, have no moral values at all!

When I lived in the United States in 1975–1980, everyone who managed to leave Soviet Union was welcomed and considered as a victim of Soviet regime. Most of emigrants were Russian Jews, who officially left for their historical homeland — Israel — but, biggest part of them arrived to US, attracted by its economical prosperity and market possibility. Nevertheless, obvious opportunists as they were, those emigrants were welcomed in the United States, were given status of «refugees.» Everybody cynically exploited USA. Amongst emigrants was popular sentence of ardent dissident Vladimir Bukovsky, written in letter to Moscow friend: «If you wish to succeed in the United States, you should arrange to get yourself arrested in the Soviet Union. Three years in a Soviet camp and you will have no problems in USA.»

Earlier «refugees,» first few thousands of them have received good jobs in universities and went in masses to work for American propaganda machine. Entire staff of emigrant newspapers and that of Radio Liberty was exchanged the old monsters of second wave emigration (after the war) were throwed away. New blood proved to be more caustic. Psychological cold war was winned, yes, by American money, but by generals Solzhenitsyn, Sinyavsky, Galitch, Maskimov, Brodsky, Bukovsky and by the thousands of soldiers of lesser grade, all mercenaries, imported from Russia.

Quarter of century have passed. Today one can observe absolutely inversed situation. In order to please so-called «democratical» regime of President Yeltsin, US government does for him even the dirty job of arresting Russians on its own territory (arrest and severe judgement of Yaponchik, recent arrest in Miami of Alexander Taratsov, director of «Russkoye Zoloto»). Every enemy of President Yeltsin is an enemy of the United States. American government close the eyes on monstrous corruption of Yeltsin's ministers, doesn't give a fuck about human rights of tens of millions poor, created by dissolution of Soviet Union. Even George Soros (of course for his own purpose) is talking now about criminal capitalism in Russia, but not US government. In its own country, however, such a blatant rape of majority by criminal minority is inadmissable, and choking. US domestic capitalism have more mild (at least on surface) manners, and at least one healthy principle: the very worst American is preferable to its government than the best foreigner.

What is behind of abnormal indulgence of official US towards cold blooded thieves of criminal Russian capitalism? Puritanical faith in messianic principles of democracy, democracy at any price, even by cannibal price of many hundreds of thousands of lives of ordinary citizens killed in inter-ethnical conflicts, even by a price of millions of refugees? Or else calculated diabolical plan to demolish biggest enemy — Russia? Demolish it to the last stone, as Rome have had destroyed Carthage? I guess that combination of both is at work: faith in supposedly universal values of democracy and calculated plans of destroying my country.

Meanwhile, demolished, shrinked Russia is governed by the same social elite as Soviet Union, and its officials as violent and brutal as ever. Ever more violent and brutal. Only attitude of the West towards them changed. Instructive is to compare reaction of a foreign public opinion towards two trials of two poets, occurred on Russian soil with a 30 years of distance. That of Brodsky's trial in 1964 and Alina Vitukhnovskaya's trial in 1994–97. Brodsky was judged for non-working («parasitism,» or «tuneyadtsvo»). Process resulted in eXile sentence of young poet. He was moved to 101st kilometer from Leningrad, where he worked freely in sovkhoz (frequently receiving visiting friends) during six months. Called «crime» of Soviet regime, process rouse indignation of world public opinion, made him cause celebre, gave Brodsky world fame, he was met with a triumph when emigrated to US in 1972, brought him finally to the summit of literary fame to a Nobel Prize.

Poet Alina Vitukhnovskaya was arrested in October 1994 at age of 20 by ten men of FSB (Federal Service of Security, heir to KGB) allegedly for possession and selling drugs on sum 7 US dollars. Following search in her apartment gave miserable result, for about 1,630 grams of chemical substances. Nevertheless she was thrown to the most horrible of Moscow's prisons to Butirka, and spend there more than one year awaiting her trial, before Russian writers, even they revolted by injustice (PEN center, A.Vosnesensky, etc.) succeeded to get her from prison. But in October 1997 her case was reopened. She was arrested again, now she is held in Six Women's Prison of Moscow. Most likely reopening of her trial is due to the wounded pride of FSB men, who hoped for big catch, who listened to her phone conversations before her arrest, who probably lured her to a trap with a help of two confessed drug addicts-now witnesses of accusation-one of them arrested before Vitukhnovskaya.

Most of literary critics agree that Vitukhnovskaya most talented poet of her generation. She, unlike Brodsky in 1964, is an author of many published books. She is young girl of rather fragile health spending her second year in prison, although not sentenced yet? Isn't it a revolting story of violation of human rights? So, what then of the Western defenders of human rights? No reaction at all, because Empire of Yeltsin cannot be accused of violation of human rights. I am certain that one word of Bill Clinton would be enough to get Vitukhnovskaya from prison. But he will never do it. He doesn't want to offend his friend Boris, ex-member of Central Committee of KPSS, the very bastion of democracy in Russia. Bloody bastards! And freedom — devoted Western press? The only journalists present at Vitukhnovskaya trial were Mark Ames and Matt Taibbi from eXile. They remarked, «It's like Mississippi.»

#24, December 18–29, 1997

A year in mad dog's life of a radical politican in Russia

The Limonov's X-Files

I have started hard working year of 1997 on Saint Edwards Day, on January 5, in town called Elektrostal in Moscow Region, speaking to the crowd of a few hundreds inside of terribly cold House of Culture. I spoke in support of comrade Yakovlev, our candidate to the local city council. At night, when I went back to Moscow by train accompanied by my bodyguard Alexei, temperature fall to -29 degrees.

Then it was terrible cold in the town of Dzerzhinsk, chemical capital of Russia and my birth place. When I arrived there on February 20, my birthday February 22, I have met in archaic, crowded with churches town of Arzamas, accompanied by Comrade Aksionov, the leader of our organization in Nizhny Novgorod's Region. In search of a toilet I have visited museum of Arkady Gaidar, writer and grandfather of ignoble Yegor Gaidar. Then I talk to the students of local Institute of Pedagogy. Despite Saturday, hall was like can of sardines, stuffed with students. From Arzamas I went to Nizhny Novgorod, from Nizhny to Yekaterinburg. At Yekaterinburg, dean of Polytechnical Institute have evicted me by force from auditorium, where I was ready to speak to local National-Bolsheviks and supporters. In the past Polytechnical Institute have educated honorable students such as Yeltsin or Ryzhkov, so how can its honorable dean to let leader of National-Bolsheviks Party to speak inside its clean, precious walls?

When in the beginning of March I have arrived back to Moscow, I found out that debts of National-Bolshevik Party headquarters for services (for heating, electricity, water, garbage collection, etc.) been sold to unknown brave organization called National Investment Industrial Center. We have received menacing demand of immediate payment of 137,431,028 rubles. Simultaneously we got a «claim» from a mighty owner of Moscow, from «Moskomimuschestvo» to pay them 71,078,876 rubles, due February 21.

So, I have occupied myself with a war against «chinovniki» (bureaucrats). In a case of National Investment Industrial Center it was also a war against police structures, as that organization of hunters for the heads of creditors was tied up with police. We made our research, we found to whom we should to address in order to stop aggression. I called to Iosif Davidovich Kobzon and addressed few letters to Yuri Nikolayevich Luzhkov. We didn't win, but we succeeded in holding the enemy at some distance. In a middle of March I went to St.Petersburg to inspect our local party organization.

Meanwhile, my personal life been falling apart. My relationship with my girlfriend Liza, 25, deteriorated for the same reason as relationship of Ronald Reagan with his first wife, during the period when he was «Actor's Guild's» boss. Usually hard workaholics are frequently abandoned by women. Women need adoration and men's presence every day. In the middle of April I went to Saint Petersburg again, in order to prepare the occupation of «Avrora,» Russian revolutionary ship-museum. With a party comrades, we visited «Avrora.» I also have a love affair with a party comrade, Masha, 19. Sometimes it happens, despite all precautions.

On April 29, with a commando of 9 comrades, we left by train to Kokchetav in Kazakhstan, for participation in armed insurrection, prepared by Russian Cossacks. We have been searched already in Russian city of Penza by Russian Federal Security. In Kokchetov we have been arrested. Through hundreds of adventures, we went south, first to Alma-Ata, then across Uzbekistan's territory, (where we were searched, harassed, arrested dozens of times, and were lucky to leave alive Uzbekistan's police state). We arrived to the border town with a German name Denau, where we crossed Tadjikastan's border. On May 12, we arrived in Dushanbe, where we addressed to commanders of 201st Division of Russian Army. We have lived lives of soldiers, slept in cazern, went to Kurgan-Tube, to the Afghans frontier, we met legendary Tadjik's commander Makhmud Khudioberdiev. We had shooting practice.

In the beginning of June, in plazcart compartment of train «Dushanbe-Moscow,» full of drug traffickers, we have reached capital city of Russia. My girlfriend Liza was happy to see me. I thought we will be happy couple again.

On June 14, at 4:39 a.m., our headquarters at 2nd Frunzenskaya were blown up by a bomb — like device, with a force equal to 250–300 grams of TNT. About the same time in the middle of June, I have received telephone call from town of Georgievsk of Stavropolsky Krai. Local organization of National-Bolshevik's party wanted me to participate in a struggle for a seat of deputy in State Duma, as deputy of Georgievsk Region have died recently.

All those events were accompanied by frequent relationships with a Russian law. I was suing newspaper «Argumenty I Fakty,» and attorney of Khamovnichesky Region of Moscow wanted my skin for publication of my article in «Limonka», supposedly offensive for nations. In addition, as always I performed my duties as editor-in-chief of «Limonka,» preparing my newspaper every two weeks. On July 16th, I left for Georgievsk. I discovered that region is as big as Denmark and Holland together, that it is half-dessert, that it is bordering with Chechen Republic, with Dagestan, North Ossetia, Kabardino-Balkaria and Kalmykia. My boys managed to get seven thousand signatures me to become candidate. On July 28th, I was in Moscow, working hard to get money and support for my electoral campaign. I have met the deputy of neighboring to Georgievsk's region of Mineralny Vody, Stanislav Govorukhin, on July 31, and asked for help. Govorukhin didn't want to spoil his relationship with Zyuganov. (My main opponent was Communist of Zyuganov's party.) On August 5, I met General Rokhlin. I asked for support, we drunk two bottles of French Anjou wine at his Duma's office, he responded exactly as Govorukhin did. On August 6, I went to town of Vladimir to help our NBP man Sergei Gromov. On August 13, I and three NBR comrades from Moscow, we left for Georgievsk.

We came back to Kazansky train station only on September 17 at 10:40 a.m.. After I lost elections, two of my men (one of them woman) have been savagely beaten up and tortured by police of Buddyanovsk, famous town-victim of Shamil Basayev's assault. Same day, September 17, at 10 p.m., my girlfriend Liza announced me with a stone face that when I was fighting for deputy's seat, she fell in love with someone named Max. I gave her a slap and she left. I laughed sadly as I closed the door. Everything is predictable. Soldier came home. To console myself, I slept with a girl Natasha, 19, later I acquired myself three more girlfriends.

On September 20, I went to Parliamentsky Center, for a presentation of General Rokhlin's movement. I spoke to Anpilov, Terekhov and deputy Vladimir Semago drove me home. On September 22, Anpilov and Terekhov have proposed to National-Bolsheviks Party alliance with their organizations: with «Trudovaya Rossiya,» and «Union of Officers.» I accepted. I always wanted union of radicals.

On October 3, on November 7, and on December 7, New Radical Alliance have organized demonstrations and meetings. The most successful was that of November 7, when we crossed Moscow under the heavy rain and snow, shouting «Capitalism is Shit!», «The Good Bourgeois, is Dead Bourgeois!», «Dzerzhinsky Instead of Chubais!»

On November 11, I met Liza. We went together to a night club «Metelitsa» for an anniversary of TV show called «In the bed with…» Afterwards, we quarreled. I beat her up and we made love. We still do it.

On December 3, I went to Kaluga with a party comrade, philosopher Dugin, to speak to members of «Club of Electors.» Next day we have received summons to the Court of Arbitrage on December 24. «Moskomimuschestvo» (in fact, Mayor Luzhkov) wanted to evict «Limonka» and NBP from our headquarters at 2nd Frunzenskaya, 7. But surprise: on December 24, representatives of «Moskomimuschestvo» announced that they have received a letter from Administration of a President Yeltsin, concerning our cause, so they ask judge for a month time to reconsider their position…

No doubt, in 1997 my life of a chairman of National-Bolshevik's Party as well as my personal life was a life of a mad dog. I slept little, I was struggling with a cold, I crossed the mountains of Tadjikastan on armored personnel carrier's armor at night (that is strictly forbidden), enemy blowed me up in Moscow.

But when I will win I will have all Russia. And you, reader, little brother of mine, will have nothing.

#25, December 30, 1997 — January 13, 1998

Comparative study of secret service

The Limonov's X-Files

My first visit to first Secret Service in my life occurred in October 1973. Dzherzhinskaya Street, number two, in Moscow happened to be an ordinary old building, and absolutely nothing indicated that inside of it is located mighty and glorious and sinister organization: KGB. Night preceding a visit I spend terribly. I barely slept few hours, and at 7:30 in the morning KGB officer called me to remind me that he is going to wait for me at 9 a.m. Anton Semionovich forever will exist for me without family name. They never gave their family names, those KGB people. (That very tradition is valid today as ever. Recently I met two of them, of FSB, from antiterrorist squad, those two were also nameless, just Nikolai Pavlovich and Dmitri Evegenyevich.)

So at 8:50 I was there, near the entrance, wearing white jeans and leather jacket. Did I have a fear? Yes, sure, I felt as I will enter and never will exit from ordinary building. Few days before my apartment was visited by three militiamen and young tall Anton Semionovich, wearing glasses in «golden» frame. They took me to local militia precinct, where Anton Semionovich interrogated me during five hours. He proved to be a good connoisseur of my poetry (he even recited my poem «Glory To an Army») and connoisseur of underground art in general. Unfortunately he spoke also about me to become their informer, and I didn't wanted to inform for them. So, at 8:50 I felt badly, when I pushed heavy door of Dzherzhinskaya, 2, building.

Inside I have discovered two soldiers, armed with machine guns, been busy to guard two large staircases. And Anton Semionovich waiting for me. The walls were painted in weak greenish color. Later I went at that same building many times. We never made a deal. I have refused their proposition. But Anton Semionovich and his superiors are responsible for my eventual departure to the West. They pushed me that way. Almost twenty years later on June 24, 1993, I was invited to a main KGB building by two KGB generals. I visited Felix Dzherzhinsky's office, was accorded a privilege to sit in his armchair. I spoke for two hours with KGB officers. Our conversation was friendly. We just regretted that we didn't recognized each other's patriotism twenty years earlier. (But events of October 1993 put an end to a friendship between me and KGB.)

In 1977, on February 6, less than four years later of my visit to Dzherzhinskaya I was entering FBI headquarters in New York's midtown, if I am not mistaken 201 East, 69th street. FBI agent Ron Hubbard (I bet, it wasn't his name, that is name of a father founder of church of scientology) was like a twin-brother of Soviet Anton Semionovich. Also tall, young, blond, wearing glasses in fine, but metal frame. The walls of FBI were painted in same weak green, as KGB at Dzherzhinskaya, 2. I noted few minor differences, as no soldiers with machine guns at hallway, but a guardian, occupying a booth with a window. Asked by a Ron Hubbard, guardian gave me a yellow badge with a word «Visitor» on it and we went upstairs.

I found that only a table and chairs were furnished in Mr.Hubbard's office. No papers, except folder what he brought with him.

The questions, Mr.Hubbard asked me, were as innocent as Anton Semionovich's questions. My birthdate, place of birth, the names of my parents, etc. Ron know very well my articles published by emigre newspaper «Novoye Russkoye Slovo» as well as Anton Semionovich knew my poetry. Despite a fact that I was fired from newspaper a year before. Mr.Hubbard also knew surprisingly well my text, «Broadcast of New York's Radio,» what was rather unbelievable, as it existed only three copies of it. However, Ron Hubbard was so kind that he explained that mystery. I found out from him that that very same day «Novoye Russkoye Slovo» published huge editor's column, where editor Andrei Sedikh practically accused me of ARSONING location of his newspaper the day before. His accusation was based on my text that he quoted, «The Broadcast…» a fantasy on the subject of revolution in New York. So, we discussed the subject.

For a next few years FBI have discussed the subject with a dozens of my friends and acquaintances, as well as with my ex-wife. In inquiry sent to Gennady G, friend of mine, I was named «Lermontov,» I remember that it flattered me.

When I left Ron Hubbard's office after interrogation, I remember I saw an announcement on the wall of corridor, insignificant piece of paper actually, what stated that baseball teams of FBI and CIA were about to play. Mr.Hubbard angrily removed announcement, angrily and immediately. Probably it was a breach of FBI regulations: visitor could memorize a place of baseball fight between FBI and CIA men and could arrive at a game with submachine gun?

Because of that folder of Ron Hubbard I have received a green card not after two years of living in the United States, as is normal, but a five years later with a great difficulty and only with a help of New York City congressman. Congressman's name was also Green.

In 1985 stateless Limonov discovered that all his temporary documents have expired. So, he applied for French citizenship. Normally citizenship is given automatically to a white foreigner, a writer, wearing a glasses, author of a five books published in France. Take it monsieur! But mysterious Mr.Savenko, alias Limonov, intrigued all the secret services, so I was invited to headquarters of DST at Rue Nelaton 7, to Monsieur Bessan, and that wasn't surprise to me was rather colorless, blond, tall, young (in his late twenties or early thirties) and wearing metal-rimmed glasses. His only distinction from his KGB and FBI colleagues was that he had a cold. He frequently pressed white handkerchief to his nose. Walking with him from the hall to insides of the building I have committed mistake. I went upstairs, but he corrected me. «Downstairs, Monsieur Savenko.» So we went downstairs, two or three floors.

On both sides of a long corridor I saw a row of doors. Monsieur Bessan have opened one of the door, looked inside, as if he wanted to be sure that room is good enough for us, then close it and choose another one. We went into room. The door was no less than foot thick. All the furniture in room was metallic and unmoveable as it was bolted to the floor. Our chairs, mine and Monsieur Bessan's also. Interrogation was easy one and similar to KGB's and FBI's. Date of birth, place of birth, names of parents, how I got out of a Soviet Union, etc. Monsieur Bessan looked from time to time into his folder. Folder he brought with him. I asked him in what extent his report on me will affect my quest for a citizenship. In great extent, he said.

Next time I met Monsieur Bessan in 1986, when Armenian terrorist organization ASALA have exploded few bombs, killing great number of French citizens. I haven't receive yet my citizenship, so Monsieur Bessan have said on telephone that he wants to know some more details about my life. But what he did during the very same questions-answers session (my birthdate, names of my parents, etc.) then constantly turning to my relationship with Armenians, in particular with a owner of Parisian art gallery (on Boulevard Raspay) Carig Basmadian. Basmadian will disappear two years later in Russia, probably killed. Monsieur Bessan again have a cold and frequently used his handkerchief.

You don't have to think, reader, that those events the only my confrontations with a secret services. No, in 1980 in Paris I was invited to restaurant by somebody called Sam Perkins, allegedly journalist of a «Reader's Digest.» Few years later I found his name in «Liberation's» report on uranium's trade. It happens that my Sam Perkins was known CIA agent, using «Reader's Digest» as a cover.

When in October 1980 I went to British Embassy for visa, I was accorded unnecessary long conversation with a Mister Kew, visa officer. He had in his hands folder, and he said, smile on his face, «I know you rather well, Mister Savenko, I read your dossier.» I have to say that never before had I applied for visa to England. And that five «tsiganes» or gypsies have received their visas before me without conversation with Mister Kew. But I have said nothing.

#2(27), January 29 — February 11, 1998

In praise of a sick punk newspaper

The Limonov's X-Files

I have met Mark few years ago, in apartment of my publisher Alexander Schatalov, or to be precise, at Schatalov's kitchen. Most of a Russian's friendships are started in kitchens, no doubts. Mark appeared to me as American should be — a huge, big man, wearing a boots of fifties size, or at least size forty eight. Mark said that he read few of my books published in the United States, and that he liked my books. Then we lost each other for a few years.

One day somebody gave me a newspaper called if I am not mistaken Novaya Gazeta with an article signed by Mark. It was entitled «Limonov is not punk, but Zhirinovsky is rotten.» In his article Mark wanted to say that Zhirinovsky is more punkish than me, Limonov. I was offended at that statement, as I believe that I am most punkish person on whole territory of Russian Republic and probably on all territory of ex-Soviet Union also. Maybe Shamil Basaev is comparable with me. So, for a while I was angry at Mark, for his preferring Zhirinovksy. Then we have met again when Mark came to my party «bunker» accompanied by a man called Manfred, they together wanted to publish newspaper and they wanted me to collaborate, to write some articles for their newspaper.

I said «Yes», I will write in my broken English, boys, and you will type it, preserving my terrible Russian English style, please. Mark was surprised that I wasn't angry at him anymore for his preference of Zhirinovsky. Meanwhile, as time have passed, Mark understood by himself that Zhirinovsky is much less punk than Limonov is. To be a chairman of National Bolshevik's Party is tougher occupation than to be a chairman of Liberal Democratic Party, isn't it?

After some time Mark splitted from Manfred and started to publish eXile. For some time I wrote for two competing English language newspapers, then Manfred gave up, and now eXile is only one of its kind on the Moscow's market.

I should say that Mark's paper is probably the freest English language publication in whole world. And craziest as well. I am sure that such publication is impossible to publish and maintain in the United States or elsewhere. Only in Moscow's climate of permanent revolution of conscience is possible to publish such a sick, crazy and funny paper as eXile or my National Bolshevik's Limonka. I imagine that in ten years time some American and Russian university professors will be studying eXile as a cultural and political phenomenon. The changing of one political regime by another one is profitable to incredible freedom. Such freedom will not last for long. But I am happy to live now, to be an editor of a revolutionary Limonka and to collaborate in extravagant eXile. Your hand, Mister Mark! Troublemakers of the whole world, unite you!

But it will be fair to repeat, Mark, that Limonov is more punkish than Zhirinovsky is.

#3(28), February 12–19, 1998

How to be mad and happy at fifty-five

The Limonov's X-Files

Considering subject for my column for present issue I have asked Mark Ames what he wants me to write. Mark suggested to me to write a piece on the subject of health care, something sounding like «How to stay fit at 55,» written by Frank Sinatra or Jane Fonda. I laughed. Then I thought, «Why not, as tomorrow is my birthday, I am going to be a fifty-five, and I feel as mad and crazy as ever, as at thirty-five, so why not?»

So I will attempt to create something like «way to a good health,» or, «How to stay fit,» or, «How to be mad and happy at fifty-five,» or «Doctor's Limonov advices to a middle-aged men.»

First requirement to fulfill is: the man of fifty-five should go to bed only with young girls. For its religious orgies Tantrism have recommended usage of only very young girls, not older than twenty, as it said in a sacred book «Makhmudra-Tilaka.» Jut recently I heard on Radio Liberty that scientists made an astonishing discovery: longevity of a male's life depends on quantity of orgasms he gets during his life. Man who experience many orgasms during his entire life, including old age, live longer and stay younger.

So, in order to stay young, throw away your old wife, never even look at overweight, wrinkled woman. Find yourself a pretty teenage girl and fuck her as often as you can. Don't let a complex of inferiority to overcome you. Contrary to all rules of bourgeois society, in reality young girls like to get an attention of older man, it flatters them. Many girls would be proud to go to bed with you, it will give them enormous sexual thrill that they lack in relationship with partners of their own age. Besides, some girls dream of sexual relationships with their fathers. You will be welcome as a thrilling substitute, believe me, or either I am not Doctor Limonov. Young girls will excite you better. Young girls have a tight, hot pussies, their love juice is a boiling one, on the contrary, love juice of an older woman is glue-like. Young laugh, their freshness, even their naive stupidity will have a rejuvenating effect on you. Listen to stupid hit songs with them, get them drunk, fuck them and be happy.

Don't be upset by your age, don't let social pressure on you to become so strong that you will be choked by numbers of your age. Psychological victory over your age will open you a way to pleasurable and easy life. However, don't stay with a same girl for a long time. Change them.

Take care of your look. It's easy. Just don't eat too much. Russian middle-aged man usually overweight, American man also, as both countries have a bad eating habits. Don't eat three times a day-eat twice a day. Me, for at least twenty years now I never eat breakfast. In the morning I drink few cups of a very strong coffee, or a very strong tea. I never eat before 2 p.m., or even before 4 p.m.. Second meal I eat between 8 and 9 p.m. I never limited myself in food consuming, I eat a lot. But for last few years I eat very little of bread, or no bread at all. I like meat, especially pork meat. From a Serbian wars I brought a habit of eating tons of raw onions. My weight now is 67 kilograms. I consume alcohol with pleasure, but sometimes I don't drink during a week or so. I never drink before 6 p.m.

As to sport, I have in my apartment my dumb-bells and a weight of 16 kilos. From time to time I do some exercises with weights.

To conclude I must again underline the importance of getting rid of psychological burden of your age, of those silly numbers. Behave yourself as if you don't know your age. As you don't know what behavior is required by society from a man of your age.

Transgress all taboos, be mad. That is the key to a happiness of a man of fifty-five.

#5(30), February 26 — March 5, 1998

«Limonov wants to flood Russia with blood…»

The Limonov's X-Files

Russian journalist is a creature of about 25. He or she journalist. But in both cases it is very unpleasant creature. It is not necessary ugly-looking human being, but a matter of fact is that it always give you a feeling of unpleasantness. Sarcastic smile of a young scoundrel, of hired mercenary, paid for dirty tricks constantly stays on his lips. Illiterate, but arrogant, journalist is as dangerous as any dirty police investigator. You cannot leave him alone in room of your apartment or at your office, as you will risk to surprise him in train to look under your bed or into your driver. Journalist can steal your papers, your photos or your money.

If it is he journalist, he wears blue jeans, polo shirt (made in Taiwan «Lacoste») and sport jacket of undefinite greasy color. If it is she journalist, she wears blue jeans, polo shirt (made in Taiwan «Lacoste» of course) and sport jacket of undefinite greasy color. Journalists are usually tall and bony as jackals, obviously for a purpose to find and to get a carrion in a shortest possible time.

«Aggressive» journalist may attack you immediately after crossing threshold of your office (apartment). Ugly, he or she journalist will seat down, will put on his (her) recorder, and would say, «So, you want to flood Russia with blood, yes?» Absolutely in vain will you defend yourself, arguing that you are innocent of such presumption, that it is President Yeltsin who twice have flooded Russia with blood: in October of 1993, and during Chechen war… You are condemned to see in his (or her) paper, in after-tomorrow issue, headline «Limonov wants to flood Russia with blood.»

Another type of journalist, «friendly» one, will ask you with a sympathy about your difficult life of a radical politician, about your wives and old parents living in Kharkov, Ukraine… But the day after tomorrow you will buy his newspaper only to read: «Limonov wants to flood Russia with blood, although he deny that.» Only the difference between an «aggressive» journalist and «friendly» one is that additional phrase: «although he deny that.»

Weathered radical politician, I never will invite journalist to my apartment. Only to the office. However, an ideal place to meet with a journalist is absolutely naked room with a naked table and two chairs. One should be afraid of photos and pictures on the walls. Attention of beginners in politics: remove all the photos of your walls! If you have photos of Lenin, Stalin, or any of Soviet government ministers of the past, you are a dead man, even if journalist has no camera with him. The worst is picture of Dzerzhinsky on the wall-let it be small picture 5 by 6 centimeters — your political reputation is ruined. But be aware that even a picture of a young girl in the field, clutching flowers in her fist, may be fatal to you. It is easily transformed into deadly weapon. Journalist, if he doesn't like you (in my case they always doesn't like me), will write something as: «On the wall of Mr.Limonov's revolutionary office hangs a picture of underage girl, but as we know well, Mr.Limonov has no daughter…» So you should carefully remove everything from your office before he or she journalist is coming.

Also it is recommendable to make a careful revision of your clothes. Radical politician should wear no leather, leather is fatal to him. Mr.Yavlinksy could appear in public clad in S&M gear, he will be saluted, but not you. Moralizing example: Somewhere in 1993 I have bought myself a jacket, made of black «bolognia» tissue, only because it had many pockets. It was comfortable for a travel, as well as for demonstrations. I have weared it for two years only, but it still excites imagination of Russian media. Over the years my poor «bolognia» jacket been glorified as «commissar's leather coat,» «fascist vest,» «Gestapist jacket,» etc. And it wasn't even made of leather. Just recently on March 4th, in «Novaya Izvestia,» some girl called Marina Rozanova have written: «Edward Limonov, despite his age, is condemned to appear amongst teenagers clad in leather rock 'n roll style jacket, supplied with many 'zippers.'» Hey, Marina, did you ever see me? Come to see, I have no such jacket, idiot!

One more dangerous issue is wearing emblems and insignias. For a year now I am wearing insignia of 201st Russian Motorized Division, located in Tadjikastan as peacekeeping force. I was decorated of it in Dushanbe, by a chief of stuff of 201st division Colonel Kruikov. Jackals of media noticed it well, but named it according to their tastes: «Serb Chetnik's emblem,» «Fascist eagle,» «Limonov's party eagle.» Ask, just ask Limonov what is it? No way, they adore to diabolize radicals. Yavlinsky, wearing swastika, will be described as wearing Harvard's badge. Limonov, wearing Harvard's badge, will be condemned as wearing swastika.

To summon all already said: journalists are coming to Limonov with a ready made image of Limonov. Everything around and on me will serve them to illustrate that ready-made image.

#8(33), March 19–26, 1998

…Been hated by a large group of people

The Limonov's X-Files

February 1990. In very undelicate form I have given definition to a Gulf War: «Bunch of big Mafia bosses (UN forces of 27 countries) giving a punishment to a small crook (Saddam Hussein).» Published at «Liberation» my interview wasn't a first crack in my reputation of «eXiled Russian writer,» but it was big crack.

December 1990. Weekly «L'Idiot International» published my article «Masochism as a State Policy in Gorbachev's Russia.» That text was refused by «London Times,» «International Herald Tribune,» «Nation,» «New Yorker,» as well as «L'Humanite»-French Communist Party newspaper.

August 19, 1991. In early morning, interviewed live by French Television channel «Antenne-2.» I have greeted «GKChP» [the coup to overthrow Gorbachev-ed.] as necessary measure to stop disintegration of Soviet Union. Big chunk of my reputation was gone.

November 1991. I went to a Serbo-Croat war at Slavonia in Vukovar. Shocked and disgusted by tortured corpses of Serb kids and elders, retrieved elsewhere amongst the ruins of just-liberated territory by Serbs town of Vukovar. I took Serbian side in conflict. Coming back to Paris I wrote about that dirty war in Parisian «Choc du mois,» «Revolution,» «L'Outre Journal,» at Moscow's «Sovietskaya Rossiya,» at Belgrade's «Borba.» As television of France, of Moscow, and even that of Belgrade taught simple folks that Serbs are villains, large masses of those countries started to hate me, overnight.

Summer 1992. I was invited by Mr. Zhirinovsky to become a member of his shadow government. I was named Director of Al-Russian Committee of Investigations. Terrible blow to leftovers of my reputation.

Autumn of 1992. War in Bosnia. At Pale-capital of Serbian Republic of Bosnia, in military cafeteria, I was approached by a BBC television film producer Mr. Pavlikovsky. Pavlikovsky suggested me to interview Mr. Radovan Karadjic, leader of Bosnian Serbs, for his movie. During three days BBC crew have filmed President of Serbian Republic of Bosnia and me talking, visiting positions of Serbian army. Dishonest, BBC boys also in secret have filmed me firing submachine gun near Sarajevo. In 199-1995 that very film was showed in England, in the United States, by Franco-German channel «Arte,» etc. I got a reputation of a bloody killer all over the Western world.

1992–93. Participation in wars at Transdniestr, in Abkhazia and Kninskaya Kraina (in Croatia) made me a dangerous scoundrel's image in Western world and in Russia.

Summer/Autumn 1993. In Paris, «Canard Enchaine,» «Le Monde,» «Liberation,» «Le Figaro,» etc., virtually all French press have attacked «National-Bolsheviks conspiracy at weekly L'Idiot International.» One of a few most dangerous figures of conspiracy is Edward Limonov, member of editorial board from the very start of «L'Idiot».

October 1993. Participation in White House uprising. After the crash of uprising I have saved myself, leaving Moscow by train, disguised. For three weeks I lived in hiding at Tverskaya Oblast.

In the very end of 1993 I found myself an object of public hate in France as in Russia (although in Russia I was also admired by millions of people). I was hated even by some Serbs, namely democratical Serbian intelligentsia.

Been hated by a large television audiences of a whole Western and Russian world feels exciting. It is a big challenge. Mentally I felt myself as Superman, attacked by the hordes of zombied Lilliputians. But literary critics in France refused to write about books of politically non-correct writer. Or they, bastards, wrote, but in hateful manner. Michel Polak, very known personality of a French literary world wrote of my book «Big Western Hospice,» «Limonov is a thinker for a skin-heads.» Consequently, the publication of my books «Big Western Hospice,» «The Death of Modern Heroes» (1993), «The Murdered Sentry» (1995) were unknown to public, so they didn't sell well. One after one my publishers turned their backs to me. Finally, even my Parisian literary agent and longtime friend Mary Kling have stopped work with me.

Theoretically I always knew that there is «no liberty or the enemies of liberty.» But applied to my own person it proved to be painful.

So, no bread for a lover of Serbs. No bread for a politically non-correct writer. No bread for an enemy of Gorbachev. No bread for a Yeltsin's adversary. No bread for those who think differently. Luckily Russia is still non-monolithic society, so I can gain my bread here. For now.

Recently some friend send my from Paris one curious publication: «Negationnistes.» Page 162, I found such lines about Limonov: «English television channel have filmed him, firing at Sarajevo. Those images were shown on «Arte» and were submitted to the file of the prosecutor of International Tribunal at Hague for War Crimes.» Some people are unsatisfied with me having lost my bread, they dream about seeing in the Hague's cage.

#11(36), April 9–22, 1998

Limonov's cabinet

The Limonov's X-Files

Who I'd put in change instead of that runt Kiriyenko

Mr.Yeltsin insists on appointment of Mr.Kiriyenko as Prime Minister. Hidden qualities of Mr.Kiriyenko are invisible for my countrymen, for all of them, except Mr.Yeltsin. Is Mr.Kiriyenko, 35, a young lover of Mr.Yeltsin, 66?

Anyhow, vulgar show of presentation of Mr.Kiriyenko's body to our Parliament and that of rejection of Mr.Kiriyenko's body by our Parliament goes on and on. That is not a political show, that is soap opera: «Tzar Boris and his beloved, balding child, Alexsii.»

Meanwhile, Russia is filled up with a hate and violence and wars. Brutal suppression of student manifestation by special police forces in Yekaterinburg, recent assault on army column in North Caucasus, hundreds of businessmen killed in Moscow's entrances — can all that bachanalia of blood and terror be stopped by young Kiriyenko? Of course not. Russia lives through times of wars and revolutions, and no government of bureaucrats can run Russia efficiently. We need a revolutionary government.

If appointed Prime Minister myself I would act in following manner. One, I will close down all commercial banks, and will expropriate all their money. I will pay salary due to teachers and miners and to all workers. Two, I will send most of police special forces to the Russian-Kazakhstan border, so instead of spending their time in beating students and football supporters they will be employed properly. Once police forces in place on the border, I will call President Nazarbaev and ask him to remove his administration and Kazakhstan flags from its northern provinces, populated by Russians. No matter what he will say I will move special police forces in Northern Kazakhstan. Three, I will stop paying foreign debts of Russia, including paying back credits. I will freeze all foreign assets in Russian banks. I will declare the property of Russian state all foreign companies. Four, I will support Russian and Tatar separatist movements in Crimea against Ukrainian state. I will support Russian separatist movement in Donbass miner's region in order to destabilize Ukrainian state. Five, if President will object to those measures I will arrest him.

During the first hours of my prime-ministership I will close all country aeroports and all passenger trains going abroad. Tough control will be installed over all money transfer operations of banks and over business operations.

Step-by-step the climate of discipline, of hard work and that of efficiency will be the only climate of Russia. The law forbidding participation in Russian politics of ex-Communist party big bosses and those of nomenklatura will be passed. All government posts will be occupied by members of National-Bolshevik Party. Fresh blood will fill the arteries and veins of Russian state. MGU student Titov will become Minister of Education. We will call him Commissar of Education. Lieutenant Stasov, 23, will be appointed Kommissar of Army. As in time of Napoleon wars and that of Civil War in Russia young kommissars and marshals will run my country.

Russian parliament will be consisted of two chambers. First, of 450 deputies will do law-creating job, its members will be elected. Second one, of 900 deputies would be called «Chamber of Advisers». Its members will be presented by people of regions, they will represent professions, the ages of populations, they will be authorities of our society, religious authorities, etc. Task of «Chamber of Advisers» going to be to advise a head of Russian state on how to run country, what our problems are, what to do in order to solve this or that problem.

Culture will not be controlled at all. It will flourish as a wild tree. Sciences will have state support, they will be financed from the budget of a state. Russian socialism will be created, economical system for the profit of majority of population. All provincial towns, every small village will be run by a young National Bolshevik.

Mr.Kiriyenko will work as a bookkeeper in Moscow's prison Butirka.

#12(37), April 23 — May 6, 1998

Holiday of men without women

The Limonov's X-Files

May 1st, Day of Worker. 7:15 a.m. My bodyguard Konstantin have arrived. We are leaving my apartment, we walk along Gogolevski boulevard, empty under the morning sun. Seven in the morning is an hour of a real man, all bitches are asleep in warn beds.

At 7:40 we entering our «bunker,» — party headquarters near Frunzenskaya. There are a few dozens of party militants, preparing our flags, slogans, newspapers, checking megaphones. I feel some anxiety, as always just before action. But today my worry is higher. The trouble is that our political ally Victor Anpilov suddenly announced yesterday that his organization will march with our enemy Zyuganov in one column to Teatral'naia Plaza, not to Vassilievski Spusk with us, as we originally intended. Looks like betrayal to me.

Part of my boys leaving earlier, in order to bring flags to Lenin's sculpture in front o f metro Oktiabrskaia. So, our sympathizers will see flags and flow under them. Me and the rest of militants march along Moscow river and cross it through Krimski Bridge. Bands of policemen are present everywhere in quantity, which will be enough to suppress military «coup d'etat,» not speaking about few hundreds of youth. Walking, we curse at senseless behavior of our ally Anpilov, his unreasonable move towards Zyuganov now at the moment when Zyuganov's popularity is lowest. On April 24, Zyuganov's party have proved again its cowardness, when some of its deputies in Parliament have voted for appointment of Yeltsin's man Kiriyenko to premier-ministership. Why, Victor Ivanovich Anpilov, you are giving Zyuganov your hand now, why helping him to get up? Zyuganov's electorate would be our electorate in a year or so. That is political suicide, Victor Ivanovich. Are you crazy, Victor Ivanovich?

Lenin's sculpture is surrounded by people. Our flags, red with white circle and black hammer and sickle in it are very visible from a distance. We are joining our comrades of party. We are only youth organization, few hundreds youth amongst old and very old supporters of Trudovaia Rossia and KPRF. Why all such a different movements are having Lenin's sculpture as mutual starting point for their manifestations? Old habit, born somewhere in 1992, when opposition was united.

I take megaphone, I speak to my people, I explain the situation in Russia and today's trouble, where comrade Anpilov have put National-Bolshevik party. Actually he betrayed our mutual agreement, he betrayed us and Terekhov's Officers' Union. «As to Zyuganov, he is opportunist, fake opposition, fake communist,» said I. «Russia have enough of Zyuganov,» said I, «New commanders should lead opposition, if old commanders brought us to defeat.» Old supporters of KPRF are angry at me. They angrily shout at me, few trying to come closer, maybe to hit me. Not easy to do so, as I am surrounded by my boys, but if all that crowd will attack, we will be in trouble. Crowd is extremely hostile. I am howling some mutual for them and for us slogans: «Capitalism is Shit!» «Lenin, Stalin, Che Guevara!» «Good Bourgeois is Dead Bourgeois!» It helps little bit, nevertheless hostility towards us is mounting. It is totally unfair, because we are fidel and loyal, we are fulfilling our obligations towards Anpilov. That is he, who left us to go with Zyuganov. Anpilov speaks to his crowd, he even didn't come to speak to me… Strange manners.

Enormously popular punk-singer-living-legend Egor Letov is joining us, he arrived with his musicians of «Grazhdanskaia Oborona.» Sergei Troitski («Spider») of «Corrosion of Metal» is also with us.

9:30 a.m. Surrounded by police, two police cars ahead of us, we are leaving. Lonely, young and courageous column, misunderstood and betrayed old Russia. Only few hundreds of us.

Moscow is silent. Streets are completely empty. We are screaming our preferred slogans: «Capitalism is Shit!» «We Hate the Government!» «Revolution!» and dozens of other slogans, born on this very minute. Angry and crazy, lost legion we arrive to Vassilievski Spusk, we establish our backs to church of Vasili Blazhennii. I start the meeting…

At noon everything is over. Miner from Vorkuta, National-Bolsheviks from Australia, officer from Ukraine and tens of native National-Bolsheviks have made speeches, Egor Letov and Alexander Nepomniashei have signed. Dusty and sunburned comrades of party we are crossing Moscow towards «bunker.» Police car are convoying us openly. We are a menace. Near metro Station «Park of Culture» I stop to get a beer with a miner from Vorkuta, enormous man, called «General.» Back in our «bunker» we speak of course of Anpilov. What have we do with him. We need him, as he is only political ally we have, however to forgive him treason…

18:15 p.m. I and leader of Moscow's party organization Andrei Fiodorov we move to a club at Leningradskii Prospect 24-A, where Letov's band will play. Place is worming with punks drunk and happy and angry. As we walk through them, some trying to tear my leather jacket for souvenirs. They have not succeeded. I am known amongst them no less than Letov.

At artists' room Letov's musicians are coping with a strange fear, drinking vodka. Letov is wearing my present a T-shirt with Che Guevara's face. I drink also, but feel nothing. I cannot relax. Letov is asking that I will announce the opening of his concert. We are mounting on stage together. Punks are screaming as wild beasts. I shout at micro: «We have had a Great Empire! We have had 1945 in Berlin! We have had generalissimo Stalin! Our enemies are happy today! Lenin had succeeded! We will succeed also! For our Soviet Motherland! Egor Letov!»

Concert is going violently. About a few hundred times crazy punks jump on stage, in order to reach Letov. National-Bolsheviks (half-naked, tattooed) guarding the stage push them back on the crowd's heads. However they succeed to tear Che Guevara T-shirt on Letov. Egor throws it into the crowd.

21:30 p.m. I leave with eight or ten of my boys surrounding me. (Barefeeted,) drunk and apparently very crazy type wants something from me. I only understood that he is from Crimea. We walk down Leningradskii Prospect, the type is at my back screaming, «Limonov, I wanna talk to you!» He pushed through my boys. Finally we are obliged to stop him. One of my boys hits him — face into the tree. Silence.

We are buying some beers and walking through Moscow. We buy beers again and again. When it is almost midnight my boys walk me home. I go to bed alone. No woman. I spend my May Day holiday without woman. It was though, hard and courageous day.

#13(38), April 23 — May 6, 1998

First Carla Feltman's commandment

The Limonov's X-Files

For 20 years now, every 28 days, I am taking an ordinary sheet of paper. Using a ruler and pencil I am dividing it into 28 spaces, each one is for one day. To finish a job, I mark the days: May 25th, May 26th, etc.

The recipe of such primitive, but very practical agenda I have received 20 years ago from Carla Feltman, the secretary of my boss, the chairman of National Semiconductor Company, Peter Sprague. It happened at 6, Sutton Square, New York City, where at very exclusive brown-stone of Sprague family I been working as house-keeper, and Carla served her life sentence as a boss's secretary.

Afterwards I have lived during 14 years in Paris, France, now I live in Moscow, but everywhere, including war zones and during uprisings, I have always carried with me my agenda, because Carla Feltman's first commandment states: «Always carry your agenda with you, Edward, and check it constantly from dusk to dawn.»

I got Carla's lesson and when one day I will arrive to power in my Russia I will thank her for teaching me working habits and working culture. I proved to be a good, very able Russian pupil of yours, Miss Feltman. All my days of agenda are perfectly stuffed with a duties due to be performed, meetings to attend, tasks to accomplish, people to see, articles to write, demonstrations to organize, even girls to make love with. Thank you, Miss Feltman.

Today is Tuesday, May 19th. Following orders of my agenda at 8:15 a.m., I have called lieutenant-colonel Terekhov. Terekhov in his turn called to a leader of «Trudovaya Rossiya» Viktor Anpilov. Then Terekhov called me back at 8:35. We get agree to meet all three of us at 13:00.

At 10:30, newly appointed bookkeeper of National-Bolshevik's party Sergei Aksionov have arrived. Together we went to our bank to sign few party financial papers. At 11:45 as was agreed beforehand, Konstantin, heavily-built bodyguard of mine, have arrived at my apartment. At 1 p.m., I, Konstantin, Terekhov, his second-in-command officer, all of us, we rang the bell of «Trudovaya Rossiya» headquarters near metro «Proletarskaya.»

Anpilov is not yet there. Place is humid, old basement stuffed with red flags, Lenin's portraits and Anpilov's comrades. We are sitting down, we use phone one after one, Terekhov is using «Trudovaya Rossiya's» typewriter to type press release. At 1:30 p.m., Anpilov finally have arrived, he got stuck into traffic jam. Because, I think, he didn't went through school of Peter Sprague's secretary. Carla Feltman taught me during two years, so I know that subway system is much more useful than travel by car, in megalopolises like New York City or Moscow. High executives should use subway because it is rapid and effective. Politicians are high executives anyway. Good pupil of Carla Feltman's school I am never late. I do make Xerox copies of fragments of Moscow's map when I am going to a section of a city what I don't know. Because that is what Miss Feltman have recommended.

At 1:35 we started to discuss our further line of action. We got to agree that all three political parties have interest in guarding alliance of «Front of Working People of Army and Youth». So we pledged to keep our alliance, but decided to accord more political freedom to each of our parties.

I looked at Xeroxed copy of my agenda. Next line was «3:30 p.m. Natasha/Parliament.» Few minutes later my bodyguard Konstantin have accompanied me to metro station «Okhotny Ryad,» and I went to a State Duma. Not for political reason, but for a sentimental one. Pretty, very skinny girl, Natasha, 20, have awaited me for a dinner at State Duma's cafeteria. We ate, I bought 100 grams of vodka, so I drinked it. We looked at each other across the table with an artificial flowers. Our love been broken by me. We were together, then I have betrayed her with another girl. She suffered, she was sick. Before that, another girl have betrayed me. I drink my terrible vodka, bitter and dry, I think, looking at Natasha's little face that on May 1st demonstration, Anpilov, who joined his column with column of Zyuganov, have betrayed me in some way. Everybody betrays everybody. I have betrayed Natasha. I am bastard.

My agenda wants me go back to my apartment. At 5:30 p.m. I am at my table, working. I should do proof-reading of third volume of my novels' collection, that is coming out with «Vagrius» publishers in August. I hate proof-reading, but a voice of Carla Feltman, lucid, articulate, loud, says in metal: «Edward, you are unusually well-organized for a Russian, but you should improve employment of your time.» At noon I am going to bed. From 5:30 a.m. till noon I left my table only three times: once to eat a bowl of soup, two times to lie down on the floor, to make few dozens of push-ups. When I am in bed Miss Feltman says nothing. I deserve my sleep. I worked hard.

I am awakened by the sound of doorbell. I look at my wrist-watch. 3 a.m. Despite security precautions I opened my door. Big, fat, drunk Polish girl Helga stays in my doorway. «Do you want to fuck, Edward?» She is not from my agenda. I swear. Carla Feltman, she is unexpected visitor. However, she brought me a red carnation. I let Helga in, I am sorry, Carla.

May 20, 8 a.m. I am writing that very article for «Exile.» Big Polish Helga snores in my bedroom.

#14(39), May 21 — June 4, 1998

We will eat you, westerners, dearest yankees, and arrogant europeans

The Limonov's X-Files

Mark Ames asked me to write «about crisis.» Crisis? What crisis? Which one crisis? Russia is in permanent state of crisis from March 1985, when senile Politburo of Soviet Union's Communist Party have chosen fatal destructive Mikhail Gorbachev as its General Secretary. Twelve years of convulsions, of agonies, of dying. But we are still alive. Our collective body have tragically shrinken, big members of that body, the «republics» of South Russia and those of Central Asia are amputated. So, we are invalid totally handicapped body, only a huge thorax without hands and without legs. Useless thorax cannot act, it just seat there between China and perpetual frost of Arctical Sea. It just seat and rot.

I feel deep shame to be a Russian, deep shame to drag my fucking Slavic face across the world. To be a Russian in 1998 it is like to admit that you are village idiot, having feeble brains. We Russians, when we decide to be a peaceful, instead we demonstrate to the world our super-stupid masochism, because we always overdo things. Beside that, we are at our best when we aggressive, we cannot be a peace-loving, timid nation. It is apparently not our cap of tea. For 13 years now we are voluntarily, without an invitation, licking Yankee's big ass, and even fat asses of small European nations. Nobody even ask us to perform that licking job!

At first Westerners didn't believed at our masochism. As late as in 1988, big Fritz Helmut, enormous pork wearing a jacket have called Gorbachev «a Goebbels.» Because his straight German brains refused to believe that Russians are masochists. Big Fritz Helmut apparently badly read Russian literature. He forget that together with an aggressive masculine heroical features of national character (it responsible for heroical actions such as taking Berlin in 1945), we Russians have such a nightmarish feature as a «Russian Soul.» That fucking Russian Soul! The fact of having it should be considered a high state of treason, should be punished by capital punishment, death by strangulation perhaps. If our men are alcoholics, and they are, if our women too friendly with strangers, and those bitches are, that because of Russian Soul. That very Russian Soul what makes us highly attractive to the foreigners. Sort of mystical stupidity that push us to give our women to strangers, give our territory to unheard countries as Ukraine and Kazakhstan, give our blood, heads, and genitals to such bloody beasts as Chechens. We are more naive than American Indians of 17th century, when invaded by sinister scoundrels of Europeans. We gave up 27 millions of our people to dangerous regimes of our enemies. We gave up warm seas and beautiful subtropical resorts. We almost begged that big chunks of our best territory were taken from us. We worship all foreign goods, including mediocre cultural production of Hollywoodian Jews (we call it American culture), and even Spanish-born soap operas delighting our unexperienced senses, just like American Indians worshipped Yankee that brought mirrors and whiskey.

We are perfect people to be exploited, cheated, deprived of possessions, sexually and otherwise abused, and finally being killed and eaten.

Yes, being eaten. Because after all the things what been performed on us over last 12 or 13 years, the only logical conclusion of process will be to do just that: to dismember our bodies and eat us.

Crisis? No.Total degeneration of our Russian nation. Long, painful degeneration. We are dying, we killing our babies: 4 millions of babies per year. In 2040 it will only be 60 million of us, not 130 million as today. And next to us lives Asia. Pitiless, cruel, rich in children, with obedient women and brave, fanatically fighting men. Islam's religion guards Asia severely, codex of «Shariat» gives its moral strength and ruling over the lives of 1 billion of souls. We enviously watching Asia. One day someone as crazy as Limonov ill force Russian to adopt Islam, and it will put an end to our «crisis.» Then we will eat you, Westerners, dearest Yankees, and arrogant Europeans.

#15(40), May 21 — June 4, 1998

Fallen idols they are

The Limonov's X-Files

Umberto Eco just visited Moscow. Sort of a living legend, amongst Russian intelligentsia, Umberto Eco in person have disappointed that very intelligentsia. On «Radio Echo Moskvy» commentator have complained that Eco merely repeated same wisdoms already written and pronounced by him for hundred times. «Nothing outstanding,» contemptuously said commentator, «five or six opinions on the world and literature that is all contents of Mr.Eco's treasure chest.

Russians live through literary disappointments for already ten years or more. First critical judgement on publication of Nabokov's «Lolita» sounded like child's complaint: «Nothing special, we have expected much more…» Russians, deprived (for a most part of twentieth century) of easy acces to the world literature have cherished sophisticated, macabre and sensual fantasies about it. Now, when all the treasures are delivered, Russians are deeply offended, exactly as children, when promised by adults gifts come to nothing: shining, colorful wrapping papers, appeared have covered few gray, common objects.

Russians have a healthy attitude towards literature. As barbarians they expect it to shake them, to shock them, to thrill them. As it didn't shock them, they throw it away with a deep contempt. The fact is, that Russians are very insensitive people, with a low level of sensitivity. I order to move, to touch them one must hurt their sensitivity, to wound their stone-made Russian souls. That is the task not for literature, but for mass-murderers, for the rapists of children, for the civil war, for the Hitler's invasion. Russians were not moved by «White House» massacre of 1993, they were not touched by Basayev'' assault on Budyonnovsk in 1995. Mass-murderer Chikatilo have winned their interest, yes, indeed Russian punk band call itself «Chikatilo Blues.» But Russians were not moved at all by old-fashioned seduction of intellectual Humbert Humbert by teenager Lolita, as it is no shock for them, no big deal. Russians never been puritans, they have wild imaginations.

Having consumed world literature all at once as boa-constrictor, Russians vomited it. In new open Russian society literature is losing to almost every other type of thrill, it goes after war, after vodka and after drugs and of course, after mass-murderers. That is why new writers barely known to Russians and old ones have lost their glory. Spectacular is fall from the grace of Russian people Alexander Solzhenitsyn, formerly an Idol of Russian intelligentsia, Nobel Prize winner, best-selling writer. Only five thousand copies of his new book, «Russia In Collapse,» were printed and now on sale in Moscow's bookstores. In comparison with a millions of copies printed all over the world in previous few decades, it sounds disastrous.

Why Solzhenitsyn fell? One answer is already given: he doesn't thrill insensitive Russian stone-made soul anymore, as he did once with his sado-masochistic stories of «GULAG Archipelago.» Another answer is that Solzhenitsyn is no use anymore. He is no use for the Western world: in past decades, Solzhenitsyn was extremely helpful in the Western countries' struggle against communism. But now communism is dead in Russia and in Europe. Patriotism of Solzhenitsyn cannot be used by Westerners, it is even hostile to them. So, at best, the West is silent about Solzhenitsyn, at worst the Westerners took mocking attitude towards that fallen Idol of them. Solzhenitsyn's common, old-fashoined patriotism is no use for Russian nationalists as well. It is common, timid, archaical. Also, Russians are reddening from month to month in proportion to the lack of success of beastly criminal capitalism in Russia. So, the fallen anti-Communist idol Alexander Solzhenitsyn is loser, forgotten before his death.

Writers in general as a sub-class of intelligentsia are on the lost side. They are not shepherds of human herd, but they are sheep themselves. All their small dirty secrets are known to the people, barbarian tribe of Russians have seen many times that simple blood is pouring from the writer's body if you hit it with a stone. «They are not Gods, they are just like us» — that horrible discovery was made by Russians. Barbarians even didn't dare to kill their former Idols. They just walk away from them.

Where they gone? They want to be thrilled, so they went to Zhirinovsky, then having seen his blood, abandoned Zhirinovsky for Lebed, who still thrill them. I understood it, that is why I announced that I am not a writer. For now, few of every ten persons recognize me on the streets. One day Russians will come to me for a biggest thrill.

#16(41), June 18 — July 1, 1998

Bourgeoisie to the gaz chambers!

The Limonov's X-Files

We have met a train loaded with Vorkuta's coal miners at Yaroslavsky Station on June 11th, at 11:20 a.m. Heavy sunshine have blinded hundreds of militiamen and crowd of «Trudovaya Rossiya's» brave old women and men, as well as my black-clad National-Bolsheviks boys. We have waved our red-white-black flags. Miners, coming from the train, didn't smile. They were rather shy, strangely clean, well-shaven, they were embarrassed by our radical welcome. Attempts of Viktor Anpilov and me to organize meeting straight away on Yaroslavsky Station near monument of Lenin, didn't work. Some invisible force have sended couple of buses to collect their gear, so miners have put their belongings to the buses and suddenly started to march. We have no alternative, as only one — we joined them.

We joined them well. National-Bolsheviks proved to be much more experienced and skillful group than miners. They march silently. We have shouted our slogans: «We hate government!» «Money to workers, death to bankers!» or even «Bourgeoisie to the gaz chambers!» Miners were at first shocked but soon, some of them started to shout with us. Leader of «Union of Handicapped Coal Miners of Vorkuta,» Vladimir Potishny, nick-named «General,» big, heavy-built man, came to me later, to shake my hand. «Thanks, without your boys, we would look like a herd of sheep.» Marching through Moscow we made friends with miners. I found out that some of them even read my books.

Casked miners, my skinheaded boys, gray-haired Anpilov's babushkas under blue-black, red, red-white-black (NBP) banners we finally came near «White House.» Out there, on Gorbatii Mostik (Hunchbacked Bridge) we were, of course, awaited by heavy contingent of militia, including dozens of colonels and lieutenant-colonels. All space, intended to be reservation for miners was encircled by metal fences. At entrance, leader of NPG (Independent Union of Coal Miners) Mr.Sergeev have pointed at Anpilov and me to militia officers: «Don't let those people in! We, miners, don't want to see those provocateurs with us!» So, that is how it all started with miners, our relationship. By rank and file miners friendly, and by Mr.Sergeev pointing at us, as collaborator of WW2, shouting to occupying German forces: «Those are partisans!»

Miners still there. I am visiting their camp almost every day. They have been attacked by strong sunshine at first, then by hurricane, later by rains. Their only one demand is: removal of President from Kremlin. One of their slogans said: «Boris, we have placed you there, we will also remove you!» With pleasure, I heard them shouting at National-Bolsheviks slogans: «Yeltsin to the coal mine!» «Yeltsin — to the planks!» Rank and file miners undergone radicalization, because of everyday chat with my boys, or with Trudovaya Rossiya's babushkas. Positions of miners leaders differs greatly. Anti-radical, hostile to the everything red is as always Mr.Sergeev, friendly is Vorkuta's local leader of NPG Victor Semionov. Extremely radical is Mr.Pimenov, union leader of one of Vorkuta's mines. Radical, but less than Pimenov is already-mentioned «General» Vladimir Potishni.

They all want to see Yeltsin go. Somebody of course helping them. Some other forces who want to see Yeltsin ousted from power. Somebody of course have paid (NPG is not so rich to pay for that) for their trip, for their stay in Moscow, for everyday expenses of three hundred men. Rumors claim that Mr.Berezovsky is manipulator of a miners' scene. Probably. But it is also truth that Mr.Berezovsky is handy outlet for all the political fantasies of Russians. On the second day of miners' stay on Gorbatii Mostik (I saw myself) «Russky Bistro» bus have arrived and fed miners for free. On June 26th, Iosif Kobzon have singed for miners. Kobzon and «Russky Bistro» are closely associated with a name of Mr.Luzhkov, mayor of Moscow.

Personally, I don't care who helped Vorkuta's miners to get to Gorbatii Mostik and to stay there. What I reproach to Vorkuta's miners that is their cold desire to keep a distance from radical political organizations. Miners complain that small group of very same people visits them in their camp, that Muscovites didn't join them. But, dearest comrades, that is exactly because you refuse to open and honest collaboration with a radical forces of Moscow, that people don't go to you. Just ask Anpilov and Limonov and at least few thousands people will come with us to you. We will bring them. Together we can create a situation similar to that of October 1993.

What will happen? What is going to be? Probably some kind of crisis will occur from July 8th, until July 11th, as towards the day of opening of Olympic Youth Games in Moscow on July 11th, the government will be obliged to displace miners' camp. Very possible that it will be a fight, an assault by OMON's forces. National-Bolsheviks Party will help miners of course, as we also want to see Yeltsin go. He is, no doubt, most negative man in whole Russian history. He is the Devil. We will fight Devil's forces.

#17(42), July 2–15, 1998

To be a negative star

The Limonov's X-Files

I am a star, no doubt about that. Probably known more than any of Russian movie stars. When I am walking Moscow's streets I am recognized by hundreds of people. I belive that no Norman Mailer or any of American senators can boast of such a street popularity. Personage of Russian tragedy since 1990, I am known through all of Russian populated territories. That is the result of combined effect of my books, of my articles, and of course of television appearances.

Although overwhelming attitude of the crowds is excitement, friendly smile, demand of autograph, nevertheless I am considered by media and by those in power in my country, by their public opinion, to be a negative personality. I wonder why? I was savagely attacked on September 18, 1996, headquarters of my party been exploded by explosive devie on June 14, 1997. I wander why?

It all have started in 1990. I have still lived in Paris, but was already very much involved with Russia. Having an experience of a few visits to my native country, reading Russian newspapers, I understood that Russia is going wrong way. And that Russians are badly equipped for their job of changement of Russian society. That their politicians in reality are just functionary of administration, that they are provincial narrow minds and rednecks. That Russia intelligentsia, vain and stupidly proud of themselves, are just a bunch of retarded, archaic idiots blandly copying habits and phobias of Western world. Liberals' general idea — in five hundred days (they were in a hurry!) to recreate Western world and economy on Russian soil, following the Western recipe, struck me as rubbish. Because looking from France, evn to reconvert one factory producing arms in Alzas region, to make it produce peaceful goods, one needs enormous amount of money and from five to ten years of time.

'Russian liberals are suicidal dangerous idiots,' said I in my articles in 'Izvestia' and 'Sobesednik' in 1990. Russian public opinion have noticed my lonely position with dissatisfaction, cause I have destroyd their sweet illusions.

In January, 1991, I have sended my first article to 'Sovietskaya Rossiya', oppositional newspaper, hated by liberals, both by Gorbchev's and Yeltsin's clans and by Russian intelligentsia. «What did you do, crazy,» called me a friend. «You have ruined your reputation forever. You betrayed values of Russian intelligentsia. They will never forgive you.»

I have ignored warning and persisted in publishing in «Sovietskaya Rossiya» until September 1993. With a rate of two articles per month, been published in newspaper of over 1,7 million circulation for three years, made me popular as hell! When in 1992 I have visited Krasnoyarsky Krai, I have discovered that people have recognized me on the streets of small siberian towns, such as Eniseisk, or Lesosibirsk. But liberals and intelligetsia started to attack me as an enemy.

In Novemeber, 1991, I have offended them seriously. My novel, «It's Me, Eddie,» came out in Moscow, and in the space of a few months over one million copies were sold. When my novel was doing its damaging work in Russia, Edward Limonov, author, aarmed with Yugoslav — made Kalashnikov, physically was present at Serbo-Croat fight for town of Vucovar. War reportage from Vucovar was published in «Sovietskaya Rossiya.» It was nother big stone added to creation of statue of public enemy Edward Limonov.

1992 have added more stones. Simple account of event of 1992 sounds like deeds of many people., not of one. I fought in wars in Transdniestr, in Bosnia, in Abkhazia. I have participated in work of Congress of Soviet Deputies at Voronovo in March. I became director of All-Russian Committee of Investigation in shadow cabinet of Zhirinovsky. I have participated in creation of National Salvation Front. I made propaanda trips to Krasnoyarsky and Krasnodarsky Krais, and became leader of National-Radical PArty (my first unsuccessful attempt at politics, soon dead).

My participation in October 1993 fighting is known. When in November 1994 first issue of Limonka came out, and National-Bolsheviks started to seduce youngsters by its explosiv and attractive style, it added little to creation of horrible monster — statue of Edward Limonov, because job was already done. That is all right with me, that I am a monster. But I strongly reject the sign of negation, the sign of minus.

Let us look at Balance sheet of Limonov's articles without prejudice. In his early articles he urged Russian communists to overthrow Gorbachev from his post of General Secretary of Communist Party. It happened, such overthrow could save Soviet Union, bloody watrs would not occur. Limonov have urged Russians to live with its economy untouched or if proceed with changes do it carefully, like the Chinese did. What was wrong with those warnings, having as a goal well-being of Russia and Russians?

Limonov's participation in wars on the Serb, Transdniestr and Abkhaz sides should be viewed as acts of ravery and courage. The fact thta man never limited himself to role of simple observer and adviser, but bodily participated in Russian tragedy, risking his skin, should be at least respected.

Russia is disintegrated: it lost 25 million of its compatriots to the surrounding nationalistic regimes of newly-formed auhoritarian states. American, German, French personality (politician, writer) who would in such circumstances raise his voice and to fight for the unification of all American, German or French people will be considered as National Hero. Why am I a villain?

I am demanding that old political class of Russia — stupid, unskilled, archaic, corrupted functionaries of both camps, Yeltsin's as well as Zyuganov's, shoul dbe removed from office. Why am I villain? My demand is reasonable: 13 uears of Russian tragedy proving I am right.

I am convinced that only strong and pitiless and heriod group of people could rule Russia and resurrrect it.The tim for soft measures is gone. Is a surgeon a fascist? Am I a fascist?

I am convinced that we will be obliged to start National Libeation armed struggle against Yeltsin's corrupted anti-national regime. George Washingon and Mao Tse-tung were forced to Liberate their countries by force. Nobody calls George Washington a fascist. Am I a fascist? By the way, I wa born on Febrary 22, Wasington's brithday.

P.S. This article was inspired by «A Wolf In McFaul's Clothing», by Mark Ames.

#18(43), July 16–30, 1998

Most hated man in Russia

The Limonov's X-Files

Obvious is that real tax crusade is declared by government of Kiriyenko against Russian business community and against Russian citizens. Obvious is that taxes are squeezed from Russian economy and out of its citizens by demands of International Monetary Fund in order to pay percentage due on enormous debt of Russian Government. Crusade is identified closely with a name of Boris Fyodorov. Who is that man?

40 years old, Boris Fyodorov one of the heaviest members of Kiriyenko's government, he weighs 120 kilograms, or about 250 pounds. Graduated from Moscow's Financial Institute, Fyodorov have worked in 1987–1990 as a consultant for the Central Committee of a Soviet Union's Communist Party. So, he is not a brand new man as portrayed. Under Yavlinsky's leadership Fyodorov worked for a schizophrenic program «500 Days.» In July 1990 Fyodorov's nomenklaturian career have drastically changed for better: he becomes Finance Minister in the rebellious government of Russia, headed by Ivan Silaev. One should keep in mind that government of Russia was created in order to ruin government of Soviet Union. Fyodorov, however, was a minister only until December 1990. His personal legend say, that he left, protesting against refusal of Silaev to adapt schizophrenic program «500 Days», but I suspect Fyodorov was too much even for Yeltsin's radicals.

Then for a few years our man have occupied himself with a double service for two Masters: he served the West and Russia. He was a Chief of Russian Operations for European Bank of Reconstruction and Development (EBRD), then financial advisor for a government of Russian Federation. Finally Fyodorov have served as an executive director of International Bank of Reconstruction and Development, part of the World Bank group, for Russian Federation. He lived in Washington, D.C.

December 1992. Fyodorov is appointed as Vice Chairman of Russian Government, in charge of economy and finances. He went under political water together with his chief Yegor Gaidar. He submerged in January 1994 as a deputy of a State Duma.

«So what?» would say a reader. The story is that Fat Man Boris Fyodorov is a man of the West, no less than Chubais. May be more pro-Western than Chubais is. Curious but revealing fact — Fyodorov is an author of «Credit-Currency Anglo-Russian Dictionary.» Zealot of credit-currency religion, Fyodorov have helped his fellow aborigines to understand the language of Western Gods.

Stuck in the closet during 1994–1998 Boris Fyodorov is now in action. That overweight man will chew and eat everybody, will it be a corporation, or a «physical person» [fizichesky litso], as they say in machine — like bureaucratic language. He starved for an action for all those years. Now he acts, no matter that his action is a negative one, destructive, punitive. For him it is no interest whatsoever. The fact that most suffering from his tax zeal are average people belonging to a timid middle-class, what Russia badly wants to create. Fyodorov is a big fat bastard. Because he is bright, he knows that Russian economy is fragile, that taxes that government of Kiriyenko demands are robberies, that business community and average citizen is rubbed by government. He knows well that about 44% of Russian budget money goes overseas into the hands of international banks. He knows that Russia pays not even its debts, but making «servicing debt money» on interest. He knows too well. In 1990 Fyodorov received the title Doctor of Economy for his work, «The Market of a Loan's Capitals in the Economy of Contemporary Capitalism.» No doubt that Big Fat man also knows that such government of such a country has no moral rights to demand any taxes from its citizens. Because government done nothing for Russian citizens. Russians are alive despite its government. Not thanks to it, but despite! Kiriyenko's government even is not able to assure that workers' wages will be paid in time! Is that government defending its citizens from criminality, from aggression of hostile neighbors, from economical aggression of foreign countries, from unemployment, from a lack of food? No, not at all. So, fuck, who needs a government that robs its citizens of big part of their earnings?

Russians are silent, stupid, obedient slaves, I fell shame to be a Russian. In 1978 in the state of California man called Harold Jarvis have started a tax revolt for the reasons that were drastically insignificant in comparison with a Russian situation of 1998. I have lived then in U.S. Jarvis demanded from his fellows Californians to abstain from paying taxes. Two years later man named Ronald Reagan used overtaxation of American citizens as spring-board for presidency. As we know, he well succeeded. He was elected by those citizens twice. He would be elected third time if Constitution allowed.

As to Boris Fyodorov, I am asking myself: was that fucking Fyodorov really born by a mother? It seems doubtful to me. We know from history's books that Great Inquisitors were persecuting its victims without mercy, with some sadistical pleasure. So Fyodorov, drunk of his newly acquired power to interrogate mighty «Gazprom» or «SIDANKO,» ready to ruin anything and anybody is fanatic Great Inquisitor. Taking pleasure in persecution.

Boris Fyodorov was a member of Communist Party of Soviet Union until August, 1991. Exactly to the date after which to be a member of Communist Party stopped to be profitable. A fat rat, he escaped the drowning ship with a hundreds of thousands his fellow rats. Fyodorov is most hated man in Russia.

#20(45), August 13–26, 1998

Doctor Limonov's advices for travelling in a cattle vagon

The Limonov's X-Files

Current situation in Russia can be identified as very tense. Russians are extremely angry at its own politicians. Russians are extremely angry at its own politicians. They also very angry at Westerners whom they consider or a villains and thieves and responsible for the fall of Mother Russia. It is very probable that anti-Western pogroms would occur at big Russian cities. On another hand any government after Yeltsin's would use Westerners as scapegoats for the deeds of last decade. So, Westerners should prepare themselves to arrests, interrogations and difficult trips to Siberia in a cattle wagons. Following are advices, based on personal experience and on my father Veniam Ivanovich's experience.

My father Veniam Ivanovich was an NKVD [the KGB's predecessor under Stalin-Ed.] officer and during the 50s regularly made trips to Siberia as a chief of military convoy unit. At his charge he have had a few wagons filled up with convicted prisoners, who were sent to different Siberian camps. My father would dispose of his human merchandise on different Siberian stations. His final destination was a rail station and port «Sovietskaya Gavan,» located on Pacific Ocean coast, near Japan. On his way back to Kharkov my father collected some prisoners in order to transport them to European Russia's prisons and camps.

Once, as a kid of 13, I went to Kharkov's railway station to meet my father, who arrived from Sovietskaya Gavan. Naive, at first I have looked for him among crowd of passengers. He wasn't there. Finally I found my father on outskirts of Kharkov's railway station. Semi-circle of soldiers with a rifles (bayonets facing prisoners, descending from wagon into «Black Maria's» automobile), was breaked at one place. My father was staying there, reading the names of prisoners. Holster of his was opened and naked pistol's body was shining at spring sun. So, I am descendent of professional caretaker of prisoners. I know well how to take care of them. My father taught me.

Before to get into details about how to equip oneself to trip to Siberia I should say that my father was a dangerous, good, honest, almost ascetic type of officer, not drinking, not smoking. I suppose he was a difficult bastard as well as for his subordinate soldiers, as to prisoners. No weakness, metal, harsh, disciplined man, who lived on his trips no better than his soldiers, little better than his prisoners.

At his travels, they lasted few weeks, because Russia is very big country, my father would always take his suitcase. Or, rather it wasn't suitcase. It cannot be called suitcase — it was Russian «chemodan.» On its cover was glued forever a list of items that my father carried with him to Siberia. He would take aluminum mug, spoon and fork. My father carried with him a pocketknife with as many as eleven items, including scissors. He would take also few needles, black and white threads. He would take four sorts of brushes: one for his teeth, one for his boots, one for his uniform and one for his uniform's buttons. Buttons he would at first cover with stinking liquid called «osedal,» and then brush them to shining state. My father always carried with him at least ten white cotton pieces to sew it to his collar. (You don't bother yourself with it, you will be in no need for white collar) every morning. He also carried many pieces of soft cloth, «portiankas», to wrap it around his feet. Portiankas are much better than sock, they can be used much longer. Of course portiankas can be used only with a boots, no shoes can survive on a trip to Siberia anyway.

You may need also wooden spoon. It's much better in eating hot «balanda» — prisoner's soup, what usually served in mugs. With a wooden spoon you can eat faster, and it will not burn your lips. The only food to be recommended to take with you are dried up bread and «salo,» salted pork fat. Tea and sugar are luxuries, so you should hide it on your body somewhere, in order that your fellows travelers will not rip-off you. Don't carry many things. Anyway, soldiers or fellow prisoners criminals of common law will take them from you. For the same reason don't wear good clothes.

If you can snatch some money in cattle wagon, then from time to time you will be able to ask soldiers to buy some food for you. Old-timers highly recommend to fold money, as many times as you can, to state of a small ball or little cube. Then you can color it on surface with a dirt and sew it on your clothes as if it is a button. Many buttons made of one and five dollar bills, and Siberia will be a little warmer for you.

I highly recommend to stop smoking now. Then in a cattle wagon you will be suffering less.

Edward Limonov is the chairman of an up and coming nationalist political party, the National-Bolshevik Party, and author of several books.

#22(47), September 10–24, 1998

Chikatilo versus Serbia

The Limonov's X-Files

«If we have physical possibility to transport Serbia by tug-boat into the deep sea and to sink it there, here in Europe we would be breathing much easier.»

This was written by British newspaper «Manchester Guardian»… no, not in 1998, but in 1914! Today, as ever before, Serbia is spoiling for the Westerners its pleasure to breathe.

In 1941 with a Germans help, Independent State of Croatia was created. It worked hard until the spring of 1945 on elimination of Serbs (1,5 million were killed), Jews (only 60 thousands) and gypsies (nobody counted gypsies). Independent State of Croatia only one country in entire world what have had special death camps for children. Croatia was pacified by partisans of Tito, but Croatian bloody leaders Pavelic, Aptukovic, and others were never condemned for their horrible crimes.

Then bloody perestroika have come. In order to breathe easier, Austria and Germany started to transport arms to Croats starting from 1988, in order to help Croats in their secession from Yugoslavia. Freshly united in October 1990, Germany have backed Croatia by arms, logistic support, Deutsche marks, helped create sympathetic to Croatia public opinion inside of Europe. Hungary, who just fell off Socialist camp thanks to Gorbachev, gave Soviet Army barracks as a training ground for Croatian soldiers. Finally all the Westerners have united its forces in one Chikatilo-like effort of dismembering Yugoslavia. In 1991–1996, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia-Hercegovina, Kninskaja Krajina have been chopped out of bloody trunk of Serbia.

We thought it will be the end. But no, Albanian minority in Serbia, concentrated in region of Kosovo, didn't lose opportunity to raise its claims to its own statehood. Its entire population smaller than any of borough of New York, but who cares! Military Union of Westerners, sort of Collective Chikatilo, always happy to chop. Menace of bombardment is hanging over Serbia. The leader of Chikatilo's crusade against Serbia are United States, who acting as if it has only one goal: to become the most hated nation on earth.

«In Europe, there are two scapegoats, we and the Jews,» used to say Serbs. After Holocaust, widely publicized by Israel and Jews of Diaspora, Jews left alone, but Serbs are Target No.1. In Chikatilo's efforts to drive Serbs out of everywhere, one can feels enormous hate, irrational, wild hate of Serbs.

I went through three Serbian wars. I was on Serbian side. I said goodbye to my arms (Serbian — made Kalashnikov of «Chervona Zvezda» factory) on April 26, 1993 in town of Benkovac. I gave my Kalashnikov back to a chief of military police of Benkovac, in (now dead, invaded by Croatia) Serbian Republic of Kninskaja Krajina. I know Serbs well. They are reckless, non-diplomatic, open, crazy, rude, best possible friends, if you a friend; and pitiless enemies if you an enemy. They are very emotional, impulsive, in short they are naturally brave people. In both world wars they lost ONE THIRD of its population, so, in proportion, even more than we, Russians. But as they are emotional, impulsive, reckless, Serbs are right to defend its lands, and the graves of their ancestors, and Collective Chikatilo headed by the United States is wrong as hell.

Then here is the problem of inequality, of injustice. The very fact of imposing self-determination, statehood on Yugoslavian small nations: Croats, Albanians, Bosnian Muslims, and not imposing it on Northern Ireland Catholics, Basques, Kurds, Corsicans or Scots and New Caledonians — that very fact is INJUSTICE. We, Serbs, Russians, Kurds, Basques, Northern Irish Catholics, Scots, Somalians, all damned people of the Earth, we feel hate towards the uninvited bloody Judge and Executioner: Collective Chikatilo. We have a growing desire to kill that monster.

Another thing, just a detail. When Slobodan Milosevic gave up Kninskaja Krajina in 1995, then gave up Bosnian Serbian Republic, he had behind him support of Eastern Serbia electorate, predominately peasant, rural, prosperous, who wanted to dissociate itself from a Serbian diaspora in Bosnia and Kninskaja Krajina. Eastern Serbia electorate wanted that Milosevic will gave up these distant lands in exchange for the raising of Western sanctions, in order to receive petrol for its cars and tractors, to straighten up its level of life to that of before the wars. That electorate was irritated by Serbian radicals of diaspora. Now, the cause is different. Collective Chikatilo having as its goal to cut off Serbia its historical heart, the very heart of Mothers Serbia: Kosovo Region. All calculations over, Serbian peasants will fight Chikatilo to death, and we, damned people of planet, will fight on Serbian side. All I should do, personally, is to pick up Kalashnikov of Serbian factory «Chervona Zvezda.»

Westerners are sick, they wanna be dead. So, go on, bomb. We will eat you up on Moscow's streets.

#25(50), October 22 — November 5, 1998

The death of ethnologist

The Limonov's X-Files

Galina Strovoitova, heavily-build woman of 52, have died, killed by three bullets in her head on the dirty floor of staircase of her apartment building in St.Petersburg. Media said that in her person politician was killed. No, an ethnologist was killed.

Starovoitova have made her PhD on peculiar subject, «Problems of enthnosociology of minority ethnical group in modern city» in 1980. Minority group of her work were Tartars, living in Leningrad. For 17 years she was paid by Academy of Science, where she worked at Center for Studies of Interethnic Relations; first at Leningrad's branch, then in Moscow. In the beginning of the 1980s, she have participated in expedition in Nagorno-Karabakh, which was a part of Soviet-American project on study of longevity. In 1987 Starovoitova moved to live in Moscow to work in main office of Center For Studies Of Interethnic Relations. Politics, as a matter of fact were a brief episode of her life, while interethnic relations became a destiny of Starovoitova.

In 1988 Starovoitova, together with Sakharov, have participated in struggle for liberation of Mr.Manicharov, one of the leaders of «Krunk» committee. Known as Karabakh's Committee, group, calling for Armenian annexation of Karabakh. In 1988 Galina Starovoitova have made frequent trips to Armenia and Azerbaidjan, trying to implement her own project of settlement for Armeno-Azerbaidjani conflict. We know that full scale war between those two «republics» have started in 1989. Probably as a consequence of Madame Starovoitova's understanding of interethnical relationships.

Herself she presented her candidacy for a deputy of Soviet Union's Supreme Soviet. From what district you might guess? From district No.393 of Armenia, city of Yerevan, capital. Amongst points of her program were: the right of nations to self-determination, call for such amendments for Constitution of Soviet Union and constitutions of «republics,» which will strengthen republics sovereignty, call for a halt to assimilation of Armenians living outside of Armenia, call for a solution of Karabakh's problem on the ground of right to self-determination. The other points: revival of Armenian nation, dissolution of special task forces, democratization. Predictably, with such a program, ethnologist Starovoitova was elected on May 14th, 1989, with a score 75.09%!

But on June 14th, 1990, only year after, Starovoitova participated in Leningrad's elections for a post of «Narodny» deputy of Russian Republic. Why? She in-advance knew that Yeltsin will abolish Soviet Union in 1991? Her Armenian electorate have been angered with her, because of full-scale war in Nagorno-Karabakh? Her official biographers are silent on that subject. However, she winned in Leningrad with a score 74.07%!

In August, 1991, Starovoitova is in England. In her speech on BBC she incited the West to impose economical blockade on Russia, because of GKChPists attempt to overthrow democrats. Indulgent for minorities, Starovoitova was hard on Russians. The years of work with small ethnic groups made her a minorities-lover and a hater of its own people?

In 1991–1992 Starovoitova is an adviser to the Chairman of the Supreme Soviet for interethnic relations. In 1992 she was appointed as an advisor on the same matter for President Yeltsin. She is in the summit of her career. Some politicians speak about Starovoitova as a prospective Minister Of Defense. Suddenly in November 1992 she was dismissed from her post. She is not amongst the deputies of Duma in 1993–1995. Only in December, 1995, she returned to parliament. On April 26th, 1996, Central Committee for Elections of Russian Federation have declared that 592,792 signatures from 1,160,000 collected for Starovoitova as a candidate for Presidency of Russia were invalid.

It is visible to you, reader, that sharp decline have occurred in career of Starovoitova after November 1992. What happened then shortly before November 1992? Answer is: growing tension in relations with a newly independent de facto Chechen Republic. Russian Army entered zone of Ossetian-Ingush conflict and came to the border with Chechnya. Chechen tanks came to meet Russian Army, the situation was highly explosive. Only after personal meeting of Gaidar with Vice-President of Chechnya, Mamodaev, armed conflict was dissolved. Galina Starovoitova have participated in Gaidar's efforts, but she went far ahead, she established warm relationship with Dudaev himself. She called for recognition of independence of Chechnya by Kremlin. President Yeltsin didn't like her uninvited initiative at all. He was mad at that lover of minorities. Love of minorities was now out of mode in Russia. Starovoitova was ousted.

Six years later she falls to the dirty floor of apartment-building with three bullets in her head. Curiously, next to her lays young man named Ruslan. Despite the family name Linkov, Ruslan is a name adored by Chechens and Ingushes. Another interesting detail: President of Chechen Republic sends his condolences to Prime Minister Primakov because of Starovoitova's death — very unusual gesture for any Chechen, not speaking of Mr.Maskhadov.

Who have killed Galina Starovoitova? Third-rate politician on decline she wasn't so important as to pay for her killing to highly professional killers. More believable that all her life dealing with ethnic problems, ethnologist Starovoitova have fell victim of ethnically motivated killing. Some unhappy Karabakh, Azeri, Armenian or Chechen have butchered an ethnologist.

Or else: young Ruslan, 27, was a principal target?

#28(53), December 3–16, 1998

Editor's Note: According to an article by Vyacheslav Izmailov in the current issue of Novaya Gazeta, Galina Staravoitova was heavily involved in negotiations for the release of a pair of Russian hostages held in Chechnya by what is considered the most ruthless grupperovka operating in the region, headed by Ingush bandit Khasmat Tochiev. Tochiev has reportedly been operating in the area since 1994, and is suspected in the kidnapping of President Yeltsin's special envoy to Chechnya, Valentin Vlasov, and the murder of his aid, Akmal Saikov, as well as the kidnappings and murders of scores of journalists and others. Tochiev has even found mothers of young Russians that he's killed and demanded ransoms to return their corpses.

On August 1st of this year, Tochiev's gang kidnapped two young Russian recruits in Narzan, Alexander Glinsky and Sergei Leontev. The gangsters found Glinsky's adopted mother, Lyudmila Glinskaya, and demanded several thousand dollars from her in return for her son. When they learned that her husband had left them at a young age and they had no money, Tochiev told her to contact certain people in Ingusetia who could point out to her where they'd buried her son's corpse.

Through heavy intervention-including that of Starovoitova-Glinsky was freed a week ago last Sunday. Starovoitova is also said to have been instrumental in the negotiations of freeing three other hostages, including a thirteen year old boy, Andryusha Latypov. Izmailov ended his article by noting that during his recent travels through Ingushetia and Chechnya, scores of natives asked him to write in Novaya Gazeta that the people of Chechnya and Ingushetia share the Russian peoples sympathies over the loss of Galina Starovoitova. M.A.

Dr.Limonov's best of 1998

The Limonov's X-Files

Time of Christmas and New Year, season of greetings. But it is also time for reflection. Millions of tons of snow are falling on frozen mother Russia. Steppenwolfs are coming closer to villages in order to warm themselfs and to eat some leftovers of men's life, opening the garbage cans and garbage bags. Unfortunately, it is not much to eat after Russians.

Christmas it is best time to think over leaving year. To remember what was good, what was bad, the victories and the terrible moments of fall and loss.

Russia have had three prime ministers in 1998. Which one was the schmuckiest of three: Chernomyrdin, Kiriyenko, or else new old fart Primakov? All of them are equally uncapable. Chernomyrdin and Primakov are overweight and ugly. Kiriyenko has insignificant little face and voice of mosquito. One is forced to vote for Kiriyenko as a Top Prime Minister of 1998. His term in office was shortest possible, the age of young bureaucrat is yet tender, his abilities are nonexistent. He is the schmuck. The miracle brought Kiriyenko to prime-ministership of Russian government. The name of miracle was sickly Boris Yeltsin, angry Boris.

For the Top Dead Corpses of 1998 my nominees are General Lev Rokhlin and Galina Starovoitova. Murder of Rokhlin has romantical touch — he was killed, according to the police, by his own wife. His bodyguard heard nothing. Murder of Starovoitova, on the contrary, was done in a classical style of «entryway murder» (or «staircase murder,» if one wishes).

It is interesting to point out at newest work of Russian dictionary, English word «killer» happily adopted by Russians. Unknown killers of Starovoitova have had demonstrated beautifully professional work, even the weapons used by them were of exclusive sort, of never-heard, exotical sort. These couple of killers of Starovoitova are Best Top Killers of 1998, no doubt. I would give them also special prize for «elegant murder.»

The Top Workers' Strike of 1998 is unmistakably the «miner sit-in» on Gorbaty Most, near Russian White House. Sit-in, we all remember, have lasted from June until October. Evil tongues have said that Mr.Berezovsky have had paid for miners' food and expenses in Moscow, and that Mr.Luzhkov have permitted that sit-in strike in order to destabilize the government. About all those Moscow intrigues we know nothing. But undoubtably the miners have had a good time here in Moscow, under capital's summer sun they got heavy tan, while if they worked inside mine deeply in earth they would be pale and sick. So miner sit-in on Gorbaty Most is a rare example of exploitation of rich by the poor — miners have had exploited banker Mr.Berezovsky.

As to the Top Girl of 1998, only nominee is my girlfriend Nastya. Why she? At fashion show of French couturier Jean-Charles Castelbajac, when Nastya and I have entered show-room all the photographers and TV-men have runned to Nastya, leaving beautiful models and stars of show-biz behind in order to shoot photos of Nastya. This because Nastya looks like she is 11 (while she is actual 16), she is an angel — like blonde with rosy cheeks, wears safety pins in her ears, she is 153 centimeters tall without her rangers and 157 centimeters wearing rangers. She has a gray eyes and is smart as a wizard. She laughs openly, has no fears. Although she is a little girl, she has more strength than all prime ministers of Russian put together. If one day Nastya will lift a car or a truck, it will be no surprize for me. And Nastya will laugh.

Nastya's preferred heroes are: Hitler, Marilyn Manson, and me.

#30(55), December 29, 1998 — January 14, 1999

I detest even his scalp

The Limonov's X-Files

December 18, 1994. City of Minsk, capital of Belorussia. «Culture House of Kiselyov» on the outskirts of Minsk. Press conference of two guests from Russia, of Limonov and Dugin should start at 2 p.m.

But it never started. The Chairman of Belorussian People's Front and Deputy of Belorussian Parliament, Zenon Pozdniak, have sent about five hundred of his followers with an order to disrupt press conference. Transported by buses directly from the meeting in support of Chechnya's leader Dudayev (war between Russia and Chechnya have just started on December 11th), angry anti-Russian demonstrators started a fight with our forces, only about twenty youngsters, some of them adolescents. Outnumbered, some of us wounded, at least one seriously, we have barricaded ourselves in «artists' room,» on second floor. Finally we were forced to jump from a window and rescue our skins by fleeing. Luckily we have escaped. Mad crowd could have howled their desire to get «Limonov — emissary of Muscovites!» In the evening we have been arrested in friend's apartment and transported to Minsk's police headquarters, where we were interrogated. Three hundred copies of «Limonka» newspaper No.2 were confiscated. Police chiefs have menaced me, trying to force us to leave Minsk immediately.

It was my first encounter with Mr.Lukashenko's regime. Later, Belorussian president have used destruction of «Culture House of Kiselyov» as a pretext for banning any activities of Belorussian People's Front. Zenon Pozdniak was forced into exile in the United States, as well as two other leaders of National Front.

So, as it have happened that Lukashenko's enemies are also mine enemies, what do I think of Lukashenko?

Perhaps surprisingly I think that his government is last Soviet government on Earth, with Chairman of kolkhoz as head. I think Lukashenko's Belorussia is dull police state, grim, reactionary, oldish, anti-youngsters. Although pro-Russian (the only positive feature of its character), Lukashenko is awfully archaic. God save Russia from him, in case he will present himself as a candidate to Russian presidency.

Lukashenko came to power alone, has no political party behind him. He has no ideology, unless it is sentimental vague Brezhnevism. He is driven by nostalgic memories of Sovietism. Having none of his own people, Lukashenko is using apparatus of State: post-Soviet police, post-Soviet functionaries are working to achieve Lukashenko's goals. In its internal, domestic policies Lukashenko behaving like an elephant in china shop. By his old-fashionedness he managed to push away all the youngsters of Belorussia.

On anti-Lukashenko's demonstrations I see the same type young faces that here in Russia are identified with National-Bolsheviks Party. On the contrary, amongst crowd of Russian admirers of Lukashenko I see many shmucks, such as opportunist head of Duma Mr.Seleznev, for example. So, no wonder that youngsters are not on Lukashenko's side, which is side of political prostitute Seleznov's, side of police stinking uniforms, police boots, and that of police stupidity and policy brutality.

His stupid war with Russian journalists is caricaturizing. Lukashenko's lacking of humor, he lacks of understanding of low place of journalist in hierarchy of our modern world. Otherwise now the head of state should be offended by paid employee of Mr.Gusinsky, Smolensky or Berezovsky? President of State shouldn't take journalists seriously as rivals.

My own red Russian nationalism is avant-garde, revolutionary, super-modern. My hate of functionaries is immeasurable, I hate their guts and their mothers. I believe that Brezhnev's functionaries (chinovniki in Russian) are the cause of destruction of most powerful state in the world's history, that of Stalin's Soviet Union. How can I love Lukashenko if he is exactly a perfect functionary of Brezhnev's era? How can I admire him if I believe that in Russia everything should be changed, to the last militsia man on the street, that even facial expressions should be changed, the expressions of voices should be changed.

So I detest Lukashenko, he is repulsive for me. I detest even his scalp. Those long rear locks of hair, traversing his bald skull, making him look ridiculous, like an unkempt child molester from South Dakota.

#1(56), January 14–27, 1999

Getting to know the general

The Limonov's X-Files

On January 28, I have meet General Zotov, new head of newly-organized FSB department charged with «Surveillance For Constitutional Order». Meeting took place from 4 p.m. until 5 p.m. at the top of old main KGB building, on Bolshaya Lubyanka Square, entry from Furkasovky Pereulok. Tall FSB agent met me on the street, we have passed the sentries, get up in old elevator. The corridor's floor was covered by linoleum, old and shabby looking. The secretary of general appeared to be smiling blond «baba» aged around 35 or 40, the general met me at the door, he was fifty, or so, small and rather fat. We seated ourselves around the conference table.

The general wanted to know me, the chairman of National-Bolsheviks Party, one of two biggest youth organizations of Russia (the another one is Barkashov's RNE). I wanted to know the General because according to my sources in the past he was the head of famous FiF's Department of KGB, «ideological» one, charged with a war against the «dissidents.» In present time he was also one of the deputy of FSB Chairman Mr.Putin. General Zotov and me, we looked at each other.

General said how happy he was to see me personally because he only saw me on television. I asked the general to ask me precise questions. So he said: Is National-Bolsheviks Party planning to any actions with miners in coming spring? I said: No, and it was truth. (Then I thought it's a good idea to organize some mutual actions with miners.)

General said that NBP is very aggressive, noisy organization. I remarked that yes, our style is aggressive but we haven't trespassed any law, we are not responsible for even a drop of blood, while Yeltsin's government have its hands in blood of October 1993 victims, in blood of Chechen war victims also. I added that we are not extremist organization, that government is extremist and Ministry of Internal Affairs are extremist organizations. In one night in one Moscow police precinct militiamen commit more racial crimes, more beatings and cruelties, than Limonov's NBP and Barkashov's RNE together for all their existence.

General went to his working table, looked at file: «In «Limonka» No.104, you have written —» here he looked at me, «yes, you personally have written, 'We will go the other way, the way of Lenin's and that of Mussolini, the Red Brigades and that of the RAF…»

If you don't want us to go that way, general, convince the Minister of Justice Mr.Krasheninnikov to register National-Bolsheviks Party. I promise you, we will, if registered, participate quietly in elections. Then I said that I am ideological enemy of current regime, but I am trying to struggle with it by constitutional means.

«But you have frightened Minister of Justice by terrorism,» remarked General.

«No, I have only explained to Minister that he will be responsible for forcing NBP out of elections of 1999. That his decision will possibly force my party into terrorism.»

«I will be happy to see you again,» said General, shaking my hand by the door.

«No thanks,» said I.

«I mean in the similar circumstances.»

On my way back I thought, what will be his conversation with me, if he would have the order to arrest me.

On January 30, a group of National-Bolsheviks have disrupted congress of party «Democratic Choice of Russia». About ten of my party-members have stood up suddenly, interrupting speech of Mr.Gaidar, screaming, «Stalin, Beria, GULAG!» The hall was filled with one thousand Gaidar's followers. The fight have started. All the newspapers and television dedicated their pages and time to that event.

Suddenly, as if by somebody's will, on January 31, group of followers of Barkashov have marched from some metro station to God knows where. All attention of the medias switched to Barkashov's RNE.

Meanwhile Prime Minister Primakov have started war against Mr.Berezovksy, his troops having raided «Sibneft» and «Aeroflot» companies, known to be under Mr.Berezovsky's control. In same time General Public Prosecutor Mr.Skuratov was ousted, and ex-Minister of Justice Mr.Kovalyov was arrested. Mr.Barkashov is facing criminal charges for that laughable march of about fifty of his followers, considered as realization of his threat to Mr.Luzhkov «to invite to Moscow one hundred thousands of tough men.»

What the hell is going on in Russia?— will ask reader. The answer is: The End of Regime. The obvious heir to the throne Mr.Primakov is struggling to eliminate mighty oligarch Mr.Berezovsky, there is no place for Mr.Berezovsky in Russia of Mr.Primakov. But Mr.Berezovsky heavyweight champion answering by blow (probably organized by Tatyana Dyachenko, Yeltsin's daughter, whose sister Yelena is husband to Mr.Okulov, Aeroflot's Chairman) by hitting General Public Prosecutor. Mr.Kovalyov is probably got under arrest because he is the man of Communist Party of Russian Federation, allied with Mr.Primakov. It is not by chance that Parliament dominated by KPRF voted to strip Mr.Berezovsky of his job activities as Minister for CIS Affairs. This is only temporary, as long as investigations of Sibneft and Aeroflot will last.

As to the National-Bolsheviks Party and to Barkashov's RNE, they got under fire because they are TWO BIGGEST YOUTH ORGANIZATIONS OF RUSSIA. In time of intensification of troubles and crisis only those two are able to attract and organize healthy young men for the fight against the regime. From six thousand men that I have now, NBP would swell to sixty thousand almost immediately if economical and political situation will worsen.

Who are working hard to eliminated NBP and RNE? Tandem of Minister of Justice Mr.Krasheninnikov and of Mr.Stepashin, Minister of Internal Affairs, but they are supported in it by both camps. Here, Mr.Primakov's and Mr.Berezovsky's goals are similar: to eliminate radicals, as only we can challenge dying regime of Yeltsin and that of very sick from birth regime of Mr.Primakov's.

Where is Mr.Yeltsin in all it? He is in a hospital bed, guarded by general with Rumanian name: Bordyuzha.

#3(58), February 10–24, 1999

Who «Zakal» agains us?

The Limonov's X-Files

February 20, about 2 p.m. Even though Saturday, headquarters of National-Bolsheviks Party are open. Few young party members discussing party protest action at Nikita Mikhailkov's press conference at Hotel Radisson-Slavyanskaya. For distribution of leaflets, two of our men were detained, then released. They are happy to be released, but disappointed of result, as they failed to get in. They were forced to throw leaflets at the entrance. Prudish, hypocrite, mediocre artist, Nikita Mikhailkov is our target.

One of our young men, Dmitri, gets up. He walks out of headquarters to go to post office. To the right of the door on staircase there is the cardboard box. Inside are about fifteen or more bottles of… «Molotov Cocktails». Smells gasoline, bits of rags are hanging from the necks. Smells gasoline… and smells rat. On the box it was written, «To National-Bolsheviks for revolution against democrats». After brief moment of confusion boys carrying box to militia station No.107, which is located in same building as our headquarters.

AT 3:45 p.m., the group of armed men have stormed our party headquarters. They presented themselves as anti-crime police. They started unwarranted search of premises. Helmets, Kalashnikovs, bullet-proof vests, pistols, militiamen are behaving as Dirty Harrys from Hollywood movies. But Dirty as they are, they have arrived too late, cardboard box is gone. One of Harrys sabotaging telephone, so for the next hour when I am calling to headquarters, phone is constantly busy.

Then reporters made their appearance. Cameraman's team of NTV, cameraman of «Dezhurnaya Chast» (television program dedicated to true crime stories), people from some news agencies. According to them, they were summoned by militiamen.

Finally I have phone call from Dmitri who have managed to escape Together with my lawyer, Sergei Belyak, I am arriving to headquarters. Or for to be exact I should say «arriving near headquarters,» since they'd closed and sealed doors. Not by militiamen, but by officer of fire department. Because, as they have found nothing, cops obliged to call in fire department officer (this is old Soviet-style trick, used against dissidents to close down their places of meeting).

Reporters still there. They interviewing me. It is obvious for them and for me that Dirty provocation didn't worked. Criminal police have disappeared, leaving the cops of 107th precinct as scapegoats. Cops of 107th are cursing, they are obviously unhappy with their assignment.

I am going to 107th station, where nine of my boys are detained. I am talking to the chief of the 107th precinct and to his next in command. They are rather upset. The Police Chief even goes so far as to say that he «feels disgusted.»

One of reporters say that he recognized amongst Dirty Harrys the Chief of Moscow's Criminal Investigation Department Police (the infamous «MUR», or Moskovsky Ugolovny Rozysk). [Editor's note: MUR, whose employees are essentially just homicide and vice detectives, and their presence would be obviously political in nature.]

Having the boys released, I leave 107th precinct.

As I know, nothing been shown on television about National-Bolsheviks Party headquarters that very evening. Nothing been shown on Sunday. Only «Interfax» agency have released some information about failed provocation.

I am an ideological enemy of that political system, I have never hide that fact. That our government is band of thieves and sinister killers I have no doubt. I am asking myself, «What else should I expect from them?» Assault on me in 1996, explosion in headquarters in June, 1997, now Molotov Cocktails, failed provocation of 1999… What if it didn't fail? They would send me to prison for some time for possession of Molotov Cocktails… What else should I expect?

Luckily I have no son or daughter that they could rape.

Who is that man who «zakazal» (ordered) that National-Bolsheviks Party provocation? It should be a man who can order around such a big man as is Chief of Moscow Criminal Investigation Department? Answer is only one: Minister of Internal Affairs, Mr.Stepashin, who is fighting political extremism together with Minister Of Justice Mr.Krasheninnikov. Those brave men are hunting youngsters of RNE and NBP on Moscow streets from dusk to dawn. The problem is that they are breaking law, those passionate ministers.

I accuse Mr.Stepashin and Mr.Krasheninnikov of preparation and execution of provocation. It is also high probability of FSB participation. The day before, on February 19, Minster Kondratiev, FSB officer, who is working under command of General Zotov, visited me at our headquarters. He warned me of consequences if my party will misbehave. Unknown men in civilian clothes have seized all party documents during search on February 20, as a consequence, I suppose.

Doctor's Limonov's diagnosis? State banditry.

#4(59), February 25 — March 10, 1999

Doctor Limonov speech after the women's day

The Limonov's X-Files

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.

#5(60), March 10–24, 1999

Unbelievable real story of Russian «Patriot» Mikhalkov

The Limonov's X-Files

Once upon a time it was a Russian movie director named Nikita Mikhalkov. Famous, known, appreciated in his country, he enjoyed public acclaim and at 53, was at very summit of his glory.

On January 7, 1999, in Asian city of Almaty, happy movie director Mikhalkov have presented to Asian public his new movie, «The Barber Of Siberia». Entire family of Kazakhstan's President Nazarbayev have visited premiere of his film, Nazarbayev's wife, his three adult daughters, and numerous relatives have applauded talented master. Everything went well and happy master movie director Nikita Mikhalkov have pronounced a speech. In his speech he said that he wished that Nursultan Nazarbayev will be again elected president by the people of Kazakhstan. No man will save Kazakhstan's people better than Nursultan Nazarbayev. So, people, what you have to do is to vote January 10 for Nazarbayev. Few days after, on January 10, Nazarbayev was «elected» by people of Kazakhstan. Even very indulgent European Community didn't recognize those Asian elections — violent, fraudulent.

Very far from city of Almaty in frozen Moscow in the basement at Second Frunzenskaya dom 7, National-Bolsheviks Party talked about Kazakhstan's elections at its weekly meeting. Members of National-Bolsheviks Party, you see, have visited Kazakhstan in May 1997, they knew what kind of state it is. They were arrested there, in town of Kokchetov, where they met Kazakhstan's Russian dissidents. They knew that if Russia is merely Police State, Kazakhstan is tyrannical one.

«What a fuck he does that Mikhalkov, didn't he know what kind of regime is Nazarbayev's state?» asked each other National-Bolsheviks. Hundreds of Russian dissidents been killed in a savage way by Nazarbayev's henchmen. Hundreds of thousands of Russians have fled Kazakhstan. So why the fucker did it?

Finally, National-Bolsheviks agree that Mikhalkov didn't give a damn about Russians in Kazakhstan or elsewhere. Offspring of prominent «noble» family, he despises people in general, he feels belonging to the race of ministers and Presidents.

On February 20, at 11:30 a.m., just before first presentation of very same movie of Mikhalkov in Moscow at Radisson-Slavjanskaya Hotel, few National-Bolsheviks have thrown leaflets into the crowd of journalists. Furious, Mikhalkov have telephoned to his friend Minister of Interior Sergei Stepashin. «Sergei, do something, those mother-fucking Limonov's people ruining my reputation! Leaflets say that I am friend of butcher Nazarbayev. They have named people killed by Nazarbayev's police. Do something! Arrest them! Arrest that fucking Limonov and his people!»

«I should have a reason to arrest them, Nikita. Throwing leaflets is not punishable by arrest.»

«So, find a reason, Sergei. Put something into their headquarters. Some drugs, some weapons!»

«You asking me to organize a provokatsiya, Nikita, are you crazy?! I am Minister, I would lose my post! On the contrary, if your Kazakh's friends will take that part of operation into their hands, will arrange that some drugs or weapons will be found and Limonov's headquarters, well, I will send my militiamen to find them. Ask Nazarbayev — he owes you for a lot.»

At 2 p.m., cardboard box filled with a bottles of Molotov cocktails was found by National-Bolsheviks on the stairs of their headquarters. «For NBP To Fight Democrats!» was written on box. National-Bolsheviks promptly carried box to 107th police precinct, located in the same building as our headquarters. After 3 p.m., crowd of militiamen stormed into National-Bolsheviks basement. Almost immediately have arrived NTV television crew and militia program «Dezhurnaya Chast'». Alas! Kazakhs have worked too quickly; Russian militiamen too slowly. So there was nothing to film, no work for television crew. None whatsoever!

(Footnote: Molotov cocktail provokatsiya is specific Kazakh invention. Just before January 10th elections in Kazakhstan, Molotov cocktails were delivered to the editor's office of opposition publication «XXI Century». Kazakh militia came on time, and «XXI Century» was shut down.)

As nothing was found, militia have called fire department officer, who sealed an office of National-Bolsheviks Party. But on February 24, it was opened by Limonov's demand. Because provokatsiya had failed.

Then on February 26th, National-Bolsheviks in Riga, Latvia, have throwed leaflets at the Latvian premiere of very same Mikhalkov's new film. Few days later, leaflets been thrown in Pushkinsky movie theater in Moscow. Furious, Mikhalkov watched helplessly at process of ruining of his reputation. Because Mikhalkov have managed to have a snow-white reputation of a Russian patriot, worshipper of Russian values. He spoke pompously about church, Tsar, vodka, bliny. Oddly enough, miserable fate of six million Russians in Kazakhstan wasn't included in Mikhalkov's Russian values.

On March 10, during Mikhalkov's lecture to film students at «House Of Cinema,» National-Bolsheviks Dmitry Bakhur and Yegor Gorshkov have thrown two eggs at Russian patriot Nikita Mikhalkov. Infuriated Mikhalkov have kicked boys with his legs while they been subdued and prostrated on the floor by at least four men. Real hero, Mikhalkov, said, posing to the press, that he «served in the Marines.» Then he called to his friend Stepashin.

«Sergei, I got them. How will they be punished?»

«They will spend a night in militsia precinct. In the morning they will be transferred into Presnensky court. They will be fined, that is all…»

«I want to see them in prison!»

On March 13, Dmitri Bakhur and Yegor Gorshkov were transferred to Butirka prison. At very same day, Nikita Mikhalkov vent to a tennis tournament for VIPs, where he played haunch-to-haunch with Kremlin Administration deputy Oleg Sysuev, former Yeltsin spokesman Yasterzhembsky, Mayor Luzhkov, and other very important men. Russian boys Bakhur and Gorshkov stepped into overcrowded prison cell, hating Russian patriot Mikhalkov. Dmitri Bakhur, been amongst nine National-Bolsheviks who participated in National-Bolsheviks Party trip to Kazakhstan, knows well real beasty face of Nazarbayev's regime. He knows it first-hand. He remembers pale of fear Cossacks of Kokchetov, after unsuccessful attempt of Cossacks to get Kokchetov region to secede from Kazakhstan and join Russia. He knows the names of murdered Russians.

On March 15, National-Bolsheviks lawyer Sergei Belyak have demanded an accusation of Mikhalkov for beating Bakhur and Gorshkov with his legs. On March 17, press conference of Limonov and Belyak was attended by only eight journalists, although invitation have been send to 120. The very same day, Mikhalkov and his lawyer, Kucherenea, have visited TV 6 people of program «You Be The Eyewitness» in order to see a video cassette where he, Mikhalkov, have shown beating Russian boys Bakhur and Gorshkov with his feet. Mikhalkov probably bought that cassette.

#6(61), March 25 — April 7, 1999

The west is a mad dog

The Limonov's X-Files

Western produced rockets and bombs are hitting beautiful Austro-Hungarian city of Belgrade, hitting tiny picturesque archaical towns of Serbs. All that barbarism done in order (or as excuse) to create tiny state of Albanians in Kosovo, on Serbian soil.

What historical memories are awakened by NATO bombardments? The Fourth Crusade, of course, when Western Catholic Crusaders have seized Christian but Orthodox city of Constantinople in 1204, killing, looting and raping and killing again. The Crusaders founded feudal Latin Empire, which existed until 1261. Hitler, dismembering Tcgekhoslovakia in 1938–1939 at least had a pretext in a few million strong German population of Sudetenland and Bohemia. Is Kosovo populated by Yankees, Brits, French, Germans aspiring to independence? No.Why then US and NATO interfered in Kosovo? Out of what strange sympathy? Lot of Mexicans live in American states of Mew Mexico, California, Texas, why don't you make a Mexican state for them first, Yanks? Kurd nation at least 20 million strong has no state of its own. Why don't you help Kurds with statehood? Yankees silent on these subjects.

If you, reader, tell me that Serbia is still a menace to even tiniest country of NATO I will spit on your face. No man, fuck you. Serbs are fighting for eight years, they are exhausted. Serbs will be happy just to live as they live before March 24, hoping for no changes. With its population of less than ten millions, hit by the wars from 1991, Serbia is no menace to NATO countries whatsoever.

What motives behind Western crusade against Serbia, what overly serious reasons? Strategical goals? I don't believe it. Helping creation of another Islamic state in Europe (Albania, Bosnia are Muslim) is very risky business in a long run. Today Albanians look at Yankees and NATO as their liberators, tomorrow they will fight side by side with their Muslim brothers against Yankees.

Maybe economical goals are pursued by Western alliance bombing Serbian cities? Reasoning that petrol prices will go up because NATO use enormous amount of petrol during daily death flights over Serbia? Dow Jones will go up because of war? If so, Western leaders are deranged. They should be dismissed from their posts, tried and convicted.

However, I think that another explanation is available. In 1986–1991 the Soviet Empire, mighty rival to Western civilization, committed suicide. From that time the West and only the West became one and only master of planet. (Of course there is still China, but is China on the same planet?) From consciousness of this fact the West went mad. «Its roof fell in,» as Russians say («Krisha poekhala»). When exactly this happened? I think shortly after fall of Berlin's Wall. Punitive expedition to Iraq of 27 countries was organized and performed in very new spirit — spirit of sick pleasure of the West from its superiority. Masters of our planet, of the Universe, bombed Iraq just out of pleasure. Oh, of course it was explained (to the world and its own Western populations) how Iraqi leader Saddam was bad, how Kuwait was defenseless. But in reality we, contemporaries, witnesses of Operation «Storm in the Desert» have had a strong impression that Saddam was lured into Kuwaiti trap. In order to get pleasure from killing Iraqi soldiers with air-fuel bombs. Otherwise it is very little sense in Iraq war. Nine years later «humane» Western leaders still bomb Irag's land almost every day. Will they bomb it after Saddam's death? It's highly probable.

From 1990 West has used every possibility to kill Serbs. First Austria, Germany and Hungary have parachuted arms to Croatia in helping it organize its secession from Yugoslavia. They literally forced Muslims of Sarajevo into uprising in 1992. But pleasure of only manipulating is not the same as pleasure of killing. So, they intervene in Bosnia. Now they bombing Serbia itself.

I am repeating: it is no strategical explanation for western behavior. Yugoslavia consisted of few million people and to say that it was an obstacle to USA and NATO strategical plans is silly. Strategical reason sounds even sillier today when are barely ten million Serbs left of Yugoslavia. No, reader, don't believe them: it's pure Psycho explanation that works. As Chikatilo did, serial killers appear on earth. In the same way serial killer nations appear from time to time. Hitler's regime was legitimate child of old Europe. Some Western ideas helped to create Hitler's serial-killer nation-state. Fifty years after defeat of Hitler's state we have western constellation of killer-states: USA and Western Europe. It is not of significance that NATO/US alliance totalling rejecting Hitler's heritage. In reality they are serial killers, only the motivation is different.

Hitler have punished other countries, took their territories, because he believed that Germans are Race of Masters, Aryans who should rule over other nations, making them slaves if Germans wish. Yankees and NATO also think they are rightful masters of other countries' destinies. They reject racism, yes — part of American soldiers bombing Serbia are black, some Hispanics, but they practice «Westernism,» that looks no better than racism. Not a race is master (as Hitler preached) but superior Western civilization and its values is master of other nations. Pitiless and bloody master.

Idea of bombardment of Serbs was produced by obviously a very very sick mind. In order to give a practical independence to small minority, Westerners are killing majority of population of land, devastating land, bombing Serbs into medieval stage of life. Is that a final result of Plato's, Voltaire's and Nietzsche's philosophies — to bomb beautiful city of Belgrade? Yes! The road from «Liberte, egalite, fraternite» to «human rights» goes directly to use of air-fuel bombs. The West is dangerously ill of self-righteousness, megalomania. Like a dog, like a maniac serial killer, it is attacking by its whim. The only way to stop a dog ill of hydrophobia is to kill him.

#8(63), April 22 — May 6, 1999

How I was censored by «Exile»

The Limonov's X-Files

Finally even fantastically free «eXile» editors have censured my text, the last one, on Westerners killing Serbs.

They have some excuses, however. First, Mark Ames was all excited by «eXile» demonstration against bombardments of Yugoslavia, he was terribly nervous, through my telephone I could feel he was perspiring, badly out of his normal self. Second reason: Russian and American mentalities are different in details. Characterizing Albanians as «a very backward, Tzigan [Gypsy] — like, rude, crude, mountain tribe» I feel that I am describing them well. To me it is pure hardcore-ish truth: Albanians have Tzigan-like skin, they have rude manners, their level of civilization could be much better.

I know what I am talking about. I saw them in 1991 in Titograd, ugly town-capital of Chernogoria (now it is changed its name for Podgoritsa). The crowds of Albanians populating Titograd/Podgoritsa — the first impressions that Albanians is nation of only males, men without women. That is because they keep their females hidden at homes. Gloomy, wearing black leather jackets, males crowded together on dark streets, mountain wind through empty cans and bottles and dust. The town of Titograd is «no place to live with a wife and children,» I said to myself.

Now, eight years later Mark Ames calling to tell me that Albanians not Tzigan-like, not backward. I believe American mentality is hypocrite. American taught that he shouldn't say, «these people are looking like dangerous brutes.» Only Americans think like that. Russian is taught by his family, by friends, by all his social environment to say aloud whatever he thinks. So, I wrote «very backward, Tzigan-like, rude, crude.» But Mark Ames said on telephone that it is a racist remark, he suggested to me to take them out of text. Then he gave telephone reciever to John.

John was cool. And I was cool. I said that I don't believe that to call people Tzigan-like is racist. It's only valid on condition that I would also say that Tzigans are full of shit. I also don't think that «backward» is a racist definition. They are just not civilized, it's all. But it's OK, let us take those words, «backward, Tzigan-like, rude and crude» out of text. So we did. John and I. We also get agreement on eliminating phrase «archaical backward mountain minority» in the end of text. Satisfied, we say goodbye to each other.

Then Mark called again. That time he was even more nervous. Now, he said, he is objecting to following phrases: «Albanians? Those bastards (as Moslems of Bosnia, Croats of Croatia) cynically using possibility to get their statehood for free. I doubt that Albanians have enough of educated people to fill the offices of administration of small town, not speaking about state. And what will they do with independence on rocky mountains, having only rocks and sheep?»

I said «Mark, it has nothing to do with racism. It is only statement that Albanians have a very little of educated people. Coming out of socialism some fourteen or fifteen years ago, they live in state of violence and anarchy. So their system of education is destroyed.»

«Edward,» said Mark, «our readers will understand your remarks in sense that Albanians are inferior people.»

«Mark, in sense of education they are. But what is bad about saying it? Maybe one day they will achieve enormous level of education, I didn't say they are stupid by nature, I said they have not enough of educated people to fill the offices.»

«Edward, our readers are Westerners, for them those remarks will sound as purely racist.»

As Mark sounded very serious, exhausted and nervous I said I am capitulating. I am satisfied with his editorial demands. I killed my impressions, my feelings, my beliefs.

After telephone conversation with Mark, I thought about Serbs. Big, open, gay, these smiling people are much closer to Americans than distant, sullen, withdrawn Albanians and their society of men without women. In a way, Serbs are for their region have same position as Americans for both American continents, so they could be called «Americans of Balkans.» Idiocy of a «new world order» expressing itself in that very contradiction: Alas, Westerners are fighting beautiful race of brothers in order to help some aliens.

If that is racist remark, I apologize.

But honestly, who loves Albanians? What is the reason to love them?

#9(64), May 6–20, 1999

Portrait of Dirty Harry as prime minister

The Limonov's X-Files

Knowing that he has no support of Russian society whatsoever (recent polls showing that his policies are disapproved by 98% of population), our tyrant Yeltsin, or rather leftovers of Yeltsin's decaying corpse, have created super Police State. Police general, Minister of Interior Sergei Vadimovich Stepashin was appointed as an acting Prime Minister of Russian Federation. Yeltsin did it in show-off style just a day before start of procedure of Yeltsin's own impeachment by a State Duma. Sinister Mr.President, having one foot in grave, cannot refuse himself a perverted pleasure to rape his country one more time. (Yes, I see him raping naked beautiful Russia, his old face shining of pleasure…) What was a reason for a rapid ascension of Mr.Stepashin, rather narrow-minded police officer? Even more, Stepashin is lousy police officer, the failure.

On June 30, 1995, Stepashin was discharged of his job as a head of FSK (Federal Service of Counter-Espionage) because of blood assault of Shamil Basaev's band on Southern Russian city of Buddionovsk. FSK (ex-KGB, nowadays it called FSB) couldn't notice and stop a band of Chechen warriors in full military gear to cross whole Stavropolsky Krai, as city of Buddionovsk located almost 150 kilometers north of frontier with Chechnya. Just recently as Minister of Interior Mr.Stepashin was responsible for the terrible fire of police headquarters in city of Samara, where 69 police officers have perished. That fire was not an act of some criminal vengeance. Hellas for Mr.Stepashin, it was a vulgar fire in dilapidated, old, overcrowded building. Most of police stations of Russia are like that of Samara, unkept, old, dilapidated, and overcrowded. Mister Stepashin, as many Ministers of Interior before him, is too busy to do politics. He has no time to devote to well-being of his police. Mr.Stepashin is not very bright also. Otherwise how come he could let his «comrade-in-arms» (police general also) General Schpigun to go to Grozny — capital of Chechen Republic? Where the very same Mr.Schpigun during Chechen War was a commandant and responsible for the detention camps, how come?

Mr.Schpigun himself obviously is an example of astonishing recklessness, bordering with idiocy, but Mr.Stepashin, his superior, why did he send a stupid general to Chechnya? Chechens many times have had announced that General Schpigun is one of their worst enemies. Chechens have declared General Schpigun a war criminal. But Mr.Yeltsin have decorated General Stepashin after Schpigun's kidnapping and after fire in Samara.

Who is Mr.Yeltsin himself? Is he all right in his head?

No, he is obviously not. Mr.Yeltsin said that Mr.Primakov couldn't make it with the economy, so economy is not improving. So, now, Russian economy will be improved by police officer with such a bad record, that in any country he would be discharged without retirement pension as a Dirty Harry. What a bullshit! What economy?!

Stepashin's only quality is the fact that old tyrant Yeltsin strongly believes that General Stepashin is totally loyal to him. So, tyrant have had appointed a general in order to stay in power by police violence, as he cannot anymore cheat people of Russia by «democratic» means. What we will see in coming year is tyranny of dying President, supported by bayonets of General Stepashin's OMONs, SOBRs and others well-paid, heavily-armed SBIRs. Mr.Stepashin have had started to prepare himself to such a job long time ago. In 1989 he largely contributed to a collective book The Forms And Methods Of Work of Interior Ministry Forces Against Self-Made Organizations. Under the notice «For Service Use Only,» that practical manual was published by Political Department of Ministry of Interior and distributed to police officers.

As I am a Chairman of exactly «self-made organization,» I know how Stepashin works with us. On February 20th, Interior Ministry forces have been storming in headquarters of National-Bolsheviks Party. They calculated that box with Molotov cocktails been send to us by those very forces 40 minutes earlier, is still there. So they have invited NTV people, program Dezhurnaya Chast', photographers from some news agencies. Hellas, we have carried those planted Molotov cocktails to a nearby police station immediately after finding them on our doorsteps. Stepashin's police haven't read Stepashin's book, or Stepashin's book isn't good enough?

Now he is a Prime Minister. Dirty Harry, appointed by President. He was born on March 3, 1952, in Port Arthur, now China's territory. I wonder how and when he will die.

#10(65), May 20 — June 3, 1999

Aborted generation

The Limonov's X-Files

In post-war drunkenness and lust they have been born. Mad of long abstinence, millions of young soldiers mounted girls, happy to be alive and fuck. Mass coupling have had place all over the world from May 1945 till the time when demobilized soldiers continued to arrive to their respective Motherlands: US, Russia, other Englands, so spermo-ball lasted practically late in 1946. Born of those couplings babies been strongly influenced by the death and war. Some atomic micro-particles, some molecules of war, blood and arms metal, have got into the wombs of females and affected DNA of babies. So, they are anxious people, those baby boom babies.

In 1966–69 baby boomish babies reaching their twenty, happily created hippie movement. Numerous «flower children» first started in California, then rapidly hippie fashion went over the world. Wearing gypsie-like clothes, chanting and taking drugs, hippies have enjoyed themselves. As to the world surrounding them, it was a same rigid world of policemen, businessmen, workers, government officials and housewives. Preaching love and happiness, seeking mystic experience, avoiding to work were not the things to be appreciated by that old-fashioned world. Hippie influence the industry of entertainment, but not the world, as it cannot be changed by chanting and taking drugs and by reading Casteneda's or anybody's books.

Becoming students eligible for military service in late sixties, some babies of baby-boom unwillingly went to a various wars and conflicts, to a bloody Vietnam War, in particular. Stupid May 1968 «Revolution» in Paris is their most prestigious political achievement: one month of a street musicals, of buffonade, of hows; witticism of discussion and slogans, perfect absence of action and as a result — full-scale failure. That was their «revolution» — a failure. Babies of boom also responsible for some other protest hysterics: «Berkeley's Revolution», «Berlin's Revolution», «Prague's Revolution» (also called «Prague Spring»), etc. The «heroes» of those hysterics become known to the world, they have achieved a great fame, people like Daniel Con-Bendit, or Bernard-Henry Levy or Serge Fuly or Jerry Rubin were worldly known. However, something been missing from characters of those «heroes,» something been absent from their genetical heritage. What?

Masculine will to change the world, masculine vital determination to go ahead till the end, till the death or victory. They always stoned, when it was a confrontation. They stoned in Paris in May 1968, they stoned in Chicago in same year, they stoned in Berkeley in 1969. Why?

It's very possible that with molecules of war, blood and arms metal, the wombs of their young mothers have got a fear of their young fathers, fear of death. Animal fear to be killed.

During the seventies baby-boom children have lived disordered lives in the middle, in the normal world of their fathers and in that marginal world of half-hippies/half-political protesters, small troublemakers' lives. Finally the world of fathers subjugated them.

Of course they tried to get out. They deserately supported liberation movements in underdeveloped countries, they visited Fidel Castro in Cuba as Jean Hedern-Hallier or Che Guevara in Bolivia as Regis Debres, but the world of fathers got them. One by one they capitulated. Serbe Fuly's capitulation expressed itself in reorientation of his newspaper «Liberation» into pro-government newspaper. In 1977 Bernard-Henry Levy (ex-Maoist!) have published a book «Barbarism With A Human Face» where he denounced last protest ideology — a communism. From now on Levy become a worshipper of bourgeois values, super-Bourbois. Danill Con-Bendit becoming a Vice Mayor of city of Hamburg, Jerry Rubin — a yuppie. So, prodigal sons went back to family.

It is also not coincidence that biggest of their theoreticians, the brightest and most honest one (although not a baby of boom himself) Guy Debord have committed suicide some years ago. Alcoholic life and suicidal death of Situationist's movement was just another illustration of inferiority of baby booms children. His famous book «La Societe Du Spectacle» (1967) have preached the wrong principles: that nature of power in modern society have changed, that «spectacle» is its new nature. Not, no way, Guy. That is always a brutal rude principle at work everywhere: in Tadjik's mountains, at Paris or Kosovo, in New York as well as in Moscow: only brutal force is able to make a Kings and States. Mao Tse-Tung have expressed it in following phrase: «The rifle is giving birth to power.» In 1968 as well as in 968 or many centuries before Christ, «spectacle» was a surface. Pharaoh's power was not located in his clothing or in mysterious religious ceremonies, but in masses of warriors commanded by him. Probably Debord finally understood that, so Debord committed suicide. Why to live if you have lost, if your ideas proved to be wrong ideas…

What is amazing is that those «rebels» have left no corpse behind them. Their surrender to father's world of bourgeois society was total. Everybody went to the enemy's side. Even more, «babies» are zealots of New World Order, they are supporting every ignoble cause, as if they wish to erase from memory their own frondist period. Baby-boom children, amongst a war mongers in first lines. Old, ugly-looking Suzanne Sontag, competing in its ugliness only with Madeleine Albright, is a war monger, asking for more bombs to be thrown on Kosovo's Serbs. Eaten by cancer, operated, gray-haired Fury of war, Sontag just a mad person, mad and repulsive in her madness.

So, baby-boom children grown up into sinister elders. It's a pity that they weren't aborted in due time.

#11(66), June 3–17, 1999

Reflections of western victory over Yugoslavia

The Limonov's X-Files

A lthough activated by spirit of competition and by complex of inferiority, Russian paratroopers have arrived at Pristina — capital of Kosovo — before NATO troops, it's a little consolation. Small unit of Russians crossed border between Bosnia and Serbia and finally stationed its camp near Pristina airport. And what? Will they fight NATO troops? Hell No.Act of weakness and desperation.

It is awfully depressing to watch a NATO victory over Yugoslavia. Eleven weeks of awfully costly bombardments and medium-size country, European, independent, with an experienced, courageous army, is on its knees. Blitzkrieg, however, was made possible by multiple factors:

1). By concentration of military might of Europe and USA against one country,

2). By Western richness,

3). By advanced technologies of armaments,

4). By political isolation of Yugoslavia, as Yeltsin's Russia have abandoned Serbs yet again,

5). By old-fashioned submissive passive defense of Milosevic, who didn't had a guts to transfer a war on Western territory at metro stations of Paris and London and into New York City subway.

It was a war of a gang of richest countries against poor one. War of 21st Century technologies against 20th Century armament. Not that Yugoslavia comparable to African poor states, but it is a country armed with Kalashnikovs, machine guns, and tanks who fought against elegant flying cigars: Mirages, Phantoms, and other Tomahawks.

Aztecs fighting Cortez cavalry have been in better relative position than Serbs. Stupid Russians, we have fought Chechen War using arms that Chechens have chosen. Instead of bombing them from the earth surface, highly from the sky, we run to them in their bloody mountains with machine guns and pistols, face-to-face! So, we killed them, they killed us — in blood, shit and soil we fought.

Westerners, bright as Devils, attacked Serbs from the sky (spending billions of dollars as water!) — cold, unmoved, untouchable, inhuman, as their beloved heroes of Star Wars serial. All Serb courage, years of a war experience, all the abilities of Serb soldiers come to nothing in that kind of war. Serbs have prepared themselves to die in fighting, but what they watched in horror wasn't a war. It was planned, meticulous, made in cold blood destruction of Serb civilization: of their bridges, water reservoirs, electrical stations, of their factories, of all Serb possessions built over centuries! Ex-communist Milosevic didn't get it, but I got it: Westerners are not humans anymore. They are mutants.

What I want to say to Westerners, to those who not yet totally mutant, what I want to say seems so childish, so naive, that I fill shame. But I will put it down on paper, anyway:

1). It is not your fucking business what sovereign country doing on its own territory,

2). It is criminal, when national minority of one country asking big gang of outsiders, such as NATO gang, to come and to fight for them, for their interests,

3). Ganging together of countries in order to put down some country, or to change a political system of such country, should be forbidden. World wars will not occur, if that condition is fulfilled.

4). Globalism, efforts to submit all the countries on earth to Western standards should be condemned as criminal enterprise. Such thing as «Universal Justice» doesn't exist. Westerners are not judges to evaluate, to judge and to punish other countries and nations. Westerners have no monopoly on Universal Truth either. Universal Morality is non-existent, as well as Universal Human Rights.

5). The United States should make law only within the borders of USA. Sit quietly on your national territories, Herrs, Misters, Sirs and Messieurs.

They have achieved victory over Yugoslavia, no doubt. But they also achieved a hate. I doubt that Western governments understand what enormous, unusual hate they have achieved on every piece of earth, what is not Western. Western governments (especially dry Protestant brains of Yankees, of Brits, of Dutch and Germans) believe that everything can be achieved by enforcement, that if forced, freshly conquered, defeated, humiliated nation will live in peace and quiet. They think that they will overthrow Milosevic, and under new pro-Western leader Serbs will be happy to be friends with Westerners. No way, motherfuckers! Serbs never forgave Turks their Kosovo defeat, although six hundred years have passed.

What will finally happened, I know. The West will be overthrown by humiliated barbarians. Outside and within. Once upon a time it was a great Roman Empire. It was mighty, huge and rich. But barbarians always win in the end. So, the Mexicans, Serbs, Iraqis, Russians, others humiliated by you, we will destroy your cities and fuck your women. I have a dream… My dreams are always fulfilled.

«First we'll take Manhattan,
Then we'll take Berlin…»

…as Leonard Cohen sings.

#12(67), June 17 — July 1, 1999

Summer Reflection Dr.Limonov's

The Limonov's X-Files

I hate Moscow. Frozen for eight months per year, dirty, dusty, caserne-like city, located on latitude of Labrador Sea, Moscow should be place of exile, where murderers should be sent for punishment. Instead, it is capital of all Russia. Labrador Sea, in case if someone is badly educated in geography, is sea what waves are polishing the coasts of Greenland and also tenderizing some green icebergs.

Specially disgusting is Moscow in summer. Clad in dirty, old wrinkled asphalt clothes, or worst, in old dry bald grassless soil, it stinks as bum's dirty body. Old roofs are overheated, all walls are sweating away. Closest neighbors of Russians — Germans — have implanted in Russians its architectural gouts: Moscow's buildings are all flat and caserne-like, except seven Stalin's fortresses: Hotel Ukraina and Ministry of Foreign Affairs building are most known among them.

Classical style of caserne: flat long barracks, painted in yellow with a greenish roofs one can observe on Kutusovsky Prospekt. Poor flat barracks scattered by tens of thousands all over Moscow's territory — shabby whitish dirty structures, stuffed with human flesh.

Surprisingly enough, interior decoration of those Russian-German barracks made in Turkish style. When, after 15 years of absence from Russia, I have entered Russian apartments in 1989, I found them totally Turkish. Carpets on the floors hanging from the walls, shadowy oriental lampshades, puffy divans — little of light — all that air of Ottoman Empire made me think of harems of medieval Turks. However, resemblance is not stops there: Russian females (except of those of intelligentsia) are silent, shadowy creatures, bringing food and taking dirty dishes, always serving, silent as a Muslim women. Of course I am not talking about Lame Duck's customers, but in average Russian family woman is Turk. AS to sharp contradiction between German exterior and Turkish interior of Russian life it is no doubt our Russian main problem. Russians are German in appearance and Turks inside.

I said that Moscow is specially disgusting in summertime. Yes, it is. Once, in 1982, I have briefly passed through Mexico City. Mexico City to me looks like hell, stinking and poor and dusty, populated by some 30 million dull creatures. My dear Moscow is closely resembling the hell of Mexico City, as dirty, dusty and unnecessary as it, populated by 15 millions, ten of them poor and stinking, five of them rich scoundrels. In summer Moscow stinks more. When I watch some rotten creatures walking Moscow's streets I am stricken by panic: I breathe the very same air with those!? Terrible!

Then it is a cops problem. For some unknown reason it is over two million of policemen in Russia, probably one million of them in Moscow. Wearing grayish, crumpled uniforms, those sons of poor armed with clubs, machine-guns and pistols are terrorizing general Russian population. They are as dangerous as no enemy's army can possibly be. Everyday they are busy with checking papers of citizens, as well as their pockets and purses. Cops stink — vodka and beer, they are natural disaster. If your friend is late for meeting, be sure he is in the hands of cops. Poor creature, he is sitting in monkey-cage, «obezyannik» in Russian.

Then it is also absence of grass. Specially stricken in this summer. May's frozen temperatures well below zero at night have killed Moscow's weak grass completely. So, like in the move «Mad Max», bald spots of dirty soil, real small deserts inside of Moscow, grow larger and larger. Hot wind blows dirty sand over city deserted courtyards. And the leaves are falling from the trees foliage as last hairs from the heads of Chernobyl victims.

Then it was Pushkin's 200 years anniversary. Awful event, what Moscow suffered and suffering. Curly, Negro-like poet of Old Russia have sucked tons of money out of country and Moscow budget. I am sure that amount of money will be sufficient to implant brand new fresh grass all over Moscow's gardens and courtyards. Of course Pushkin is not guilty of manner in which Russian bureaucrats celebrating his anniversary, but I hate that Pushkin, banalized and dirtied by the sweaty hands of bureaucrats. Even leading cop of all Russia, Sergei Stepashin, have pronounced some lines of Pushkin in staggering voice. Pushkin is club which bureaucrats are beating us, poor Moscow inhabitants.

Then it was also my little girlfriend's Nastya's exams. Six of them. Six exams in a space of one month deprived me of her little cunt. Partly. Most exams are useless. How many times, for example, one needs physics formulas in one's life? For 39 years after finishing school in 1960 I never was in need of even one formula of physics. Never! So, why to stuff those stupid formulas into fresh mind of my little girlfriend? But it's done. Nastya got her school-leaving certificate. Now, Nastya should undergo second set of exams that time for entering university. High education is needed to satisfy her mother's and father's ambitions. As they are simple people, they want their blond, cute, green-eyed prodigal daughter to climb one step higher on the social ladder then them. They don't know, of course, that daughter of theirs in one sole leap have already reached many steps higher place. Because she is fucking me.

Soon Russia will be a frozen land again. Thirty degrees heat will be replaced by thirty degrees cold. I will wear a six or seven T-shirts and shorts and sweaters, and for eight months will dream about next dusty sticky summer.

Why I live in Moscow anyway? The land what I liked most were Tadjik mountains. I have traversed all Central Asia in 1997, I figured out that I adore Tadjik's mountains. I want to live in Tadjik's mountains near River Piankj and to serve in 201st Russian Motorized Division. So, why I live in Moscow? Because my job is here. Russia is overcentralized country and everything political is happening here, in capital. So, I am doing politics here. I hope to succeed. Otherwise it makes no sense to live in such disgusting city.

#13(68), June 27 — July 1, 1999

Memory of underground Moscow's life

The Limonov's X-Files

I have arrived in Moscow on September 30, 1967. With a huge wooden trunk (made in Poland) which contained all my belongings — things necessary for concurring Moscow, few notebooks, contained my poems among them. Train from Kharkov to Moscow have transpierced the night and in the morning I found myself on the platform of Kurski Station of Russian capital. I was dressed in black.

My girlfriend Anna, six years older than me, was sent to Moscow a week before in order to prepare a platz d'arm for concurring Moscow. Anna have met me at Kurski Station. She supposed to rent a room, but she hadn't rented one. So, from Kurski Station we went to meet our Kharkov friends living in Moscow, to put my trunk in their rented room at Kazarmenni Pereulok. Trunk will sleep there. Where will we sleep, we didn't know yet. That's how I started my bohemian life in Moscow. Seven years after, exactly on September 30, but 1974, I left Moscow from Sheremetyevo Airport. Destination: Vienna, Austria.

Those seven years from 1967 until 1974 were for me the years of stormy, creative, very poor life of underground artist. All my days were devoted to writing poetry. I used to write for ten hours per day. Strangely enough, I never tried to publish my poetry in those years…

Finally we have managed to rent a room at Belyaevo region of Moscow. Very restricted amount of money that I brought from Kharkov was carefully divided on monthly allowances. If I remember well, we let ourselves to spend sixty rubles per month. Thirty rubles we paid rent for room, and 30 miserable rubles we would spend on nutrition. SO, we were constantly hungry. For the first year of my Moscow life I have lost eleven kilograms of my weight. In the evenings we would go to visit friends. Our friends were mostly painters.

Moscow of those days was populated by enormous bohemian crowd, divided into dozens of groups. Counter-culture life had flourished. Painters were privileged people in comparison with poets and writers. By Russian law, if members of Union, they were eligible for receiving artistic studios for their works. Very often they made their studio (or «atelier» as we called those places in the basement or in the attics of the old houses) also a place of living. So, almost every evening we went, me and Anna, to studios of our friends. Everybody was poor, so ceremonies of socializing were simple. If you have had money, you would buy a bottle of alcohol. If you don't have any, you went without bottle. Drinking, reciting poetry, discussing art, gossiping, flirting with girls, showing new paintings: that how usual evening in Moscow studio was spent. I frequented studios of painters Anatoly Brussilovsky, Ilya Kabakov, Yevgeny Bachurin, Ulo Suster, Yuri Kuperman. Just recently sculptor Klikov reminded me that my first night in Moscow I have slept in his basement studio on the corner of Sadovoye Koltso and Olympisky Prospekt. I have forgotten that.

Some painters were already known, on their way up, have work as illustrators for famous magazine of that epoch, «Knowledge Is Power» (Znanie — Sila). Some frequented foreigners and sell their pictures to foreigners, as Brussilovsky did. So Brussilovsky's «evenings» in his studio were «chic», girls were prettier, booze was foreign, sometimes even foreigners were present.

Some painters of that epoch are now famous and wealthy people as Ilya Kabakov or Yuri Kuperman, living in the West. Klikov is famous in Russia, his Zhukov sitting on horse near Red Square. Homeless was and is now Vladimir Yakovlev, short-sighted, gnome-like man, naive, original painter, traveling from one psychiatric asylum to another. Homeless were Zverev and Igor Voroshilov, close friends of mine, both dead now. Nowadays Zverev's pictures sold for a big money. When he was alive, back in the time, he would sell a picture for a bottle of vodka.

Restaurants were out of my reach of course, clubs didn't exist. High class entertainment was considered to visit foreigners' apartments, to be invited to «John» or «Walter». When in 1972 to the post of Ambassador of Venezuela was appointed Mr.Burelli, bohemia life in Moscow became a paradise. Poet himself, wealthy man, Burelli modernized his embassy life. In a short time he was a friend with many underground poets and painters, and most important, he invited underground crowd to all parties at his embassy.

With my new wife beautiful Elena we were preferred guests of Venezuelan Embassy. Once, I remember I left embassy so drunk that I fell to the boots of guarding militia officer. Late in October 1973 I paid dearly for my insolence, for a courage to frequent foreign embassy, but for a year me and Elena enjoyed embassy's parties: flowers, silver candlestick, exotical music, exotical food and drinks. Once, among the guests at hospitable building on Proezd Ermalova, we met an American Indian — looking student of Lumumba University. With him and his friend we started a heated political discussion at embassy, then, when party was over, we walked Moscow streets and talked until sunrise. Some years later, living in the West, I have recognized my one night's friend American Indian-looking student by photo in newspaper. First page photo, because his name was «Carlos» or Ilych Ramirez Sanchez.

Moscow of 1967–1974 deserves many books, not a few pages Limonov's memoir. Just few more lines. In 1972 I was translating with a help of Austrian friend a poetry of Trakl, Austrian mystical poet-expressionist of First World War period. My friend Gunter introduced me to another Austrian living in Moscow, to Liza Yvary, secretary of embassy, member of Socialist Party. With a language of socialist ideas I inherited from Liza when she left Russia in 1973, I inherited also a huge chunk of hashish. Liza brought me that chunk from the voyage to Afghanistan. So we smoked it, Elena, and our friends.

#14(69), July 15–29, 1999

My american heroes: Osvald and Manson

The Limonov's X-Files

When John Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas on November 22, 1963, in full view of television audience of whole world, I was a steel worker, working at Kharkov's factory «Hammer and Sickle». On night shift, eating our lunch, I remember, we have discussed that television drama. We, I mean our brigade, our team, was consisted of youngsters, mixed with a dozen of ex-convicts converted to a hard-working fathers of numerous families. Elders of brigade were on Kennedy's side, young workers, we were fascinated by Lee Harvey Oswald, especially by the fact, that Oswald have lived and worked in Russia. Somehow, we felt connected to that shouting in Dallas, Oswald haven't he worked, as we work, at a factory in Minsk?

Following days new episodes of Dallas drama been transmitted to the whole world, Oswald, ex-Marine and pro-Russian Marxist sympathizer was in his turn shot dead at Dallas Police Headquarters by a gangster, nightclub propietor, Jack Ruby. We were stupefied. At night, eating our lunch amongst metal chaos of our shop, we got into very heated discussion, started by a head of a shop unions' committee, who came to lecture us on Kennedy's assassination subject. He said that Kennedy was shot by reactionary forces of America. My friend Yuri, Yurka, replied that Oswald have married Russian girl Marina Prussakova, that he have worked at Minsk's factory, so how can he possibly be a representative of reactionary forces, he obviously represents Revolutionary forces…

Later, my liking of Oswald have grown in proportions. Restless, unstable, adventurer, seeker of truth, Oswald was and is more sympathetic for me than offspring of Massachusetts millionaire family, Harvard graduated lucky golden boy John Kennedy. I always liked losers.

Then in 1968 (I was already living in Moscow, the life of counter-culture poet) America produced not a one, but a series of dramatical murders: Robert Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Manson's family killings. As a giant factory of murders, America worked well in 1968. As I have lived in Moscow disordered life of counter-culture poet, Manson's family mystified me, put a spell on me.

Charles Manson, musician, Christ-looking little man, become most known, glorious personality of hippie movement. As all American great stories are born by murder, Manson's story is also been born by murders. He personally didn't kill anybody, but Manson's family have killed some insignificant people: couple of Polish drug dealers, Roman Polanski's perverted wife Sharon Tate, few Hollywood idlers. So, Manson have everything that great American drama is required: murder (few), some mystery (his strange adventures in Mojave Desert), some sex deviations (he had his harem of teenage girls), his songs. I heard some Manson's music («The Way Of The Wolf» album), it's not bad at all. But as Hitler is declared «bad painter,» so Manson, worldly known for Manson's Family killings, is declared musician-loser. But it's bullshit. Hitler was a very good water-colorist, he was also a good designer of Volkswagen and Mercedes-Benz. Manson is a good musician. Only both of them some day have switched to another professions.

When I think about Great Americans of my time I think about those fascinating characters: about Oswald and Manson. As to harm, what they did, they look like a babies in comparison with a John Kennedy. American supported invasion to Cuba, thousands dead at Bay of Pigs, first American involvement in Vietnam — all those murders done by Kennedy, beloved John Kennedy. If one counts Cuban Missile Crisis, what have put entire world to the brink of nuclear war, what an irresponsible, egotistical shmack that golden boy Johnny Kennedy was.

Self-made heroes, children of ordinary American, Oswald and Manson are real heroes of American Dream, forever they took their places in the Hall of Glory.

#16(71), August 12–26, 1999

Copying the european monkeys

The Limonov's X-Files

From the time of Peter the Great, Russia is copying Europe. That copying process has costed us a lot of blood, probably enormous millions of liters of blood every century. Construction of only one city of St. Petersburg on the Baltic coast in the midst of swamps, so-called «Window to Europe,» been paved by hundreds of thousands of lifes. Citizens have died of malaria and hard labor to satisfy European dream of tzar, who wanted to have his own Amsterdam! Our tzars have carefully copied European militarism, capitalism, and colonialism. Our revolutionaries have chosen to copy European anarchism and socialism and finally Marxism. Eventually Russia even surpassed the West: we constructed socialist dream. We never wanted to be ourselfs. We always wanted to be Westerners.

Nowadays is not different from good old days. In 1985, Gorbachev, guided by Mr. Yakovlev (USSR's ambassador to Canada), long-time admirer of West have started global changements in structure of socialist society, called «perestroika.» Yakovlev and Gorbachev have been excited by Western values: human right, freedom of press, etc. So, fourteen years later, Russia, having lost one third of its territory with a half of its population is living in bloody mess. But even harsh lesson of perestroika haven't stopped Russian from copying the West.

Sudden and bloody invasion of Mr. Putin's armed forces into Chechnya are obviously copied from NATO's bombardment of Kosovo. Obviously very impressed by cold-blooded European murderers from the sky, Russian generals are happily working on Mr. Putin's promotional presidential campaign. «Piar» [Ed.--that is, public relations], is a la mode, much used word on Russian territory. «Piarshchik» is highly fashionable profession. All the girls now wants to meet «piarshchik» and marry such man. Bloody «piar» in going on steadily, slowly, in pace with translation from English (as Russian generals don't read English) of details of NATO's Kosovo operation.

From 1990 Russia is being introduced to Western model of «free elections.» Our «chinovniks» (functionaries) immediately felt in love with a free elections. Unfortunately for free elections and for general population. By 1999, Russian «chinovniks» have adapted free elections to Russian needs completely. In other words, they are looking like an election in Auschwitz concentration camp, or GULAG if you wish. They surpassed their Western colleagues by sadism, tenacity, and religious belief in its values. It is enough to watch on television Mr. Veshnyakov, head of Central Electoral Commission, to understand that man is sick, that he needs a psychiatric help as soon as possible. Because he is deciding who going to be allowed to participate in «free election,» who is going to be forbidden to participate, Mr. Veshnyakov is sick with its own importance. His voice is charged with psychotic force, with sadistic details he is counting nondeclared cars, bicycles, undeclared thousands of rubles. Non-finished garage was reason for non-registration for elections of ex-minister Mr. Mikhailov. Not that anybody regrets ex-minister, fuck him, but why non-finished garage or two thousand undeclared rubles (less than $100!) should be a reason for non-participation of that or another individual or a party in elections? For a Christ sake, we live in country known for its monstrous corruption! Bank of New York scandal alone is concerning 7 billion dollars!

A masterpiece of hypocrisy, «Electoral Law of 1999» is allowing to get rid of every candidate, as candidate or entire party can be accused on eighteen different counts! Suddenly very important participants of 1999 elections are Ministry of Interior (controlling criminal records), FSB (other records), and even Road Police! Former Small Business Minister and now ally of Borises Nemtsov and Fyodorov in so-called «Pravoye Delo» [Just Cause], Irina Khakamada have had an old car of her husband registered (after «piar,» «register» and «registration» is highly popular words in Kafka's country of Russia) under her name. So, Electoral Commission have threatened to exclude her. As Khakamada is liberal politician she was left alone. If she was a kind of Makashov in skirt, she wouldn't be allowable in elections. One wonders what the world thinking about us Russians, watching all those electoral perversions and pornography? I bet, electoral perversions they think we are born idiots, with soft brains!

The most shameful thing about that sadistic selection--that it is a performance, spectacle, made to hide a few open dirty secrets.

First Dirty Secret: From a list of 132 All-Russia political organizations, only ten or twelve are real organizations. Other 120 are fakes, nonexistent, «virtual.» Virtual is «Spas» [Savor], headed by Mr. Davidenko, who gave a first place in «Spas» electoral list to [Russian National Unity head] Alexander Barkashov. Also virtual is «Conservative Movement of Russia,» headed by old dissident Mr. Uboiko. How come?

By Russian law, political organization can be registered as «All-Russian» if it has local organizations in not less than forty-five from eighty-nine regions of Mother Russia. Mr. Davidenko and Mr. Uboiko have a difficulty to get together three or five people, not speaking of forty-five local organizations. When applied for registration they have submitted to Ministry of Justice a lists of Dead Souls, falsified ones. (Note to reader: All-Russia registration is mandatory for participation of block in Parliamentary Elections.) Ministry of Justice perhaps have known about that, perhaps not--anyway, both parties were considered harmless, as «Spas» registered itself without Barkashov. Different fate is given to them now by Central Electoral Commission. «Conservative Movement of Russia» is registered for elections because Mr. Uboiko is harmless and eccentric old man whose movement will take some votes from opposition parties. «Spas» ambitions will be killed on November 2, because Mr. Barkashov is not harmless old man, instead portrayed by media as «Russian Fascist.»

[Editor's note: In what seemed to be a last minute glitch, the Electoral Commission actually registered the Barkashov-headed «Spas,» declaring the block to be in «full compliance with all applicable laws.» As this issue went to print, Justice Minister Yuri Chaika was vowing to bar the block from participating via the Supreme Court, while the Electoral Commission in turn was seeking to refer Chaika's motion to a lower court. Rumors and blatant hypocrisy run ever more rampant, but we still say there's not a chance in hell that «Spas» will be allowed to run in the Parliamentary elections with Barkashov at the top of their candidate list.]

Second Dirty Secret: By Electoral Law, 200,000 signatures have to be collected in order to participate in elections. With possible exception of Communist Party of the Russian Federation, most of so-called «All-Russia» political organizations have bought a computer database of citizens' names and signatures for copying by their activists into registration petitions. This because a task to collect 200,000 is impossible for an organization with a few dozens of activists. Sad picture.

Wanting to become Europeans, we are becoming cheaters, rip-off artists, falsificators. It is better to be ourselfs: nice, open, honest, violent as we are, close brothers of Asian tribesmen, of Kazakhs, Tadjiks, or Uzbeks. We should stop to make a monkey of ourselfs.

#22(77), November 5–18, 1999

Dr. Limonov's abortion law

The Limonov's X-Files

It is an open secret that Russia's population is declining. 146 millions it is now, but it was 150 only few years ago. Reasons for depopulation of Russia are many, such as: poverty, low wages, insecurity, psychological unstability of Russian society, etc. But it seems to me that main reason for a lack of babies on Russian soil is absence of desire for babies amongst Russian girls. That absence of desire to become a mother concerns all parts of population, but Russian city-girls are obviously ahead. Examples are numerous. My ex-girlfriend Liza once counted that ten years after finishing school only two of her nineteen female classmates have had married and only one had a baby. One baby for 19 girls in ten years! Chechens and other Caucasian men call our Russian girls «prostitutes». Apart from some uncorrect use of word «prostitute», I am agree with Chechens. Contemporary Russian girl is pleasure-seeker, she has no enthusiasm for creating a family. Strangely enough, she is attached strongly to her parents' family and receiving all necessary human warmth from it. But she doesn't want to have her own family. She is easy-going as it concerns sexual contacts with a men, she may honestly fall in love every week, or at least once a month, she may easily settle to live with her chosen man, but babies — oh no! She will choose an abortion, if pregnant. To Russian girl babies are dirty, stinking, squirming creatures who piss and shit and who will eat up her own life. Female village dwellers are little bit less anti-children but it is less and less villages in Russia.

Why is it so? My opinion that all Russian culture, or to be exact both cultures, high and popular, are not family-oriented, they are love-oriented. It is enough to count in how many Russian films or novels author deals with a family. Maxim Gorky's Mother deals with a revolution. Dostoevsky's novels deals with all kinds of unhappy, crazy creatures, but no family life in it. Leon Tolstoy's War and Peace only in the end of that enormous work give to us a glimpse of family life of Pierre Bezukhov and Natasha Rostova, portraying it… with disgust! Natasha is wearing dirty night gown, she is pregnant and ugly because of her pregnancy. Anna Karenina married to older man have unhappy family life, ended by suicide. For comparison, American culture is traditionally family-oriented. Hero goes to frontier to kill the Indians, to meet a girl and to start a family. Even contemporary American horror movies have happy small town family background. Russian culture glorify LOVE. Dostoevsky's women are prostitute Sonitchka Marmeladova, call-girl Nastassya Filippovna (OK, she was a kept woman), Tolstoy's adulteress Anna Karenina. I, Edward Limonov, is no exception — my books are also populated by such women. Elena of «It's Me, Eddie» is adulterous, childless pleasure-seeker.

That is why only handful of children can be seen in Russian city parks and gardens. That is why our population is rapidly declining. By Kairo's demographical conference statistics, 4 million of abortions have been done every year in Russia. That is not in statistic, but sadly enough, ugly pregnant girls usually kept pregnancy and have babies. Beautiful girls choose an abortions.

In 1995 National-Bolsheviks Party have produced project of law prohibiting abortions. It said:

«Others opposition parties only complaining and crying. National-Bolsheviks Party proposing concrete solution to low birthrate of Russians».

«We all know that we Russians are dying. For a numerous years mortality amongst Russians have overpowered natality, nation is shrinking catastrophically. That is the fault of capitalist revolution, who have thrown majority of Russians into poverty. But also guilty are Russians themselves: men and women, cowards, refusing to have a babies. We know that today in Russian hospitals are made four million of abortions — pre-meditated murders, per year. Conclusion may be the only one: In the situation when Russians are dying, an abortion permitted to be done by Russian woman is not only moral and physical crime against human being, but is a crime against Russian nation».

«We are demanding from Government to prohibit abortions! We are demanding from timid Russian Church to rise its voice for prohibition of abortions. We are demanding from a State Duma to vote for a law to ban abortions to Russian women. We also demanding that already today the doctors would be obliged to give to local newspapers the lists of women who have undergone an abortions, in order to be punished. Punishment for first abortion would be: boycott and psychological pressure at their place of work and by their neighbors, the wages of those who undergone first abortion should be sliced in half by their employers. Second abortion should be punished by imprisonment. Exceptions should be made only for uncurably sick women, for victims of rape and for those women with hereditary and mental diseases. We demand to prohibit abortions immediately!»

Five years after I am signing that text again with my both hands. If individuals are irresponsible because of negative influence of culture, it is reasonable for a state to correct society with a proper law. Of course, it is a breach of a human rights of individuals. And so what? When Nation is dying, human rights of individual should be neglected. And what about the rights to live for babies. You, bitch, have killed your baby — Russian citizen. So, go to prison. It is fair.

#23(78), November 18 — December 2, 1999

Insurrection, Cossakst style

The Limonov's X-Files

Late October, 1999. Novosibirsk. In newspaper «Novaya Sibir» published in city of Novisibirsk, provincial capital of Novosibirsk Region bordering with Kazakhstan, was published huge article called «Confession of Russians Terrorists». Somebody named as Sergei and his two friends talked about preparation of armed insurrection in the city Ust-Kamenogorsk — capital of Eastern Kazakhstan. According to them, the chief of inssurection is Victor Pugachov, who supposedly is colonel of GRU (Russian military intelligence) and was an intelligence officer working in Western Europe. Sergei stated that he saw at Pugachov's apartment in Moscow (Novaya Sibir give even Moscow's address of Pugachov, only with slightly disguised number of building: Ulitsa Akademika Vargi No.2) photographs of Pugachov, in different capitals of Western Europe. Among them, stated Sergei, a photograph of Pugachov with Alessandra Mussolini, a grand daughter of Benito Mussolini. The task of Pugachov, said Sergei, was to infiltrate leftists radical political movements, including famous Red Brigades. According to Sergei, Pugachov's group consisted of eight men charged with recruitment, plus close associates of Pugachev indicated as «his right-hand», went to supposed rebel republic of Eastern Kazakhstan with a goal to organize armed inssurection there.

Novemeber 19. City of Urst-Kamenogorsk. Alma-Atinskaya Ultisa. Office of tourist firm «Avio-Trek-Policy» is attacked by 30 supermen of group «ARTISAN», Kazakh's equivalent of group «Alfa». ARTISAN arrived from Astana, Kazakhstan's capital by air. About twenty men found in office Avio-Trek-Policy are arrested. Amongst them Victor Pugachov (Kasimirchuk, according to his passport), Chernishov, Alexander Dashkov, Albert Rogaev, Mikhail Matisch. Siezed weapons: 270 rounds of ammunitino for Kalashnikov, 14 bottles of Molotov Cocktails, and one hand grenade F-1. Few more men been arrested elsewhere. Twenty-two men been placed into interrogative prison (SIZO) of Ust-Kamenogorsk.

November 23. Moscow. Radio Moscow announced about event in Ust-Kamenogorsk. Press-officer of FSB Zdanovich declared that FSB have known about preparation of insurrection with a goal to unite Eastern Kazakhstan region with Russia. Zdanovich also stated that twelve of arrested men are Russian citizens. Zdanovich said that FSB immediately send information about prepared «putsch» to KNB (Kazakhstan National Defense Committee). Poor devils wanted to create «Republic of Russ».

November 23, evening. Somebody called Alexander Borisovich telephoned me. He said that group of Russian lads wanted to snatch part of Kazakhstan. They had a few bases in Russia. That their leader Pugachov (Kazimirchuk) fought at Yugoslavia and Transdniestr. They got arrested because «one of yours», Sergei Svoikin, and two others gave an interveiw to a newspaper in Novosibirsk. I said, Svoikin I know. But he never was one of ours. He just attended few of our open-for-public gatherings. But yes, he passed himself for a member of National-Bolsheviks Party, for his purposes of a small crook. In our internal party publication NBP-INFO we even warned our regional organizations: Some Cossak named Svoikin traveling all over Russia, passing himself for a member of NBP. He cheated Saint-Petersburg's, Nizhny Novgorod's National-Bolsheviks on money, he also lived in Ufa, where he passed himself as «a right hand of E. Limonov.» Throw him off and beat him up! Bald, about 35, always slightly drunk, all what I remember about Svoikia.

In 1997 when party group went to Kazakhstan, he wanted to go with us. I said «No.» He went himself with one of ours — underaged boy, but got stuck somwhere in Volgograd.

November 24. Moscow. Prime Minister Putin said, «That event in Ust-Kamenogorsk is not a big-scale event.»

In midday, I spoke to … let us call him «analyst», specialist of Kazakhstan. Analyst said, «Kazimirichuk-Pugachov never fought in Yugoslavia or Trandniestr, not speaking of him to be colonel of GRU. Those are fables. He is slightly mad. But amongst arrested are many good people, like Chernishov (ex-press secretary of Cossakis group of Ataman Filin), some belonging to student's circles of Ust-Kamenogorsk, aged 17–18 teenagers. For now, all Kazakhstan's citizens are released but assigned do not leave a city, except Dashkov. From 10 to 12 people are remaining under arrest. As to calling them 'Russian citizens', it is not appropriate term. By protest they never got Kazakhstan's citizenship, so they remained citizens of USSR. FSB delivered conspirators to KNB. Now Victor Pugachov, Chernishov, Albert Rogaev, Mikhail Matisch are accused of incitement to a violent change of political system, traffic of weapons, etc.»

November 26. President Nazarbaev called Ust Kamenogorsk's event «Pure criminal event, what has no political underlining.»

November 26. Analyst states: «Ust-Kamenogorsk conspiracy happens just right before Nazarbayev's visit to the United States. One year moratorium of USA for economical ehlp to Kazakhstan further damaged ruined economy of Kazakhstan. So, now Nazarbaev will arguing egive me a money, I will stop Russian nationalist danger.» That is also local interests involved. Mr.Tataev, deputy-akim («akim» means governor) of Easter Kazakhstan Region is dying to take place of akin in present occupied by Mr.Mette (of course German). So that was a Tataev who acted locally, in contact with Alnur Musaev, a head of Kazakhstan's KNB. As to genuine desire of Russian population of Ust-Kamenogorsk to escape from Nazarbaev despotical rule is no doubt about that. 92% of Ust-Kamenogorsk population is Russian. In 1994 happened much more seirous attempt of insurrection in Ust-Kamenogorsk, passed unnoticed by the world. Nazarbaev is a good friend of Yeltsin. They met when both worked at Central Committee of Communist Party.

#24(79), December 12–26, 1999

My 1999

The Limonov's X-Files

On St. Sylvester's Day of 1998 about fifty of us, members of National-Bolshevik's Party, have staged picket near Ministry of Justice entrance. The day was cold. From time to time some Mercedeses would arrive and leave at the door some pot-bellied bureaucrat, carrying New Year's present to Minister or to some high-ranking official of Ministry. We saw some Gucci's and Armani's bags. We hated Minister Krasheninnikov. He killed our political future, because he denied a All-Russia registration for a National-Bolshevik's Party.

So, that is how my 1999 started. By hate of that sucker Minister.

Then on January 30, my boys went to Congress of Gaidar's party. Democratical Choice of Russia thirteen of them against more than one thousand of democrats. The brawl occurred. When the next day I went out to buy a newspapers, seven out of nine newspaper I bought published a story about that fight at Congress of Democratical Choice of Russia. Democrats claimed a great victory of one thousand against thirteen teenagers.

The year went by in slow motion. Ordinary year of police state. On February 20, at about noon, commando of National-Bolsheviks have distributed leaflets at Radisson-Slavyanskaya Hotel, just before a presentation of The Barber of Siberia for journalists. Leaflet stated that Nikita Mikhalkov, famous movie director, is friend of butcher of Kazakhstan President Nazarbaev. Leaflet named twenty or so victims of Nazarbaev's tyranny: some details were blood-chilling, as Elena Savchenko's story: she was raped by Nazarbaev's policemen, and was forced to dig a grave as if for herself in order to get her to betray her comrades. Miikhalkov have a guts to call himself Russian patriot, stated leaflet, but he is liar. So, that how we started to ruin Mikhalkov's reputation on that very day. In that time Russian society talked about possibility of Russia Mikhalkov's competing for Presidency of Russia. Few hours later, same day, my boys have found on staircase heading to our headquarters a box, containing 15 or so bottles of Molotov cocktails. Smart boys have smelled a rat, so they quickly delivered a box to neighboring police station. Just in time as twenty minutes after, a criminal police have raided National-Bolshevik's Party headquarters on 2nd Frunzenskaya Street, on pretext that some passerby saw an armed men in our premises. No weapons been found of course. It was police provocation, they even invited few television cameras, and people from news agencies, that how they been sure of themselves. In my newspaper Limonka I have accused Minister of Internal Affairs Sergei Stepashin of provocation on behalf of his friend Mikhalkov.

On March 10, two of my boys Gorshkov and Bakhur have thrown eggs at Mikhalkov. They been detained on March 13, Gorshkov and Bakhur have been transferred to Butyrka Prison. Then it was a story of struggle for their liberation. Gorshkov was liberated a month later, Bukhur have stayed in Butirka for four months. Step by step even our enemies were outraged by Mikhalkov's behavior. Some ugly details, as a video showing Russian patriot Mikhalkov, with his book kicking into face of Russian boy Dmitri Bakhur, were published even by «Kommersant» and «Novaya Gazeta». Today, nobody would elect Mikhalkov as president or even deputy. In July, Bakhur was liberated from horrible Butirka prison.

Then on August 17 and 18, Taganski judge have confirmed decision of Ministry of Justice: National-Bolshevik's have no right for a status of all-Russia party, so we were deprived a right to participate in parliamentary election. But political party have to do something, so we did. On August 24, fifteen or ours have landed in occupied by Ukraine city of Sevastopol, have seized a tower of Marin's Club, and keeped it in sign of protest against Ukrainian occupation of Sevastopol. They been arrested and to the day that I am writing that very list of our exploits, they are behind the bars of Simferopol's prison. As we know, the deal was made between Russia's Foreign Minister Ivanov and his Ukrainian colleague to liberate our boys. But thanks to Russian General's prosecutor's office our comrades are behind the bars, because obviously General Prosecutor's office have in mind to punish fifteen heroes for their crime of patriotical disobedience.

On October 27, in St. Petersburg, was detained a leader of St. Petersburg's party organization Andrei Grebnev. He was accused of participation in beating up. He denied accusation, but despite all the evidences Grebnev was transferred to «Kresti,» macabre St. Petersburg's prison. He still there denied a lawyer's help.

On December 18, a leader of party organization of Vladimirski Region, Nina Silina, tiny girl of 21 years old, was attacked at train station of city of Kovrov. She was severely beaten by unknown man. When on the ground, Nina was kicked in her face with a boots.

On December 27, Dmitri Bakhur was hospitalized in his native city of Zaporozhie with a temperature of 40 degrees Celsius, his diagnosis: tuberculosis. Tuberculosis he contracted in Butyrka's cell. Thank you Mister Mikhalkov, we will not forgive you and Mr. Stepashin.

So, that is the short list of exploits of National-Bolshevik's Party in 1999. I could made a much longer list, but what is obvious: we live here in police state. And police state will go together with us in year 2000.

#1(81), January 20 — February 2, 2000

Putin and Zhirinovsky

The Limonov's X-Files

As presidential elections are approaching in Russia, foreign journalists are deeply digging past life of Putin Vladimir. Some details are interesting and revealing. Like for example almost immediate failure of young Putin in Bonn. In 1975 graduated from Leningrad's University law school twenty-three years old Volodya was employed by KGB. His first assignment was to Bonn, then capital of West German state. Putin went there undercovered as supposedly journalist of Russian news agency TASS. Unmasked by Germans as a spy, Putin was evacuated to East Germany. It is worth to explain that such a failure have had in those years an enormous negative impact on life of unfortunate agent. That failure made of Putin «neviezdnoi» — in other words from now on Putin was forever known for western intelligence services as a Russian spy, KGB officer. So it was a dead end of agent's career, it was no sense in sending him to work abroad, except to some fraternal countries of socialist bloc.

Another Vladimir, Zhirinovsky, have had a similar flop from beginning of his career in 1969. Graduated from Institute of Eastern Languages (traditionally patronized by KGB), Zhirinovsky went to Turkey to practice his language abilities and was arrested, as he tried to convert Turkish workers to communist faith. That is a lot of similarities in biographies of those two man of same generation. (Zhirinovsky was born in 1946, Putin was born in 1952.) In 1975 just from the beginning unlucky Putin was forever placed into category of losers. In following years Vladimir Putin have had a slow motion life of bureaucrat, paper-worker in Leipzig and Dresden. His insignificance was ironically underlined when after 13 years in service Major Putin have received a bronze medal from East German Ministry of Internal Affairs. Taken out of sport context, bronze medal sounds like a bad joke when placed in context of Ministry of Interior.

In the West, where letters «KGB» were always surrounded by some mystical horror, Putin's appointment to highest place of power in Russia was met with fear. For Russians it is rather enigmatic event that fearful one.

Two years after receiving ironical present of East Germans Putin left KGB. In 1990 he is in Leningrad, employed as helper to rector of Leningrad University. Putin helps in «international affairs». So insignificant, so small that job, even for a bronze medallist. But in May 1990, Mr. Sobchak is elected Chairman of Soviet of Leningrad. Actually from that very moment Sobchak becomes a master of Leningrad. In 1970-75, when Putin was a student at Leningrad University, Sobchak taught him a law. In 1990 Sobchak placed his ancient pupil as his own advisor.

According to Spanish newspaper «Vanguardia» (just published week ago) exactly in 1990 Putin was accused of financial crime by Leningrad's Soviet, exactly an institution which had a Sobchak as a chairman. Putin was involved in operation of purchase in the West of a food supplies for Leningrad. The foreign currency dollars were paid by Leningrad government, but food never came. We don't know how Sobchak have saved his advisor from prison, but Putin survived. (It is most likely that Putin acted on behalf of Sobchak, who later spend few years in Paris, fleeing an accusation of corruption.) When in June 1991 Sobchak was elected mayor of Leningrad, Putin was appointed as a Chief of Committee for Foreign Affairs of Mayor.

Zhirinovsky's life from 1969 was as dull as Putin's life after 1975. Working as law-consultant at «Mir» publishing house, Zhirinovsky was seated in the same tiny room with other employees. Surrounded by rubbish heaps and garages, publishing house «Mir» was located behind Rizhsky Vokzal. Place for losers, no future place. (In 1994, writing a book «Limonov Against Zhirinovsky», I have visited place; it is awful.) After twenty years of that «gallery», in 1989 Zhirinovsky made his first bold social step: he presented his candidature to elections for publishing house director. He got only 5% of votes. In March 1990 Zhirinovsky founded LDPR together with his roommate in «Mir», Stanislav Zhebrowsky. As a chairman of a Liberal Democratic Party, Zhirinovsky participated in presidential elections in 1991 (it is no doubt for now that he worked for and was paid on behalf of Yeltsin's rival, Nikolai Ryzhkov). That very year Zhirinovsky becomes known nation-wide. Thus both men went to compete for power same year, blessed for adventurers and losers, in 1990. Lot of a scam came to the surface in Russia that year. In difference from screaming, public, obscene Zhirinovsky, Putin is the knight of bureaucracy and dim corridors. He is bureaucrat par excellence. He was practically out of sight of public until July 25, 1998, when by ukaz of Yeltsin he was appointed the head of the FSB.

Now, about his face. Supposed mystery of Putin is no mystery at all. He is simply reserved and silent as a small employee should be. He had learned to be reserved and silent because he obtained a habit of subordinate man: shuttup and listen, when colonel, general, Sobchak, Yeltsin talks. Putin's politics of bureaucrat proved to be much more successful than Zhirinovsky's public screams.

#2(82), Fabruary 3–16, 2000

Sadness of being number one

The Limonov's X-Files

Dr. Limonov’s Megalomaiac’s Complaints

So-called «Russian Liberal Intelligentsia» long time ago have excluded me from the world of literature. They are behaving like I am not existing, maybe dead, maybe never born. It is interesting phenomenon, the only one other such case that I know is case of Jean Genet. When I established myself in Paris in 1980 I was surprised by total absence of that great writer from social and literary life of France. He wasn’t mentioned in newspapers, no literary critic would write an essay about Genet. I asked my editors and my friends about Genet, is he alive, is he in Paris? Nobody could say with precision that he is living in Paris. They say that according to some rumors he lives in some cheap hotel, populated by Arabs, somewhere near Montmartre. But I never succeeded in tracing him. Then he died, and suddenly every newspaper been talking about Genet, even bureaucrats of Ministry of Culture started to worship him. I remember that I wrote his obituary for French communist newspaper «Revolution». Foreigner, I wrote about foreigner amongst the French. Later I understand that all fault of Genet was that he was not politically correct. He supported «Black Panthers», he supported struggle of Palestinian people for its own state, and so on… He rejected silly mode of thinking of his time. So he was living like in quarantine barrack, like a dangerously sick person, isolated from the world.

I also live in my country isolated, as I am dangerously ill person. If I am mentioned in some context by journalist he always excusing himself adding something like, «Of course now Limonov turned bad, but…» My colleagues-writers are looking through me. Because I am presumably dead or never born, it’s easy for them to get their stupid «Booker» and «anti-Booker» prizes, to quarrel at literary cocktails who is number one in Russian literature, to seduce girls… [But it also well known, that the best girls are fucking bandits, businessmen and politicians. So, here I am superior to my colleagues-writers, because as a head of political organization I have better and younger girls than they have.] It was only one man whose literary talent I have measured as big one, although different from mine and less original than mine, Joseph Brodsky. But Brodsky have died shortly after his readers died. His readers, that quiet Soviet men, have died somewhere between 1986 and 1991. So Brodsky wasn’t needed anymore, that is why he died. I feel little bit lonely because of his absence, I even wrote a poem about how am I lonely without him in the world. It goes like that:

«Died even Brodsky, my antipode and rival.
Nobody is here to look at me.
I left alone.»

So I am bored without Brodsky. As a politician I compete with Barkashov, but I guess I am winning that competition. In 1992 I have envied Zhirinovsky, but during these eight years Zhirinovsky steadily getting smaller and commonplacer (sorry for such English), that jerk is licking ass to the government. So Mark Ames wasn’t right when he wrote four or five years ago that Zhirinovsky is punkier than Limonov. No way, Mark, I am leader of eight thousand strong young revolutionary party, while Zhirinovsky is leader of 17 corrupted pot-bellied deputies of State Duma. My faction had it places in prisons, for the moment, 18 members of National Bolsheviks Party are behind the bars. Zhirinovsky is a jerk, point. I hope you now will agreed with me, Mark?

I always wanted to be a number one. But now, when I am number one, probably most interesting personality and of course most interesting writer of my country, now approaching 57, I am rather sad. Because I need the rival eyes watching me. Brodsky was a Master, we lived through complicated love-hate relationships. He didn’t like my book «It’s Me, Eddie», but envied pages of «Diary of a Loser». I envied his «Ode to Zhukov». When in 1998 my «Anatomy of a Hero» came out I physically needed Brodsky to read that book. Or somebody like Brodsky. But he was lying in the soil of city of Venice. Why you left me, Joseph? By the way, we both wrote about Venice, my book, «The Death of Modern Heroes» is better than his classical delights about that rotten city-museum. He wasn’t very bright, Joseph, but he was a Master, he could appreciate, he could feel. It is rather rare occurrence, The Master, so who the fuck will read me?

Though, Korchinki will read me! Ukrainian poet, adventurer and soldier, Dmitro Korchinksi was founder and leader of Ukrainian Nationalist Organization UNA-UNSO in 1990-97. I met him in April 1999 in Moscow, then last October some comrades from Kiev have sended me his book «Man in the Crowd». Book is about wars and his party struggle, that is some philosophical reflections in it. I read it with a great pleasure, and understanding. Because it is a book of a free man, cynical and beautiful. Look, what he wrote about Transdniestr: «All of us, organizers and participants of that war made a great mistake. It was necessary to riot regions of Odessa and Moldova, to announce that Transdniestr is a land and refuge of Revolution. To our sorrow was materialized banal separatist idea.» I agree with him. I took part in a war in Transdniestr. Sometimes he and I were on other sides of a same war as in Abkhazia. I participated in the battle for Shromi, where Ukrainians were fighting on Georgian side and Russians and Chechens on Abkhazian side. My enemy Korchinksi will read me. If he will survive, because he is wanted by the Ukrainian authorities. Me also, from March 1996.

#3(83), Fabruary 17 — March 1, 2000

By the hate of Motherland

The Limonov's X-Files

Everybody’s talking about Babitsky’s cause. Mrs. Albright, Yavlinsky, Putin, French Senate, «bomzhi» on Kievsky train station. So I want to talk about him also. I have things to say. I met Andrei Babitsky in late summer 1999, just before Chechen invasion in Dagestan. We both were invited to participate in talk show, some make believe court proceeding. Widow of well-known dissident Kronid Yubarsky filled tele-law suit against Mr. Govorukhin’s Parliament Commission findings on first Chechen War. Mrs. Yubarski have accused Govorukhin of libeling Mr. Yubarski’s good name. According to Yubarski’s widow Govorukhin had claimed that Yubarski took Chechen’s side during war, that he wasn’t objective in his writings on the subject and was probably paid off by Chechens. Babitsky participated as widow’s witness of course, I participated in tele-drama as a Govorukhin’s witness, of course. Govorukhin himself wasn’t present, he was represented by Mr. Semago. Mr. Sergei Kovolev was also available, as well as Major Ismailov, known «exchanger» of Chechens on Russian hostages.

When it was my turn to testify and I took a witness stand, Babitsky suddenly interrupted my testimony. He was seating just behind witness stand in the first row. He said, «You, Limonov, should shut up, because you have taken arms, while working as a journalist.» Babitsky also screamed, «It was easy to you to fire at innocent women and children…» He sounded very personal to me, although I believe that I met him first time in my life on that television show. I got angry and said turning to him, that I fought against an enemy even better armed than my side, and besides, that I risked my life every day. Three times I went into attacks, because of my conviction in justice of Serbs’ cause. Normally, I am modest and don’t speak much about my fighting experience. But Babitsky sounded nasty.

All that verbal fight lasted about couple of minutes, I doubt that it was included in final teleproduct, but what I felt after that, was strong conviction that Babitsky was disturbed about journalists’ behavior at war. It sounded too personal, that verbal attack on me. I am certain that he had some problems with his own behavior at war.

To the readers, who doesn’t know my background, I should say that I served as some kind of absolute beginner, precursor in profession of a war reporter for Russian young journalists. My first war reports from Serbian wars were published as early as in 1991 in Yugoslavia, in France and in Russia. I worked for Belgrade’s newspapers «Borba», «Politika» and «Nin» as well as for «Sovetskaya Rossiya» and «Dyen». Some Russian war reporters confessed to me later that they taught themselves to write, taking my war reportages as a model. Later I collected some reportages in my book «Assassination of a Sentry» and «Anatomy of a Hero».

So, I presume it was Babitsky’s hate-love to «father» Limonov what forced him to argue with me.

I will not try to guess, who arrested him and where Babitsky is now. Of course Russia is medieval country, with medieval police, medieval justice and medieval Army. Russian barbarism is sometimes charming, sometimes horrifying. WE are just little bit less barbarians than Chechens are, that is why they have won First Chechen War.

I am trying to figure out what was Babitsky’s decision what he made after that teleshow, if he made any decision. Shortly after he moved to Second Chechen War. I believe that after our verbal battle he felt easier. I believe that Babitsky desired to be like Chechens, at least to be like me. Just recently one of television channels have showed a video, where Babitsky, unshaved, bearded, wearing a sheep-fur shapka, sits on the floor below window, then runs as a mad, forcing camera in mocking attack. Exactly as Chechen warrior but unarmed. It is also useful to remember about existence of such thing as «Stockholm Syndrome» where prisoner getting to the point of identification with his captors.

I think if he is still alive, Russian authorities will let him go. That story is undermining Mr. Putin’s image worldwide. Russian authorities have made a political mistake in punishing Andruisha Babitsky for his drive to be like Chechen warrior or Edward Limonov on Serbian fronts. Political mistake is evident. But on human level those rude, square, red-necked Russian generals, full of cabbage soup, pork fat and vodka, have proved a presence of unmistakable instinct. They smell an enemy, they know that that guy did it. They feel that Babitsky is guilty, as Hungarian border officer knew that I am going from war.

Also, one should remember that such thing as a hate to Motherland exist. Genial poet, but also fine psychologist Charles Baudelaire in his «Les Fleurs du Mal» have a poem about exiles (including Mark Ames and Matt and Kevin) with such lines:

«What is forcing us ahead?
Some moved by the Hate of Motherland»

Participant of all democratical groups for last 10 years, Babitsky evidently hates this side of the front. And this side of front is Motherland. That why he fires from another side.

#4(84), March 2–15, 2000

«My boss is no-drinker, no-smoker. I wish he'll drink and smoke…»

The Limonov's X-Files

On March 26, Russians will elect lieutenant-colonel Putin to the post of Russian President. What is he going to do with our country?

Historically, Russian rulers all could be divided into two distinctive categories: imaginative activists and passive reactionaries. Ivan the Terrible, Peter the Great, Vladimir Lenin were all imaginative activists. While Nicholas II or Leonid Brezhnev were passive reactionaries. But if one will count real events of their reigns, one will see that imaginative activist Lenin is responsible for more or less same amount of Russian corpses as passive reactionary Nicholas II, who started a bloody war with Japan, as well as got into First World War. Thus, for an average Russian citizen it is matter of no importance to which category of rulers Vladimir Putin belongs to. As to me, he is definitely a passive reactionary. Proofs? For three months of his performance as temporary President of Russia, Vladimir Putin did no action whatsoever. Chechen War was started in last August by President Yeltsin administration. Apart from Yeltsin's Chechen war, all the «actions» of pale lieutenant-colonel Putin were the words. Tons of wishful thinkings. About national pride, about discipline, about order.

How Russians will live under Putin? Russia will attempt to finish a war, then to recuperate from consequences of Chechen war, of only action where country was thrown by Yeltsin's will. All the forces of the country will go into black hole called Chechnya. All four years of Putin's first term in office will be spend on attempt to finish guerrilla war and then to pacification of Chechnya. So, Russia will pour in Chechnya millions to resettlement and reconstruction programs. But all of it will be done in vain, because Chechen boys will never forgive to Russians their killed fathers. Russian boys will not forgive either. So, Russia will work hard to prepare Chechnya for a new war with Russia. Imaginative activist will let Chechnya be independent country as it is too evil to live in peace with Russians. But Putin is passive reactionary.

Imaginative activist will start immediately after he got the actual power. He will not wait to be elected. For example, if Edward Limonov would receive a power in manner in which Putin have received it from Yeltsin, within a week Edward Limonov will clear Russian prisons of 60% of prison population. So, about 600,000 will walk out of prison gates, those who were convicted for minor offenses. Within a month of Edward Limonov's reign Russian troops will overtake Russian-populated northern Kazakhstan. Because Limonov is imaginative activist. Because he is a good fellow and feel by heart the sufferings of prisoners and sufferings of Russian population in Kazakhstan. But Vladimir Putin did nothing during his term as prime minister (seven months) and he did nothing during his term as President-Interim. Even in his appointments Vladimir Putin wasn't imaginative or innovative. No single controversial appointment was made, no such appointment what will enrage public or give her hope for the better. Putin just tossed Yeltsin's appointees around. Imaginative activist Edward Limonov would immediately give a life to dusty bureaucratical governmental boredom of appointing, say, to cabinet a new Minister of Cultre: popular singer Mumii Troll. This appointment will force people smile at least. Russian present government is macabre, dull, unsupportable. No, Putin seats surrounded by bellied, bald and gray-haired assholes, who believe that they are great politicians. Because Putin soul is dead, he has no talent for life.

Westerners, that is their peculiar trait, are always concerned about Human Rights. Those concerns doesn't stop them from bombing Kosovo, however, but nevertheless Westerners worried about Human Rights. Westerners should know that Vladimir Putin is traditional macabre Russian ruler, so he is kind of innocent man. He believe that rights always and everywhere belongs only to ruling class and to policemen. Because in Russia rights belongs to ruling class and to the police forces. Human Rights of Chechens I don't care, but our present police forces dearest very Russian police forces are brutal torturers, corruptionists and drunkards. Yes, they are little less brutal than Uzbekistan's police forces. For seven months in prime minister's office Putin did nothing to stop police brutality, or at least to diminish it. Meanwhile, Russian population openly admits that they are afraid of its police forces much more than they are afraid of criminals. In order to teach Russian police to respect Human Rights of its countrymen Putin should send all two million militiamen to fight somewhere where they will be killed as soon as possible, preferably to Afghanistan and to start from zero. To recruit young, fresh police force and to educate them to respect Human Rights.

Russia is in terrible shape. Russian judicial system is tied up with federal and local administration: It is never achieved independence. It is unjust. We Russians, suffering of it. Putin could start to reform police, to reform prison's system, to reform judicial system as early as last August, even under Yeltsin. Anyway, Yeltsin wasn't capable to understand all those details. But Putin, supposedly brand new Putin, wasn't he taught in law school of Leningrad University?

May be all those seven months Vladimir Putin was busy with economics? If so, we don't see what results he have achieved. Our poor economy less poor for now, because world prices of petrol are at its highest. But we know that petrol importing countries are working on organizing downfall of petrol prices. So Russia will be back to its usual dying state very soon. As to statements of vice premier Mr. Kasyonov about some economical growth, they are made on even of election.

We, Russians, forced to admit that apart from some success as a chatter-box, apart from business-lie appearance, non-drinking habits, apart from comparitavely young age, Vladimir Putin have achieved nothing for first seven months in power. Not bad guy, not good one either (Chechen War was started by Yeltsin!). Passive reactionary. And it is very very very doubtful that Putin will be able to so something useful for Russia during next four years.

So, babushkas will have their reasonably miserable allowances, oligarchs will have their pleasures to count money, militiamen will beat a shit out of citizens, Americans will supervise with pleasure as Russians are cutting into pieces their nuclear submarines in Severodvinsk, thousands will die in Chechnya and in overcrowded awful prison. Meanwhile, President Putin will visit ballet-theaters, universities, military bases, will open some congresses and conferences. Country will be bored to death and given to rule of bureaucrats and policemen. The best expression of essence of expected Putin's reign will be a popular Russian hit:

«My boss is no-drinker, no-smoker
I wish he'll drink and smoke…»

#5(86), March 16-29, 2000

…An aggravated hooliganism

The Limonov's X-Files

On March 18, early in the morning, group of people have attacked Kazakhstan's Embassy building on Chistoprudny Bulvar. Malefactors have throwed some bottles with unidentified liquid at embassy windows and spilled façade with a black paint. Few windows were smashed, then group have fled. On the wall of hotel next to the embassy, investigators have found later a sign «Nazarbai, you are condemned. NBP.» (National-Bolsheviks' Party). At about 5.50 a.m. three youngsters were stopped and detained inside of metro station: Mikhail Belenki, 18, Alexander Averin, 19, and Stanlislav Diakonov, 20. According to militiamen the hands and clothes of boys were spotted with paint.

The usual militia investigation followed: of course some beatings (militiamen have put boys face to the wall, so one cannot see who is exactly hitting you) occurred, some threats were made. After militia beatings, boys were interrogated by polite FSB men in next room. FSB men demanded «to work» for Federal Services of State Security, demanded boys to supply FSB with inside information about National-Bolsheviks' Party. They also asked (at least one of boys was asked) to sign a document, not with a blood at least, but real old-fashion declaration agreeing to become an informer. Exactly as a Devil asked Dr. Faustus to sign that he is selling his soul to the Devil. Militiamen, on their part, have put to work article 213, point 2 of Criminal Code, accusation of so-called «aggravated hooliganism.» Punishment for that crime can go up to five years imprisonment.

Of course nor I, nor Party didn't know about assault on Kazakhstan's Embassy building. We planned to hold a meeting on March 21, exactly in front of Kazakhstan's Embassy, to protest against coming trial of Russian citizens (group of Kazimirchuk, all arrested in November 1999) in town Ust-Kamengorsk, to protest against brutal violations of human rights in Kazakhstan, to protest against tyrannical grip of Nazarbaev's family over Russians and Kazakh's population of Kazakhstan. Having not ordering a hit against embassy, Party have acknowledged that Averin, Belinki and Diakonov are party members, so we proceeded to defend them. Famous lawyer Sergei Beliak (he defended Zhirinovsky, also he was NBP's lawyer against Mikhalkov) successfully fighted on March 21 an attempt of prosecution to transfer our three comrades to Butirka prison. [By Russian law, charges should be brought against an accused and they should be transferred to remand prison of «temporary holding' within 72 hours. In Moscow, «temporary holding» is Butirka Prison. In 1999 two of our boys, Dmitri Bakhur and Yegor Gorshkov have been prisoners of Butirka. As consequence Bakhur was contaminated with tuberculosis. From last November he is tied to hospital bed in his native town of Zaporozhye.]

So Sergei Beliak fought practically for a life of our comrades, that they will not be transferred to horrible Butirka. Militia investigators, prosecutor of Basmanny District of Moscow, and FSB men from their side, fought to get our people to Butirka. Militiamen were angry, because 46th precinct is the very same precinct what is guarding also a Latvian Embassy, attacked by some unknown men in the morning on March 3. Nobody was apprehended but Latvian Embassy was also heavily painted in black and some windows were smashed. And signs «NBP» were left on its wall. Latvian government have expressed protest against that. So 46th Precinct militiamen were very angry with National-Bolsheviks activities.

As to the Putin's government, they probably were satisfied. At least they should be satisfied with an assault on Latvian Embassy. Just a week before Mr. Putin himself have sended a letter to Latvian government, asking them to liberate Vassili Kononov, 78 years old partisan, imprisoned in Latvia for a «crime» of killing pro-Nazi band of Latvian policemen in 1944. Latvian government responded with a slap in Mr. Putin's face: they started another trial of Russian ex-NKVD officer, 84-year-old Yevgeny Savenko. Putin and his government swallowed offense. National-Bolsheviks Party have avenged both Putin and Savenko when our activists have hitted Latvian Embassy. Of course, militiamen usually not thinking in political terms, but they took those motives in consideration, no doubt. As a result: Averin, Diakonov and Belenki went home. However their passports were detained by 46th precinct people. Investigation will continue. Police and FSB pressure will continue.

Why our party members do attack embassy buildings? When year ago, our activists have attacked Nikita Mikhalkov, we were also asked: «Why?» We have explained that Mikhalkov have supported and participated in election campaign of Nursultan Nazarbaev in Kazakhstan. That Nazarbaev's regime is tyrannical one and anti-Russian. We have pursued Mikhalkov across all Russia, throwing eggs, fruits, stones, hounding him at his public appearances because we have no political freedom in Russia. No television channel will give a National-Bolshevik Party a possibility to accuse Mikhalkov, no national newspaper will give us a place to express our views on its pages. If we will stage a meeting on whatever political subject, no television channel, no newspaper will report on such event. So, we are forced to act in such a way that medias will be forced to report on our activities. But even such dangerous our tactics are often failing, because of political engagement of media, because of politics of suppression of any information about extra-parliamentary radical parties, pursued by media. For example: seizure of Marine's Club building in Sebastopol on Ukrainian Independence Day, August 24, 1999, and the subsequent 6-month imprisonment of 15 National-Bolsheviks Party members were poorly reported in Russia, despite total approval of population. On March 13, National-Bolshevik Nadia Voronova have twice slapped Mikhail Gorbachev in the face with a bouquet of flowers. It happened in State Concert Hall in Hotel Rossiya in presence of thousands, in front of dozens of television cameras. But NOT ONE TELEVISION CHANNEL HAVE SHOWN THAT INCIDENT. Few newspapers reports, one nasty article in «Komsomolskaya Pravda,» that is all. However Nadia Voronova made an important political statement with her flowers. That people of Russia have not forgotten treachery of Gorbachev, that some punishment should be attributed to a man who ruined our country. [What American people will do to a president who put America to her knees? Imagine…]

Outlawed, dangerous, the very existence of National-Bolsheviks Party is a proof that political dialogue is impossible in Russia, that no matter who is in charge, Yeltsin or Putin, they don't want to talk, they don't want to share. It is easier for them to manipulate an election, and to send National-Bolsheviks to prisons, accusing of aggravated hooliganism. In certain sense they are right. 1917 Revolution in Russia was caused by very aggravated hooliganism. We will perfect our skills, we will follow an example.

#6(87), March 30 — April 13, 2000

Sufferings of russian radical party leader

The Limonov's X-Files

At Yaroslavsky railway station at Moscow I was met by two of my party members. They took my luggage. As we walked to metro entrance I demanded about news. Good or bad news first?— bearded Anatoli have asked. I said: Make it mixed. So, he mixed it up.

Ten of party-members were detained on May 7, as they have stoped traffic at Bolshaya Nikitskaya Ulitsa. Action was organized in protest against inauguration of Mr.Putin as President. Crowd of about one hundred youths have cut traffic on Bolshaya Nikitskaya for only about half-hour, as OMON have arrived, have beaten them up. Three of ten detained were girls. Anatoli said they are incarcerated in 11th, 43rd, and 88th militia precincts of Moscow.

Did you supplied them with food?— I asked. Anatoli said yes, as usually we send a food to our comrades. Anatoli is experienced man, himself he spend six months in Ukrainian prisons, when arrested in Sevastopol. Then he said that our people will be on trial only on May 10, as all judges are celebrating 55th anniversary of Our Great Victory. Then he added that he thinks everything will be all right with those ten. I cautiously have expressed the same wish, that judge will fine them, and it will be over.

How it is going in Nizhni Novgorod?— I asked. Not bad,— Anatoli said. Criminal charges are brought against six party-members, but for a three weeks only one person was interrogated. It seems as police have received instruction to put out their cause. Was it really hard «pogrom»? I asked. Yes, Anatoli said, they turned tables, cheers, smashed equipment, and fought with guards.

We are silent for some time. On April 13, six National-Bolsheviks assailed headquarters of Union of Right Forces, in Nizhni Novgorod. Young revolutionaries overdid their job. Assault was too hard, especially after moment when one of two guards have used gas against our people. So it was battle, when OMON arrived. OMON arrived too fast, but comrades suspect that they were betrayed. Just few monthes ago I have changed regional party leader in Nizhni Novgorod. Cautious middle-aged Vladislav was replaced by youngster, as it was a collective demand of organization.

Predominantly teenagers group wanted to use more radical style, so they have now their radical style. Not long ago they smashed MacDonalds windows in Nizhni. Searches, detentions,— they are undergone. Assault on Headquarters of Kiriyenko's Union of Right Forces may cost them an imprisonment. But for some reason police state reaction is mild. Why? Anatoli, when I asked, didn't know, either. It's probable, that they don't want to make a martyrs of us.

Trial of Andrei Grebnev will take place on May 23, said Anatoli. What his chances?— I asked. Anatoli said that Andrei Grebnev has all the chances to be sentenced to a couple of years in prison. St.Petersburg's National-Bolsheviks organization's leader, Andrei, 25, was a pain in the ass for St.Petersburg's authorities. He was raised working class hoodlum to a leader of political organization. National-Bolsheviks party have gave him a chance to fulltfill his ambitions. National-Bolsheviks few hundred strong column was a best looking political group at St.Petersburg. And they were wild, his stormtroopers. Andrei liked to call them stormtroopers. Seizure of battleship «Avrora,» assaults on Latvian and US-consulates in their cities, fights with OMON only a few of their exploits. Finally last year on October 27, Andrei was arrested with a few skinheads on charges of beating up some Korean man. Only two days later Andrei was placed in horrible St.Petersburg' prison — Kresti, where 40 square centimeters of space is available per one prisoner.

A good news? Anatoli said that new issue of our newspaper «Limonka» came out. That our headquarters, although under heavy surveillance, is not closed down. He smiled. Then he said that Ministry of Justice officials again have refused to accept our party papers for All-Russia registration. They just refused to take our papers. No reasons are given for that. Silent violence of State is unbelievable.

I told Anatoli about our comrades from South Siberia's organizations. About boys and girls from Krasnoyarsk, Novosibirsk from Barnaul. Because I just arrived from inspection party visit to those cities. My news were also mixed. The same fables about militia-men, prosecuters, judges, FSB-men.

If ten years ago somebody would tell me that I will be living like that, I would not believe somebody or anybody.

#9(90), May 11–25, 2000

Nation's Birthdays

The Limonov's X-Files

I can call myself a veteran, as I went through two bicentennials in my life. One was an American bicentennial of Independence Day. On July 4th, 1976, as ÈmigrÈ in New York, I got drunk at a loft apartment of woman-professor of Russian Literature. Her name was Rosanna, her apartment's location, a roof of formerly industrial building, overlooking a Hudson River. I got drunk, then, in the evening I wake up and have fucked Rosanna-my first American lover. I have to confess that it was a purely symbolical gesture: to fuck an American woman, the very first one, on bicentennial day. It was a mean attempt to steal that day from the United States' possession. I remember with lucidity, that as waking up I immediately with horror have looked at my watch: to be sure it is not yet July 5. No, it was July 4, evening, about 10 p.m., but still July 4! Then I fucked her in a hurry. Because of that chronological, sybmolical awareness of mine I can now to boast about it. Later I wrote about fucking Rosanna on bicentennial day in my first novel, «It's Me, Eddie». Overall that book been sold in twenty languages all over the globe in more than 1,5 million copies. But, dear readers of my novel, you should know that fucking of Rosanna did happen in reality exactly on that very day. I believe I stole part of American Independence.

French Revolution bicentennial I faced in my place in Paris: 76, Rue de Turenne. On July 14, 1989, I and Natasha we woke up because of a noise of unusually heavy aircrafts. Old building was vibrating with its entire body. On July 14 — parades every year French bombers were always placed in the spearhead of sky parade. We always heard their flight over Parisian rooftops. July 14 happens to be a birthday of my ex-wife Natasha Medvedeva.

In 1989 she was still a wife of mine. Or rather better to call her «girlfriend», as she was as beautiful, lazy, treacherous, loud-mouthed and impossible as only girlfriends can be. The wives are totally different broads. The wives are victims, those girlfriends are fascists-sadists. Anyway, on that day we woke up because of airborn forces of French Republic, production of monsieur Dassault (I hope I spelled his illustrious name correctly) been swarming the sky, making heavy noises. Every birthday Natasha naked, would run to windows, would open them and would say the very same phrase: «Samolyoti, Limonov, parade!» I would also got up, I always slept in T-shirt, I will go to our windows and look at them. The very French, fine, elegant aircrafts would cross our windows, starting from one at very right, looking at Rue Pont-a-Choux, to the very left one — looking at Rue de Turenne. The first wave of aircrafts will disappear somewhere over our apartment's roof. Then second wave will come from Place de la Bastille — direction of less heavy aircrafts, then third wave will come. French would close their sky parade with helicopters.

Meanwhile, I would grab her tits from behind and I will tell her: happy birthday, dear Natasha. Then I will give her a present. Afterward she will accuse me of lack of originality.

Then I will switch on a television in order to see as «Legion Etrangere» will march. Because Foreign Legion is marching always first, and because I always loved their terrible fighting unit. So we will sit up in our floor bed, one of us will run to make a coffee in the kitchen, but the doors will be left open. So, first sound of Chinese musical notes of marching Legion will force us to run to television set, and we will not spend a time to open doors. When I arrived to Paris in 1980 I have dreamed to become legionnaire. Specially when I wanted to obtain a passport, I believed that legionnaire has a right to be naturalized as a French citizen immediately, automatically. But anyway, I loved to watch those muscular beasts walking those 80 steps per minute, slower than usual army walks. I had a pleasure to look at those boys. I also loved Independence days, those birthdays of nations, because I could stop working. I could get drunk with a light heart, not suffering from sense of committing a crime. Normally, I never drink before 6 p.m., but on those days I would start after 12 at noon. Then it was always a fuck on those days. Sooner or later.

On November 7th (at least for a last six years it is a cause) I would go to Oktyabrskaya metro station very early. At 8 a.m. my bodyguard will come to my place to pick me up, then we will walk to Oktyabrskaya through Krimskii Bridge. Near metro, next to Lenin's sculpture we will arrive at about 8:45. From very far away we would see a flags of National-Bolshevik's Party, our beautiful sharp red-white-black banners. During the next hour party members will flow under the banners. Then our neighbors comrades Anpilov and Terekhov will come to say «Hello!» to congratulate us with a day of October Revolution. Then I will round up a column, to appoint those who will supervise a column security, then we will try our loudspeakers and try our throats. I will scream aloud some slogans and column will repeat it. «The Capitalism is Shit!» «The Capitalism is Shit!» «Eat the Rich!» Our boys like this one specially. «E-a-t the R-Rich!», they would almost choke with pleasure.

Then column will march. It is cold on November 7 in Russia, so in order to get warmer we will scream energetically, we will stamp our feet with a force to the ground. When it is snowing or raining that is the best weather for the procession. In another words the best weather is a worst one, as we are then forced to overcome a difficulties. When a wind and snow storms are snatching out of hands the flags and slogans, when storm is lashing in the faces it is a supreme joy. People around us — militiamen, servers of government — are macabre and silent, but we are happy, screaming. The road, that hour or so, of procession is most exalted part of November 7 celebration. Final meeting is less interesting. Usually it is mutual, all radical parties meeting, with many demagogues. Usually National-Bolsheviks Party would skip the meeting. I would give an order to break up.

After three or four hours under the snow one feels absolutely happy and healthy. One feels mighty because during those hours one was a part of mutual body. It is special feeling. Then all of us we will leave a meeting and will get drunk. And of course, fuck, if one has who to fuck for that moment. That is also October Revolution tradition. I would go home and fuck my skeen-headed girlfriend.

#10(91), May 26 — June 7, 2000

If I Would Have a Chance to Meet Clinton and Putin

The Limonov's X-Files

Putin meeting Clinton… So ordinary, so usual are both of them, that even to write about that sweaty couple is offensive for me, kind of abuse of myself. I would give a year of my life for possibility (by some kind of time machine or whatever device) to be present at a meeting between young Lenin and young Mussolini in Switzerland. It would be dangerously and awfully exciting to meet Adolf Hitler somewhere in 1923 or Stalin in 1937, but Putin and Clinton… Mountain-skier and saxophone player, talking only «good», only permissible, only bourgeois, seating according to protocol in old-fashioned armchairs, smiling as idiots. Those presidents as a matter of fact are most non-interesting persons in whole world.

What about Putin will talk to me? About his time in East Germany? I have lived in Paris, France for fourteen years! I know New York better than Clinton, as provincial governor and President he just visited New York, I used to live in New York for six years. What those two would say to surprise me? They like children in comparison with me.

What I would say to Clinton if I will have possibility to shake his hand? First of all I will not shake his hand, as I have refused to shake hands with Zyuganov. I would say, «I don't want to shake your hand Billy, because it is stained with blood of Serbs and Iraqi blood. You are an assassin, Billy Clinton, so stick your hand in your pocket.» Something like that I would say. Then I would add that The United States is Evil Empire, who bullies whole world, that nastiness of American Empire is unprecedented, that never before any state have had reached of such degree of malice. Beside that you, son of a bitch Billy, is responsible of keeping Americans in zombie-state. Those words, of course they are only words, would probably make Clinton laugh. He will laugh, seating in Kremlin's armchair, in ridiculous blue one, I saw once on television. To impress him one should give him a slap in the face. It would be good show: Limonov slapping Clinton. Then slapping Putin.

And what for should I slap Putin. Anyway Clinton's bodyguards will kill me just a second after I slap Clinton, so I will have no chance to slap Putin. More likely, however, that guards will not kill a Russian inside Kremlin walls, it would be a very very bad manner, to come to Moscow and kill Russian, who slapped Billy, the President. Russians may get offended by such manner.

So I will slap Putin immediately after I have slapped Clinton. Bodyguards or no bodyguards I will move to second blue armchair and hit Putin. For what reason? Wouldn't it be in some contradiction with my ideology? Putin have started Second Chechen War (actually Yeltsin started it), so as a nationalist I should hail Putin, not to slap him? I will slap him because he is only pretending to be nationalist. In reality he have used Russian blood spilled in Chechen War to win a presidency. Putin is vampire sucking Russian and Chechen blood. AS a matter of fact he has a look of vampire: pale face and pale eyes, balding skull, full lips. When Putin speaks, his lips made a sucking movements. Putin holds Russia for his own use and for usage of his fellows bureaucrats. Everything in Russia is for Putin. Television works to show him, he moves from Kremlin to any building or dacha, he flies jet-fighters, he constantly imposed upon our country. He behaves as our Master, Signeur. He didn't say, but he presumes that Russia and we all, Russians, populations are his property.

What I hold as property in Russia? Nothing belongs to Limonov, no land, no apartment, no even bicycle. As to eight thousand members of National-Bolsheviks Party, they are totally deprived of property, or any belongings. They have nothing, they are naked. All the riches of Russia been seized and divided in 1991–1993 between Soviet nomenklatura members. Such people as Minister Chernomyrdin, deputy ministers Viakhirev or Alekperov, new Russians Gusinsky or Berezovsky — they have sliced Russia into pieces. Pale-faced Putin is guarding their property with jealousy. As Yeltsin did. I will slap Putin. I will hit him many times. I would say: «We are demanding of new division of property in Russia. We want to have our parts. Our ancestors have worked hard to build Russia, they spilled a blood for Russia. Why we are deprived of heritage? Why everything belongs to a few scoundrels? Let's divide it justly! Hey, Putin, have a slap!»

Of course Putin's bodyguards will take me away. And Clinton's will help them.

#11(92), June 8–22, 2000

The business of the dead

by Chichikov (alias Edward Limonov)

The Limonov's X-Files

I was in desperate need of money to finance very important political project. I wrote proposition and I have given and sended it to very important people who might be concerned about that project of mine. Very Important People reacted slowly and cautiously. Some of them were (and still are) irritated and frightened by Putin's unpredictable moves against oligarchs, so they would say, «Listen, Limonov, call me in the end of the month, then situation will be clearer.» Some would respond with a fearful advice «to stop it before they will smash your head.» In general, I discovered that is a great deal of fear now in the midst of Very Important People. It is not a good time to ask them about money. I am completely disagreed with VIP's attitude to be a helpless victims, to sit and wait when Putin will take over their riches and will give to non-important people in order to make them important. Time is ripe for radical projects — I am absolutely convinced. But Very Important People are not convinced.

I decided to make money myself. I was fortunate enough to know few Russian publishers. I call to one of them and I said, «Listen, dear publisher, I want to propose you a good deal, a book about the dead.» Publisher said «Yes, I am interested.» Actually, every publisher knows that the dead are best possible commodities to sell. People are totally interested in dead. They can kill for a letter of poet Pushkin to his wife Natalie, full of obscenities. For an entire year 1999, Moscow's government, Russian Federal government, newspapers, radios, television channels have sold that very dead old Pushkin to the masses. Thousands of sculptures been produced, thousands of books all over the country been published, heaps of money been earned. At first sight it seems that everything is known to Russians about Pushkin. But what Russians, which generation exactly knows about Pushkin? Because new consumers waves of Russians, generation after generation are coming to the age of reading and again and again they consume, they avidly consume Pushkin! Dead Pushkin is as profitable as oil wells in Saudi Arabia.

So, I decided to sell my dead. Actually, selling the dead is our national business. The very best book of Russian literature is Gogol's «Dead Souls». It is equally national Russian book as Melville's «Moby Dick» for Americans. It's about Russian business, about art of cheating, about corruption, it should be read every morning before entire cabinet of ministers of Russian Federation. Because it is about Russian life. «Dead Souls» is our national mirror — it is written for Eternity, at every elections I see many thousands of dear Mr.Chichikov's buying the dead souls. Every Russian public building, every Russian organization have full set of characters from «Dead Souls». Oh, Gogol, he is great!

«Who you want to put in your book?» asked Publisher.

«Of course Brodsky, Joseph,» said I.

«Good, good,» said Publisher. He knows that dead Brosky is already feeding considerable number of people, hundreds of supposed friends, thousands of professors at universities, all over the globe. «Who else?» asked Publisher.

«Mayakovsky's lovers: Lilia Brik and Tatyana Yakovleva.»

«Good, good,» said Publisher. Because women sell well. Overwhelming majority of readers are women, and they like to read about their own breed, especially about those who succeeded in making man's life miserable.

«And others, who they are, and how many of them?» asked Publisher.

«I counted 38, amongst them such people as Salvador Dali…»

«Good, good.»


«Who's that one?» asked Publisher.

«That guy who just been killed in plane crash in Sheremetyevo, the editor of Sovershenno Sekretno.»

«Ah, Artyom Borovik, unexplained crash… good.»

Publisher sounded as if he is tasting my dead with his lips, sniffs them and licks them. «Who else?»

«Serbian fighter Arkan,» I said.

«That bandit,» said Publisher with a doubt in his voice.

«Exotic life, beautiful women around, his private army, he owned some hotels, gas stations, even football club.»

«All right,» said publisher. «And?»

«Colonel Kostenko, dead in Transdniestr, in 1992.»

«Why do you need that one?»

I didn't see him by telephone, of course, but I bet he was grimacing with disgust.

«Brave soldier, however lonely one, accused of numerous killings, anarchist fighter, killed by General Lebed's orders, under unclear circumstances.»

«It is going to be too many soldiers,» said Publisher.

«After his killing, his corpse was cut in two in order to transfer his ‘bust' in trunk of Zaporozhets car to Odessa to Institute of Pathology and Anatomy.»

«All right,» he said. My bait worked beautifully. No publisher will resist charming little story about sawing a human corpse in two, in order to transfer one part of corpse to Odessa.

«Then it gonna be in the book Yuri Yegorov, you probably have heard of him, pianist, musician.»

«I heard something,» murmured Publisher. «But what exactly is he famous for?»

«Virtuoso piano player. Once he performed at Carnegie Hall two sets of Chopin's etudes.»

«So what?» said Publisher.

«He is dead in such a rare, beautiful manner. As Socrates, he drunk a bowl of hemlock. He had invited his friends, women, put the flower baskets everywhere. Then drank little bit of hemlock, talk, then drank again.»

«All right. We will take him.»

One by one, all my dead were approved by him. Of course, I have cheated him a little. I saw my dead, I burned them to make them interesting for him.

So, I got an advance money, signed contract and at present I am writing a book about the dead. About my dead. I write from 10 to 17 pages every day. Because it is easy to write about dead. They are predictable. I am going to finish my «Book of the Dead» in a few weeks. I will collect the second half of payment, and I will proceed with my project. What will produce some more fresh beautiful heroical dead, maybe my own also.

Esoteric philosopher Gurdeyev have believed that human dead are feeding the moon.

Each man going to be a dead.

#14(95), July 20 — August 3, 2000

Doctor Limonov's advices to ambitious youngsters

The Limonov's X-Files

I have a madness to believe that I am Very Important Person.

When you live longer than 50 years old, some certain laws of life becoming visible. Most of them are not very surprising, they seems obvious enough, but only with necessary repetition each becoming a LAW, not some guess, but a full-blooded Law.

Every person have its own peak of activity, usually it coincides with a youth age and lasts between age of 20 and 30. Then it is age of routine what lasts between 30 and 50. Then coming an old age from 50 to 80. Not because person is really old, it is too early to be old at 50, but because a cultural tradition of simple folks states it is. Afterwards it is unavoidable death.

Prime goal of individual who wants to become a VIP is do not obey to cultural tradition of a simple folks. Observing my classmates on our mutual picture taken in 1960, when we graduated from our School No.8 of Kharkov, I am thinking… Why? Why my classmates didn't made something big of their lives? That is no VIP amongst them, no famous persons, even some prosperity never been earned by them. At least three are dead in the most banal way. No criminals, no killers, just simple crowd.

Why they never arrived to anything, to success, to prosperity, to celebrity, or at least did shock with a crime? OK, they been born in the Soviet Union in suburbia of provincial, but a very big city of Kharkov, kind of Soviet Detroit. They have had some chances in the beginning, because to be born in a small village is worst. Kharkov was 1,5 million strong industrial city with a huge student population. One had a choice in Kharkov. To say that my schoolfriends and classmates were stupid and talentless would be distortion of truth. No, amongst them I remember few boys who were more gifted than I was. Victor Golovashov was more gifted in literature, he knew more than me about writers, about books. Another guy, Vladimir Zolotarenko, was writing stories at age of 14, he was then accomplished writer! Viktor Proutorov was talented musician, he played accordion and guitar. Okay, Proutorov is special cause, because he died at 28 of heart disease. But Golovashov lived until about 50, then he committed suicide. To put it shortly, his life was not a total failure. After high school he went to an Army tank school, he climbed in military hierarchy to the grade of major. But two problems troubled his life: alcohol and infidelity of his wife. Those two, working in tandem, succeeded in firing Golovashov out of Army. He went to work at tractor plant, then he committed suicide. When a boy, Golovashov promised more than I promised, but he accomplished nothing. Why? I guess he chose a wrong destiny, Army wasn't his destiny, very probably that he went to tank school because his friend Korovin went to tank school. Only because of that.

Zolotarenko was accomplished writer, he wrote a short historical stories about medieval life of Zaporozhsky Cossacks at age of 14. But he was from a big working class family, his father was a welder, construction worker. By itself, the fact to be from a working class family is not positive, not a negative. Boy from a working class family in the Soviet Union theoretically was able to go to any university that he chooses. But a family tradition forced Vladimir to join his father at his work. In the beginning it was announced as temporary job, until young children of family will grow little bit, to aid father and mother. But he never got out of construction jobs, that poor idiot, friend of mine. A welder is good-paid profession. Every time he wanted to go, he would consider how much money he will loose, so he would stay. He didn't want to take a risk.

So, if I was asked about a formula for becoming a VERY IMPORTANT PERSON I would include an ability to take a risk. Perfect ability again and again to take a risk. Also I will add to my formula perfect disregard for cultural traditions: be young when you wish, not when they tell you so. At 54 Chaplin have married 17 years old girl, Oona, she gave him a bunch of children, they lived happily until he died at 91. But a Russian worker at 54 usually very old man, he has a difficulties to live, not marrying young girls.

When, as a young man, I decided to go to Moscow, I followed my instinct. Actually, I didn't know what I will do in Moscow. But it was important to be in Moscow. Thirty years later, friend of mine Gennady Goncharenko called to my mother to express his admiration for my instinct. Because that evening he wanted to go with me but had an attack of cowardice, and stayed at Kharkov's railroad station. So, his life turned out to be an ordinary shit, he acknowledged that. Thus, in my formula I have: an ability to take a risk, good, fine instinct, disregard for cultural traditions.

What else? Ability to work hard is very important. AS to famous luck, I believe that luck is a matter of organization of life. Luck could and should be organized. When I received 35 refusals from American publishers, 35 «No Thanks!», I left the United States for France. That was my luck, I organized it. But I also was taking enormous risk: Jean-Jacques Panvert, French publisher who bought my manuscript, went bankrupt. So, when I took a plane to Paris, I didn't have a publisher, I didn't know French language, I even didn't have a passport! That was in May. In December, I had about 50 articles in French press glorifying my book, published in November.

One who is dreaming about becoming VIP should be also deadly serious about himself. Serious and cruel, as a wolf. One should explode as much troubles during his life, as he can. I would explode that fucking planet if I will near an atomic bomb, or some other such device. Because a universe is very unfair to us humans. So, why continue to keep that existence, soft as a shit. Millions of unborn babies, unborn Golovashovs, Zolotarenkos, Goncharenkos or Proutorovs will say «thanks» to me. Somebody should stop that machine. That somebody will be ultimately great: Last Hero of Mankind.

#16(97), August 17–31, 2000

One day in doctor Limonov's prisoner life

Edward Limonov

Edward Limonov in Lefortovo

My dearest friends and readers.

From the silent eternity of Lefortovo Prison I am sending you tight, compact: Heil, brothers!

Let me to tell you a story of one day in life of Edward Veniaminovich.

At six I was risen from my iron bed with a voice of a prison officer: «Good morning. To rise!» Voice is expedited from a 20-by-20 centimeter hole in the iron door, called a «fooder» («kormushka» in Russian). I got up, thinking that today is my 270th day in prison and only even because of that that is not a good morning. But I put on my pants, taking them from under my pillow. My only cell-mate: fat young fellow accused of financial fraud with a false avisos, moaned and grimaced. Then he got up, a minute later than me. I put my covers on my iron bed then above I put a blue marine blanket. Then I went to toilet bowl and urinated. Then I cleared my nose by inhaling water with a both nostrils, and pushing it out of nostrils one by one. Then I washed only a forehead, nose and cheeks. I went by my bed, I prostate myself on my blanket and coverted myself with a prisoner's «fufaika». It stinks.

I covered my eyes with a towel. Light never goes out here, it's always a light on in prison. My fat cell-mate was left to his sort. And his sort was coming: noisy sound of garbage-collecting vehicle. Iron door was opened with all possible iron noise in most undelicate manner, and my cell-mate throwed newspaper carried our garbate to prison's garbage can.

«The refrigerator?» asked one of garbage collecting officers. «No thanks,» said my cell-mate.

«Refrigerator» means do you want to take some of your food from the refrigerator?

Then mate cleared his nostrils with a noise of an elephant. He is over 100 kilograms, 185, and 31 years old. I call him «Ikhtiander» for his maniacal love of water. He could spend a tons of water, he likes to wash clothes and he washes his hands five times in 15 minutes. He probably was born under the washing tub, he is a maniac of washing. Maybe his mother was a washing woman, I don't know. He is a Jew and he likes skinheads. He is a radical. He said that Afghan problems as well as Palestinian, Azerbaidjani and Chechen problems could by solved only by nuclear weapons.

Elefphant business over, Ikhtiander combs his hair and slowly, carefully, with a dozens of different noises, goes to bed. As a 90 years old man in a dying coma.

Now it is my turn to be disturbed. I lay under fufaika in wiating when the fooder will be opened again with a preaching voice: «Letters, visits to administration, demands.» Suddenly I realize that today is Sunday so today they don't collect letters, don't sign you to visit to administration, as well as don't accept written demands. It is so good, with relief I fell asleep. As a matter of fact prisoners wildly communicate with administraiton. If you want throw out your shoes you should write a dmand. Once I tried to get rid of shoes, it took me 12 days. I wrote such a strange demands as «Please, give the order to put a rubber band in my pants.»

Everytime when you went to watch a television after 10 p.m., you should write a demand to a prisons director. Please, let me. Usually I write demands for notbooks and pens.

I was awakened in less than 40 minutes time: «A breakfast?» Fooder open, clad in white gown women-cook looks at us. «No thanks!» We never eat breakfast, but she asks nevertheless. They ask, because she is not only one cook woman.

After cook-woman that is a turn of deputy officer: «Take a walk?»

I never refused. Ikhtiander goes to the roof of a prison for a walk twice a month or three times a month. He is lazy. I am going every day, regardless of weather or health, because I am doing my sport exercises. Morning before the walk it's a painful time of the day. Why don't they do at once everything: collect garbage, collect letters, serve breakfast and sign you up for a walk? Because administration wants to be present in your life constantly.

About 8:10 they open the door to take me to the prison yard. Lefortovo Prison regulation requires that prisoners don't see each other. Lefortovo is a prison for the enemies of State. So we are walked as lonely Dantesque personages in our personal hell for each one of US. The prison yard is a few square meters of sky hidden by bars and iron net. That is also cell, but without ceiling-only bars and iron net. Population of cell-two or three prisoners. Not all prisoners go to the yard.

All 60 minutes some stupid radio station like «Russian Radio» or «Avto-Radio» or very stupid «Evropa Plus» plays aloud in my ears. All 60 minutes I run, I made endless push-ups, and other exercises, as running in kneeling position. Then I go back to cell where Ikhtiander is tortured in his sleep. He is also very stinking animal, he eats too much.

I boil myself a tea, I sit, I write, I read some of my five newspapers. I receive them by post: «Kommersant,» «Nezavisamaya Gazeta,» «Zavtra,» «Sovietskaya Rossiaya» and «Limonka».

From 13:00 to 14:00 fooder opens again for serve us a soup and then second dish. Soup is a soup of prison — as to a second dish it is a boiled fish with a potato or kasha. Boiled seliodka, how about that! Edmunch Poupe like it.

After dinner I use my great privilege. AS far as I know I am only one prisoner who is permitted to work at some empty cell where I have a table lamp. Nobody never before heard in Lefortovo about table lamp. So I write from 14:30 until 19:30. I wrote six books and one play under that Lefortovo lamp, produced somewhere back in the 1930s. As I joked once, «Marshal Blukher probably wrote a full-hearted recognition of his crimes under that lamp.» That is green lamp with a stalk and a red button.

About 19:40 I am walking back to my cell, my hands behind my back, clutching my notebooks. The color of walls in prison corridors-rosy until 1,5 meter high (rosy-unbelievable, isn't it!) and white above. Floors are color of adult shit. Corridors are four floors high, they are constructed as letter «K» (in Catherine the Great's time). In place where all parts of letter «K» are connected together that is a big table with computers and telephones and some devices of supervision (control of video cameras and microphones). Our prison is a beautiful piece of architecture.

Then we eat with Ikhtiander. Then I watch some news. Exactly at 22:00 I go to bed following the voice from «fooder.» Ikhtiander stay to watch teley (he is writing «demands» very day under excuse that he wants to watch a match of football, but he watches movies.)

I am accused of organizing armed formation with a goal to commit terrorist attack on territory of Northern Kazakhstan and buying arms for that purpose. If condemned, I can have up to 24 years in prison, according to articles 205, 208, 222 and 280 of Russian penal code.

Truly Yours.

#12(144), June 26 — July 10, 2002

The Black Sea / Sochi

From «The Book of Water»

In my recollections about water, about the seas, rivers and fountains, I have no particular system. I began this book with the Mediterranean Sea, with Nice, with Natalia Medvedeva carefully swimming towards the buoys in a sea without waves. But I could have started with the Black Sea, with the beaches in Gudauty covered in thickets of weeds. You can read these recollections of mine starting on any page going in any direction. They float in eternity; they don't need to be any particular length, for they float in the span of eternity.

Here's another memory-clot, a personal voyage. It was 1974. We were supposed to leave for the West. We gave our documents, just as you were supposed to, to a sullen officer, and he put the documents into a safe.

My brilliantly air-headed wife of that era! In fact, following her air-headed luck, I was carried along in the wake of her air-headed luck. My wife came up on her sporty long legs (the old folks who'd sit around outside her podezd considered her legs to be thin), full of energy from her sex-slit which was all irritated because of me, Elena decided that we had to go to Sochi. She quickly arranged a meeting there with her friends from the theater world and high society. And we took off for Sochi. Among my many virtues, one is that I don't fight against fate, but rather, I become one of those who desire it. Since, as Lenin explained, «Fate carries forward those who desire it.» There were times when I had no idea where she was leading me, yet, trusting her, I went anyway. And I arrived just as we agreed.

Next frame: Sochi, we're standing in the corridor of the Zhemchuzhina Hotel. Diagonally across from us, behind desks, is the strict administrative staff: one of them is a fat-faced guy, some kind of Eric or Edik, the one we're after. Elena is all over me, ragging on me. An angry whisper: «Well, go on, coward… we'd already be resting in our room by now…» Go and live with Vitya, I want to tell her, but instead I walk up to the administrator. In my passport I'm carrying money. I should hand it over to this Eric or Edik, having said that we came from Galya Volcheka or from Igor's… with heavy legs, like the statue of Komandor, I make my way to the desk.

«We're from Igor's,» I say.

«We're full,» Eric or Edik answers indifferently.

I shuffle back. In the future, I experienced such defeats in a foreign language. I'd ask, «What time is it?» They'd answer not simply, as I'd expected; not «five thirty» or «six» or «seven o'clock.» But, let's say, they'd answer, «Five minutes after the middle of the day.» And I, fool, didn't understand a thing.

«All the rooms are taken,» I report angrily, like a sheep dog, to my young wife.

«What's this? You didn't even give him the money!» Out of desperation, she's on the verge of crying. White jeans, pink shirt, the porcelain eyes of a doll — she's a dream girl, the whole hotel is staring at her.

«I don't know how to give bribes,» I say in an icy tone.

«So it's up to your wife to teach you how to bribe,» she says in an even icier tone. Yet she didn't burst into a full-fledged quarrel. Her face warmed up.

«Tosik!» She walked past and behind me and returned with a middle-aged man in a gray uniform. A young woman with a baby followed behind him.

«Ed! This is Tosik Aliev! This is my new husband! I left Viktor!» Having finished with the business about her husbands, Elena evilly turned to her business at-hand: «Tosik, you can do anything. We're homeless, we can't get a room here, they're all taken.»

«Go stand over there with your wife!» Tosik says to me. «Go, go, I'll come to some sort of agreement with the rebyata over there. This place is always full.»

«Should we leave our passports?»

«Deal with your passports later.»

We take our things and move up behind the women and girls. No one stops us at the entrance, even though they're even stopping foreigners.

In 1999 or 2000, if I remember right, in «Sovershenno Sekretno» or «Versiya,» I discovered a photograph: Lena, me, a fat Armenian kid, a squat evil girl, Tofik Aliev and his wife are all standing in the Black Sea waves with the hotel Zhemchuzhina in the background. Lena — looking fat, with a hat on her, fat on her sweet sides. I'm looking muscled and tan, looking like a soldier between sybarites. I'm surrounded by mugshots, and an arrow is pointed at me. And Tofik Aliev (not «Tosik» as Elena mistakenly called him), as it turns out, was at that time one of the first big-time Russian Mafiosi. Maybe even the Godfather of the Russian Mafia at that time. The three or four-page article was devoted entirely to him. He spoke about me in the interview, remembering our vacation in Sochi.

In 1974 I knew that he was a big-time «tsekhovik,» as they used to say then — that is, a businessman and a criminal. But I didn't suspect that he was such a big shot. I'm happy for him.

That summer Elena succeeded in tormenting me. She nagged me about everything I was incapable of doing, that Viktor could but I didn't know how to. Tofik Aliev defended me and explained that Edik is still a young person, he'll learn. It was clear to me that I'd never learn how to bribe, but I was grateful to Tofik. When he was with us I didn't have to arrange anything, he did it himself: in restaurants they brought everything to our table without delay, they cooked our shashlik quickly, they brought the best wines out, and the other bandits didn't bother us. Apart from that he was perhaps the only one who didn't go after Elena. He was in love with his young wife, and his little girl brought him happiness.

What brought me happiness in that last summer in Russia? Not Elena, since we quickly picked up some kind of venereal disease, in all probability from the beach, and spent our time healing. The Zhemchuzhina at that time wasn't even completely built. You could go straight down from the elevator below, to a corridor reeking of fresh cement, and from there straight out onto the beach. They'd hardly had time to take out the boards from the cement which they'd placed there in order to lay the tiling. In the Zhemchuzhina, half of the guests were foreigners — from the socialist countries for the most part, of course.

But there were also tour groups from the capitalist countries. So, for example, the photograph that appeared later in the newspaper Versiya was taken by a Frenchman, the big-nosed lover of some thin, evil wench in the same photograph. Today that wench should be fifty-five years old, since I'm writing these lines two days before the 22nd of June and on the 22nd, Elena should turn 51 and this wench was older than her. I mention these foreigners not without reason, since Elena and I figured we'd caught our illness from them, having laid on lounge chairs or having sat on plastic seats underneath the umbrellas. The barmen on the Zhemchuzhina's beach brought me much joy. They prepared simply the most stunning martinis. With the possible exception of one Irish picnic I was at in New York.

Everyone was in love with Elena. It wasn't easy being her husband. They tried, in the old Caucasian tradition, to get me drunk and fuck my wife somewhere. It was particularly difficult taking part in all the trips to the mountains where everyone was drinking hard and feasting in the outdoors, around campfires, with shashlik. But I dealt with it: I downed a canister of vodka, and came to my senses in a bed in the Zhemchuzhina with my wife.

The water that summer in the Black Sea was hot. The Frenchman, his thin bitch, Elena and I drove out in the Frenchman's sports car to Gagry. We wanted to go all the way to Sukhumi, have fun there for a few days and then return to the Zhemchuzhina. On the way there, however, they had a horrible fight — a crazy Russian wench with a peeling nose started to attack the Frenchman's steering wheel, and somewhat south of Gagry we made a sharp U-turn and tore back. We hadn't even reached the little town of Gagry yet.

A postcard from Elena's mother awaited us in Sochi: she informed us that OVIR had sent a notification: we'd been given permission to leave Russia up until September 30th on a PMZh (permanent exile). We got some tickets for a Sochi-Yalta boat and, drunken, along with other drunkards, loaded ourselves on board the ship. A crazy driver in a leather jacket raced us at a crazy speed from Yalta to Koktebel. I wanted to show Elena that I knew my way around here. And I wanted to show off Elena to Maria Nikolaevna (a famous high-society woman). Elena was my war trophy, my occupied city — that was the only way I could see her. By the end of the next year, 1975, they took my occupied city away from me. I didn't expect that to happen. But even if I'd expected that, still, the pleasure I got from having taken this city was so wonderful that I had to seize it, even if they take it back from you later.

When I entered this wench, ramming her on the boat as the waves rocked us, O! True, some years later in Paris we had another romantic adventure, but I won't tell you a thing about it. Just a few words: somehow in the chambre de bonne na Rue d'Alsace, for a long time, I drove her to utter exhaustion through two adjacently-placed holes. And she wept bitterly because of it.

Edward Limonov is currently on trial in Saratov charged with terrorism, a trial which PEN International has condemned. This piece is excerpted from his most recent prison manuscript, The Book Of Water, published by Ad Marginum Press.

#13(145), July 10–25, 2002


From «The Book of Water»

I went to Krasnoyarsk at the end of October, 2000, to write a book about Anatoly Bykov. I took my little girl with me — «Tiny Nastya» as I named her in the pages of my book The Hunt for Bykov. The editor, to my wildest dissatisfaction, seized the text (an author in prison can't stop this) and tore out several episodes from the book. (When I got the book and discovered the cuts, it was as if they'd torn off my foreskin it was so awful. I hope that the publisher corrects this on the second printing, putting back in everything that has to do with my little girl.)

She's tiny because the last time I measured her she was all of 157 cm tall. When I was put in jail, she'd just turned 19. Tiny Nastya finished all her lessons at the Literary Institute in one year and then dropped out. She writes wonderfully fanatical stories and she pastes the craziest collages from cut-out magazine pictures. And she, of course, isn't my daughter, although I call her my little girl. She's my girlfriend. There's a 39 year difference between us. The youngest «grass widow» [a widow whose husband is still alive yet inaccessible, ie., in jail — Ed.] in all of Russian literature.

We arrived in Krasnoyarsk, changed a couple of apartments, and finally settled into an apartment on the corner of Gorky Street and Lenin Street, right behind the Lenin Museum. There, in 1897, Lenin used to visit some exiled workers who lived there. Circumstance saved this log-framed house from demolition when they started to build apartment blocks in the center. They turned the house into a museum.

I woke up around 8 in the morning, walked into the kitchen, put some clothes on and sat down to write. The apartment was very cold; there was frost and outside, snow fell. Little Nastya stayed under six blankets, sweetly sleeping in the bed. I didn't feel like abandoning my warm puppet, but I'd already received an advance for the book, and I wanted to get into the working tempo. At the same time as I was writing the first chapters I continued meeting with those people involved in the tragedy of Anatoly Bykov. The nature of the book — witnesses, evidence — meant I didn't have to wait until I'd gathered all the information to start writing. I began chronologically, with Anatoly Bykov's childhood and youth. The material about his childhood and youth was put together by me in the town he was born in, Nazarovo, and then carried on in Krasnoyarsk.

In my book The Hunt for Bykov there's a bit about my visit there with Nastya. There are also some photos of Nastya in the book. She looked funny — in an orange hooded coat a military backpack on her shoulders. She started going into the stores in Krasnoyarsk like that by herself. We lived without any excesses — the party always swallowed up all the money. Usually we'd buy some chicken at 41 rubles a kilogram, or frozen salmon, potatoes, rice, pasta, and for me a plastic 1-liter bottle of port wine for 40–45 rubles a bottle. When she'd return with her backpack on, you could hear it — she'd stamp her feet up the stairs forever. In her teeth she'd have some kind of green ice cream. Both of her cheeks were flush red. In her case her radiant childish looks were deceiving — in fact, inside of her is a traumatized, self-reliant creature using every ounce of her strength. Her longest work was called «The Pit Bull Girl» — a forty-page misanthropic take on the world. Her favorite singer is Marilyn Manson. In the hall of our Moscow apartment we'd hung an A2-sized full-color portrait of him. Her favorite hero is Chikatilo, whom she affectionately called «Andrushka.»

«He's so defenseless,» she'd say.

In Krasnoyarsk they started preparing for the New Year. We decided to go out for a long walk, after I'd told her that they'd brought clumps of ice to the center of town and that they were planning on making ice sculptures out of them. And that there were even giant lizards.

We got dressed, grabbed a camera and left.

She dressed in warm tights, a pinafore, a bomber jacket and a coat over it. And under her hood she wore a knitted hat with handles.

We walked along Prospekt Mira, strolling for a long time, freezing, and turned towards the iced-over Yenisei River.

When we first came to Krasnoyarsk the Yenesei had already frozen. We were supposed to go out towards the frozen Yenesei but we didn't. We wanted to go into the Krasnoyarsk Hotel. The local TV had told us that that's where the best sculptures would be.

There was nothing going on in the city. I have very hot hands — so I never wear gloves. And she forgot her mittens in Moscow, even though she'd prepared for the trip for a long time, she forgot about them anyway. I took her hands into mine and we moved on. I was wearing the kind of rynok-bought «sheepskin» coat made out of gray tarpaulin (which I'd traded for a pair of Levi's with Taras Rabko). With a beard that looked like I was some provincial grandpa, and she looking like a provincial granddaughter. And yet those two characters were in fact copulating!

Finally daddy and his little daughter (or grandfather and granddaughter) made their way to the Krasnoyarsk Hotel where I photographed Nastya standing before giant ice bottles, glasses, shot glasses and some kinds of utensils. It was colder than 30 below zero out, so we didn't cross the highway to the frozen Yesenei. We went home. On the way we bought some port wine and food. At home I cooked a pot of chicken. We ate it all. Nastya downed her glass and I had two or three.

Then we pulled back the covers on the bed, lay down, embraced, I ripped off her night shirt which my mom had sent and, as they say in the old respectable novels, «There wasn't a happier couple in the whole universe.»

I understand now that I was living in paradise. I could watch as she'd shuffle to the toilet in her night shirt, sleepy, her eyes barely open. How she'd dress in the mornings. She'd put everything on while lying down: underwear, tights, pants. When they finally brought us an electric heater — thanks to Irina Mishaneva — we could finally walk around in as few clothes as we liked without shivering. So that's how she'd dress, catching her underwear on the soles of her feet, lifting up her legs, raising them up into the air and pulling her underwear up her soft little legs and over the rest. She could swear filthy words if the process took longer than she'd wanted. She was an animated object and, having hit the table or bed, she'd yell, «Jerk! How dare you!» and launched into invectives. Still a baby, yet already a woman with a hardened character, an absolutely special girl. She felt, in every step, in every movement and act, a kind of holiness, at times a holy fool. Probably Joan d'Arc was the same way. I know women. I've never seen one like Nastya.

Having got up, Tiny Nastya drank watery tea from a small bowl, like an old woman. She drank slowly and assiduously. At first when we met she'd eat in the mornings, but under my influence she stopped eating. Then she crossed the kitchen and went to her room, where she sat down at a large table, full of affectations and talking to herself, she set about on two types of activity. Either she'd read a thick volume of Fomenko/Nosovsky's A New Chronology of Rus, England and Rome, or she'd diligently write. She wrote several notebooks' worth, though she'd never show me the results. So I didn't see them. She sat in such a way that from behind you could see her thin neck, and from the nape of her neck her tiny little rat tail. I shaved my little blond girl's head down to the scalp several times, only leaving that little rat tail.

We'd join together usually around three. We'd chat, enjoy ourselves. I'd make lunch. She'd behave coquettishly. Gray-blue eyes, curious nose, ruddy cheeks… Tomorrow my lawyer Sergei Belyak will lead her to a press conference where she'll announce, with Belyak and Genrikh Padva by her side, that she's «The common-law wife of Edward Limonov.» Together they'll present my book The Hunt for Anatoly Bykov» the very same book that I wrote while with her on the shores of the Yesenei.

She's 19 years old and it's not easy for her. She's the youngest «grass widow» in Russian literature. Her man, looking like a Spanish grandee and captain Nemo, is sitting in jail.

#14(146), July 25 — August 7, 2002

The Moscow river

From «The Book of Water»

In September 1997 the National Bolshevik Party completed a union with Anpilov and Terekhov. We signed a three-sided agreement that we would run in the elections in December 1999 together and we would hold all kinds of political actions as a united block together, including demonstrations. We signed the agreement in my office in the Bunker, and at that point I suggested that the new block be called «The Front of Working People, the Army and Youth. «We adopted the name temporarily. We sewed a long red banner.

Alexander Dugin started excessively lauding in every FTN article how only Dugin was able to do that. I started to organize my own people and take them onto the streets with Anpilov's people. At the big gatherings, we would get together at Oktyabrskaya Metro at 8:30 near the Lenin statue. Our flags were visible from afar. Journalists ran to us in waves. Around 9 o'clock, I began to draw up the column. In front I placed our red standard on two poles with «National Bolshevik Party» written on it and the image of the Limonka grenade in the center. That same image is on the Limonka newspaper and my left bicep. Dividing into ranks, party members lined up behind the entire length of the standard. They carried slogans between the ranks:»We hate the government!», the Party's credo:»Russia is everything! Everything else is nothing!», «Capitalism is crap!», «Eat the rich!» We had an entire assortment, plus slogans tailored to the day:say, on February 23, 2000, we carried the slogans «Down with the autocracy and the succession to the throne!» and «Putin, we didn't invite you;get out!»

While we were still gathering, I roused the boys, addressed them through a megaphone, explaining what was happening today in politics. I joked and started to ignite them.

«Clear your throats!» I yelled.. «It's time!All right, let's go: A good bourgeois is a dead bourgeois! A good bourgeois is a dead bourgeois! It's weak!Louder!Unite!Open your mouths!More fiercely! Exert yourselves! Capitalism is crap! Capitalism is crap!»

They caught fire step by step. Anpilov appeared and met me, «Greetings to the great Party of National Bolsheviks!»

Colonel Terekhov came up, simple babushkas and dedushkas approached us, pensioners, simple people. For a long time our flag challenged their suspicions:»Do you know that your flag is similar to…»

«We know,» we said. «All flags are alike: there are only a few basic colors, we can't make ourselves a flag out of quilt scraps.»

«Yes, but the older generation understands that flag as…»

«It will soon be dead, your generation.» That's how our conversations went. Then they got used to us. And when the first prisoners, the first inmates appeared among us, they respected us.

The coldest was February 23. But the march route was usually short, not from Oktyabrskaya, and each time the powers that be cut off a piece of the march route. If we had gathered initially at Belorussky, then later on it was at Mayakovskaya and in 2000 already at Pushkin Square.

We generally went from Oktyabrskaya on November 7 and May 1. The march route went up Yakimanka, past the French embassy building, further to the bridge and across the canal of the Moscow River, turning to the right along the canal to Bolotnaya Square, exiting onto the large bridge across the Moscow River and from there onto Vasilevsky Spusk — towards the rear part of St. Basil's Cathedral, where an ordinary meeting would be held. The coldest time on that march route was the Seventh of November. But the boys liked it. One time there was a wild snowstorm after which my sheepskin coat couldn't dry out for a week. A passionate struggle against the elements was added that day to the passionate political one and, because of that, the procession was particularly successful. They still remember it up until the present.

We departed from our place at 9:30. Working Russia spread out salt, walking disorderly, however they could. Anpilov was barely able to pronounce the first two or three slogans. We usually walked at the tail of the demonstration. Ownerless red youth, party-less punks, the leftovers of the anarchists came to us (in front of our personnel and sympathizers). Our column was strikingly young, energetic. Our style was strikingly new for our country, and for any other. Not a second without shouts, we used those cries:like when everyone switched to running practically in place with the loud cries. It was the defeatists and passersby and our partners. And our shouts were paradoxical. Their authorship was often the collective. If I thought up, «We hate the government!», then the masses in the column would shout, «For our old men — we'll cut off ears!» I walked and said through the megaphone that they tempted and beckoned me from the column. Now one of the boys relieved me or maybe there were several megaphones. Fresh young faces, shouts, enthusiasm, laughter, measured steps. It was a joy to look at us and our flags over us.

My despondent colleagues from the literary set — even the best of them — obtusely didn't understand and do not understand how much my invasion into war, and therefore into politics, has widened my potential. The new aesthetic consists of that, which is to speed through a burning city in an armored personnel carrier surrounded by young beasts with machine guns. The new aesthetic consists of that, which is to march on a bridge across the Moscow River, approaching the Kremlin, to stamp and rhythmically outrage, «Re-vo-lution! Re-vo-lution!» The most passionate collisions of the '90's in Russia were political. I was part of the street clashes with the OMON in Moscow on February 23 1992, I crawled away from the rain of bullets at Ostankino in 1993, I placed my skin in the planet's hotspots, and my dull colleagues don't understand:for what?They went to the buffet at TsDL, and the most active of them attended vulgar festivals and TV shows. I instinctively, with my dog's nostrils, understood that of all the topics in the world, War and Women (sluts and soldiers)are the most important. And I also understand that the most modern genre is biography. So that is the path I have walked. My books are my biography:a series of ZhZL.

My banal colleagues never were able to understand that I have a heroic temperament. For a long time they called me «scandalous,» wrote of my certain sharp calculation, suspected me of the sins of self-promotion and vanity. There are tens of books written about me, one stupider and more envious than the next. The last one that I flipped through was a book by some Dashkova, and I've forgotten the title.

I passionately enjoyed going over the bridge to the Kremlin over the Moscow River in front of a column, under our amazing, ardent, bloodied signs. I was happy to the point of dizziness to lie under fire on the Vereschagin hill and to feel the taste of a tangerine section in my mouth — a freshly picked tangerine — that could be my last in life. This is the way I always wanted to live: relishing, risking, vivid. Now jail and the status of a political prisoner make me incontro — vertible, they've cast me in bronze. Who can turn my honesty and tragedy against me now?

It seems like there is that type. But even death would not convince them.

Where in all of that is the Moscow River? On the Seventh of November she was normally, palely steaming, her awful, freezing water under the bridge rising into the sky. Crammed with shit and pierced with tributary streams of hot sewage. Glancing along her, it was possible to see the merchant donated Church of Christ the Savior, the idiotic Nutcracker-Peter of Tsereteli's, the vile, unnatural water. The Moscow River will not get aroused for anything, it will not winnow any feelings. It is a strange cemetery of dead water in the middle of the city, lying along the sloppy gray shores. Like dangerous mercury.

#16(148), August 21 — September 4, 2002

The North sea Amsterdam

From «The Book of Water»

When you go from France to Holland by train, you might wind up losing your respect for the Wermacht's exploits, occupying European countries in days or weeks. Everything there is so boring. Everything is so small! I had just popped open a bottle of beer, and suddenly the freshly painted, intolerable Belgium is knocking by with its own French-style stations. Knock, knock, «The Hague» or something like that, «Brussels.» You've got enough time to notice that the same international conglomerates trumpet their wares here as they do in France. Belgium is basically geographical nonsense; in one part of the province they speak French, the other Flemish, and that seems to be a Dutch dialect. In Belgium, the French established its royalty almost on the nose of the twentieth century. Next to the Place de la Concorde, on the Seine, there's a monument to Belgian King Albert I in a long French robe.

After Belgium, I opened the second bottle of beer, and it knocks around right by a Dutch platform. Holland, in fact, is just a cement dyke connecting France and Germany. 20 million skinny ascetic divider-men and round-assed white-skinned women live along that dyke. The Dutch have long words, just like the Estonians and Finns. My publisher's publishing house — the publisher was Jos Kut — was called «Wereldbliioteek» or something like that, I remember meeting those doubled-up letters not just two or three times. The train to Amsterdam goes through flat despondent houses, parking lots, and the countryside reminiscent of a field, some sort of hummock. And that is Holland — a land of fields. There are all these identifying names on white hanging boards above the platforms in a blue font: «Harlem» for example, and we even recognize «Amsterdam» that way. New York at the very beginning of its existence was called New Amsterdam.

Stations fly by. A depraved pimply girl is constantly licking her lips, a brazen red skinned Indonesian is chewing his gum frantically and looking at the pimply Dutch girl at her right where, under the fabric of her skirt, her sex crack is. A gray elongated man next to the one with red skin is looking over as well, but he is judging the girl and the red skin by the silence of their copulation. And I'm going to my publisher.

Their villages are careful as a plank; they repeat the figure of a statistically average Dutch. I pondered and observed all of this — that's how I traveled.

Amsterdam's train station is disgusting. Gypsies, children, wind, dust, cups from McDonald's, empty cans — why so much filth? Respectable people travel through airports? Reassuring posters for an exhibition — a van Gogh retrospective — steamed over everything. Vincent with a cut-off ear.

On my second arrival on December 6, 1990, I went to search for Amsterdam's port.

«There is no port, Edward!» Jos Kut sadly informed me.

I didn't believe him. There is a Brel song «To the port of Amsterdam! To the port of Amsterdam!» about a poor abandoned sailor — in short, it's a great song. And in those years I felt myself to be a poor abandoned sailor because I wore a pea coat — those were the years of the pea coat — and I felt myself abandoned. I felt myself abandoned because at that time my love with Natasha died — stretched, tortured, slowly and with languorous and foul joy. I left her myself, straight ahead into the black hole of war and revolution. I couldn't keep my balance, it was difficult for me; there was that temptation. I born for war and revolution — wasn't I?— and they hadn't happened. And I took off with a joyous smile only when I was 48-years-old, straight-ahead, into war and revolution, to their needle's eye of death. And at Natasha's, there were only female organs. And all that she was able to do was to lower herself with some rogue. That's what she did. And I returned from war and imagined myself an unhappy sailor, and all the pipes, all the flutes and drums of Brel sounded to me in my ears when I left the next day from the clean hostel room, already drunk and going to search for the Porte d'Amsterdame…

Dans la Port d'Amsterdame… Dans la Port d'Amsterdame… It was necessary to turn my speech to the station and there carefully ask in English, «How can I find a seaport?» to a couple of kids. They didn't hesitate to point me to the right. It was cold. It was very cold and dry, and even though the North Sea had not even appeared — just walls and behind them factory-like buildings — even then it, the North Sea, hung around me, dry, stuck on my hair, neck, ears, and forehead.

«Bitch, drunken slut,» I swore through clenched teeth. And remembering how only yesterday (or the day before?), when arriving from America, I didn't find my wife at home. (I know, I know, I have already written about this, but I want to write more! More!) I went into the kitchen and there, strewn on the table were plates, utensils, napkins. Cigarettes in the ashtray. Two plates, two wine glasses. And why did I decide that it was a man with her? I didn't even see her, she didn't return. I lay down still dressed on the stagnant sheets, drank a bottle of wine I had brought and hid in a hot dream. In the dream I saw the slit of our kitchen again, the table spices, butts in the ashtray, her and him…

That morning I got up and went to North Station and sat on the train to Amsterdam. That was what my publisher and I had agreed upon. The ticket was already lying in my desk drawer before I flew to the United States. I had many responsibilities, many publishers… Bitch! Trash! Cunt. She knew that I would be leaving for Amsterdam on that hour. I discovered the North Sea. In the confused folds of a concrete blanket I saw the gray water. There was a dock, building a ship on the water. On the deck they were sawing a beam. Under the folds of the concrete blanket bums sat in blankets. Between them were two flinching sluts and a red skinned Indonesian, and they drank something from two bottles.

I met a barrel-chested gray-haired man — not quite a sailor or a construction worker. Rubbing his hands (the wind was blowing stronger), he explained that all of Holland is a port — from Rotterdam to Amsterdam.

«Polish?» he asked me.

«Yes, Polish,» I answered dishonestly.

I returned to Amsterdam, passing by a huge floating Chinese restaurant that only had two cars parked in the lot in front. Yes, Polish.

#17(149), September 6-18, 2002

The banya on Masha Poryvaeva St.Moscow

From «The Book of Water»

It was 1968. I lived with Anna Rubinstein on Kazarmenni Lane in a room in a wood building. The apartment's owner was named Ludmila. She had a drunkard husband nicknamed «Yorsh» — he worked at a grocery store, the former director of a technical college — a son Alik, a daughter Alla and the youngest daughter, Lena. At 25, young girls already appealed to me. I remember how my hands shook when I measured Lena: her mother had asked that I sew her blouse. I had a sewing machine in my room next to the typewriter and I would earn money from time to time sewing pants. That Lena should be 48 years old now, perhaps she is even tied down to a husband, but back then she was a charming girl with black eyes, nipples hard under her shirt, a restless ass… Anna, my wife, wasn't around for the measuring. I immortalized the measuring scene in Diary of a Loser.

We lived very poorly. I remember I would go to a basement cafeteria on the Garden Ring, at the corner of Kirov St. I would buy tea, eat the free black bread and mustard and, when nobody was looking, finish off whatever food the diners had left on the plates. Art was what mattered. Writing brilliant poems. I tried to make them brilliant, estranged my poems (made them strange) using Shklovsky's and the Opoyazovts' technique.

Our building was made of birch. Now they've gotten rid of those buildings, but back then several of them stood by Kazarmenny (parallel to the Garden Ring). Ludmila's apartment had three rooms. In the first, the largest, were the mother and her children, Yorsh stayed further down in the next, and we were in the smallest, with a window that faced out into the courtyard. When glancing out the window, it was possible to think it was the sixteenth century; the frames of sheds, snowdrifts, old roofs were all visible from the window. The hygiene was foul; everyone, of course, washed in the morning in the kitchen and there was a toilet, but that was it. There wasn't even a cold-water bathroom. Fleas abounded in the building and our legs were always bitten up to the knee. We went to a public banya on Masha Poryvaeva St. to wash. There are beams and debris at that place now and I didn't even try to walk among them; it was too depressing to see that landscape so changed.

In 1968, there was an old, homey banya on Masha Poryvaeva where, entering the lobby, you could buy a ticket for either the public hall or a cabin. It cost more for a cabin. Inside, there was an entry room with a reasonably wide bench and a shower. I don't remember the prices of that banya anymore. An old man, when leading clients to their cabin, never found fault with anything and never asked the clients to identify themselves, so Anna and I could go in a single cabin, like husband and wife. Never mind that we looked like mother and son. Never mind the fact that our marriage was never registered with the state. The old man was kind and unfazed. On his old jacket there were numerous packs of orders and medals, in several rows. He smoked some sort of wild plant and was always shrouded in smoke.

Once a week we went to a cabin in the Masha Poryvaeva banya. We would take off our coats — Anna had a dark cherry-colored coat with a fur collar, and she also wore this furry hood. I took off my heavy black ratinovoe — sewn in Kharkov by an Armenian tailor — hung it on a hook, placed our sheets from the banya on the bench, took off the rest of our clothes and went to shower. I went first, turned on the water and adjusted it. Anna would enter after me, covering herself with her hands, one on the obvious place, where sculptors place a fig leaf, and the other across the whole of her long chest. We had already lived together for four years, and that Ruebensesque woman, apparently, already bored me. I felt that, but my mind still didn't understand. Her steadfast swollen flesh annoyed me already, and our relationship would soon be like a business one. Or friendly. We scrubbed each other's back and sometimes copulated in a fit of passion in that cabin on Masha Poryvaeva. That happened more frequently when I was hung over, in Kazarmenni. There was too much stifling flesh on Anna; her unbelievable rear gave her the defining bulk of the goddess Demeter. I was 25, she was 32; not for nothing did I steal looks at 15-year-old Lena when, she stumbled sleepily into a kitchen chair, her beautiful figure tipping like a young plaster piggybank. Pioneer Lena ironed her tie, knotted it — the kitchen smelled like a tie — and, turning her butt, slid through the door. I went back to my room and sat to write a poem. I tortured myself with poems, punished myself with poems, wrote by the kilometer for ten hours a day! Only a little piece of that abundant poetic ground meat was subsequently squeezed into a collection of Russian poetry published by the Ardis publishing house in Massachusetts in 1979. In 1974, all or almost all of these notes, including the ones written at Kazarmenni Lane not far from the banya on Masha Poryvaeva St. (about 100 meters), were taken out of Russia. Leaving America in 1980, I gave them to the archive of the Slavic Studies professor John Boult from the University of Texas in Austin. Subsequently, John Boult gave these carefully numbered kilometers of writing (I remember there were definitely at least 1235 pages) to some other university. So they are still somewhere, these kilometers. When the hostility towards me for being the leader of the National Bolshevik Party recedes, they will start to study these thousand-plus pages. All the more so because of the confusion written there: poems next to a diary and the descriptions of events. There, in the fragments of writing, is the history of my last years with Anna and the beginnings of my romance with Elena.

The banya on Masha Poryvaeva St. was, I suppose, ordinary — a building left over, perhaps, from old, pre-Revolutionary days. The old doors, swollen from the steam, the old split stove, the dirt. Twenty years later, people in Paris started inviting me to a nightclub called Bandush; Bandush became a fashionable place right after it opened on Sevastopol Boulevard. I met Roman Polansky there at the end of the 80's, I saw the young, rickety Vanessa Paradise sitting at the bar, I was introduced to Jacques Chaban-Delmance when he was, it seems, the head of the National Assembly. «Bandush» literally means «Banya-Shower» translated from French, which is where those words came from into Russian. The club was renovated from an old banya, which is how it got its name. The smart managers left a red stove and a part of the dried-out pool (they danced there). This original idea kept Bandush a cult club for quite a while. A miserable pack of rejects stood outside every night. And I remembered Anna Moiseyevna and that Moscow banya on Masha Poryvaeva St.

#18(150), September 19 — October 2, 2002

Edward Limonov, former eXile columnist, author of over 20 books and leader of the extremist National-Bolsheviks Party, is currently on trial in Saratov charged by the FSB with terrorism, attempting to raise an army to invade Kazakhstan and pocession of illegal weapons. He faces more than 20 years in prison if convicted. PEN International has condemned the trial.

The horse fountain at Manezh

From «The Book of Water»

When the sun was hot, I used to go watch the changing of the guard at Manezh. There's this one place there. You need to stand on the promenade over the fountain with the horses and look down. Moscow girls wander around there, from teens on up. They gather, the daring ones shout, or drink the fountain's spray. If they're in a group they carry themselves more boldly: they'll poke each other, splash water, laugh, squeal. If the wind is blowing, it always scatters water on them, and their nipples show clearly through their shirts. Young animals — they are very fine.

In Moscow there are so few distractions and chances to show off your body, its borders, passion, tenderness. Nine months a year everyone walks around wrapped up to the throat in winter coats. The shorter it is the more valuable — that phantasmagoric summer time. And there's this corner where a man of my age can observe those frisky young figures unnoticed. Incidentally, I wasn't the only one going there; I haven't gone anywhere alone since September 18, 1996. My Party surrounded me. As the boys' general, I oversaw their changing of the guard. Lokotkov was the oldest. He died in May, 1999. We burnt him at a crematorium. He was 28.

At the end of March 1998, when I arrived from Novosibirsk, I knew that I had lost Liza. Her trust-shattering lies had become unbearable. I didn't want to share her with anybody. And she wanted to share herself. She specifically liked that. We broke up over the telephone on March 26. Under her multilayered voice bubbled a man's voice. She was with somebody, and let her be! I told myself, calling a girl, Vasilisa from Vologda. She helped me recover from the loss and then left for Vologda.

Spring began and I went to Manezh during Kostya's watch. It was unclear if Kostya approved of his leader's behavior or not — he didn't say. Kostya was a migrant worker from Ukraine, from outside of Zaporozhya, a city called Energodar. In the past, he had been a builder, butcher, actor and Soviet soldier serving in Germany. He had slept in the barracks of the old SS tank division, the Death's Head. His appearance wasn't welcoming: a shaved head, the face of one of Gering's Hitler Youth. Kostya was utterly impassive, never revealing whether or not he approved of his leader's lustful outings; I laughed myself, saying that I had come «in search of young sluts.»

When Limbus Press publishing house backed out on me, their representative invited me to write a new book for them. I asked for a $10,000 advance and, laughing, told him that I had a plan and a title. The representative was interested. I told him the book would be called In Search of Young Sluts. The phone was silent for some time. I think I had surpassed their wildest hopes.

Continuing in an affected manner, I carefully diagrammed my current mood, explaining that I specifically wanted an open young slut. Irritable and accessible, happy and adroit, like a monkey, depraved and limber. I wasn't lying! That project with Limbus Press didn't work out. Kostya and I kept hanging around Manezh. My eyes roamed around. The choice was huge. An entire market of youthful creatures. I think they went there with the secret purpose of finding themselves a buyer.

I had one difficult relationship with a charming girl, twelve years old. On June 20 a charming girl was supposed to bring some things to me. In the evening. But it just so happened that that day, that morning, in fact, I came across Nastya's party card, with her photo and age. And that was that. There was no reason to go hunting young sluts anymore. Why bother, when a perfect child had appeared among my own followers? A child has everything. A young slut. Light.

Damn, how she worried me…how I lusted after her! We didn't do it until August. We did everything but. I know people usually think I, the libertine, seduced her. But who seduced whom? I don't know what prison will make of me, what I'll be when I leave it, but in 1998 I was an attractive middle-aged guy with well-defined features, hollow cheeks, bangs that fell on my forehead, echoing in the ears of young girls. The editor of an edgy youth newspaper, the leader of a revolutionary party. Who else should a young talented girl — a girl who chose a book of Bosch reproductions when I invited her to select a present — fall in love with? Who else? We fit each other perfectly. And, of course she was wild. But she was already showing signs of autism, she didn't love people. She declared her love for Chikatilo, but that was all a pose, or the prelulde to a pose. She was too eager to come off as extreme.

We walked around a lot that summer. I broke the Party rules. I went with her to Manezh and she led me to the horse fountain herself. In front of the horses there is this fine circular reservoir with jets. She and I would spend hours there, on the edge: sun and water around us, in the center of the roar. Everyone around us smiled. A touching scene: a teenage girl — white knees in ripped jeans, rosy cheeks, light bangs…and her attractive, fit father. A musician, perhaps. As people say: like a pianist… Papa strolling with his daughter. The daughter hugs papa around his neck, trying to push him under the spray, and falls in herself. Everyone's happy. What a frisky girl… she stands up wet. She laughs.

«Edward, I… want ice cream…»

That summer she was 16, and she looked about 11, maybe 13. She had tried speed a couple of years before and, as she said, she «almost lost her roof forever.»

God, how many of her poses remain with me: head down, sideways, hair in the water, cheeks blowing, releasing little bubbles. She wore a rose vial with a spray of bubbles on her neck. I remember when we went to meet with some Party members from out of town at Kropotkinskaya metro: she brought a monkey on a leash! Lokotkov was disturbed only for a moment. The Party members looked on in horror. I confess that I did not go out of my way to clarify the situation. Maybe she was my daughter — the daughter who is methodically teasing her monkey while the Party members and I, drinking around a table at a bar, discuss the Party's problems. Finally she got angry; she was so small, the high table was as tall as she was. She couldn't sit with us as equals. That's why she got mad.

We spent a whole season there by the fountain. The spray glazed all those idiotic fairytale characters: the fisherman and the fish, along all that bronze foolery rashly erected at the walls of the Kremlin. She and I were grateful for that place… I won't write any more… I'm stopping. I'm hurting… It's such a hot July.

#19(151), October 2–16, 2002

Epilogue: the arrest

From «My political biography»

They took us at seven in the morning. It was getting light. First the dog started barking. «There're people coming!» yelled Dimka, who was sleeping by the window. «Lots of them. With guns!»

We jumped out of bed. A few minutes went by before armed men broke down the door. «Stay down, fuckers! Nobody move!» And more of that sort of thing, tough-guy talk from TV shows or the movies. They pushed us out half-naked into the snow and shoved us down on our knees in a half-circle. With me in front. They were beating someone with rifle-butts. Those who slept in underwear were in underwear. I was barefoot, in a t-shirt and black knit pants. Without my glasses.

In all, there must have been at least two platoons of soldiers. Some of them had «FSB» in big blue letters on the back of their jackets. They were under the command of a tall, evil character in black glasses. They picked me up out of the snow and took me into the hut, let me get dressed. In the chaos of overturned beds, the search began.

Two Altai natives who were obviously taken from some nomadic tribe gazed with eager eyes at my binoculars. Superfluous soldiers wandered into the hut. The examining magistrate, Major Shafarov, was writing the official account of the search. They took my dollars and started counting them. There turned out to be 11,100. They took out my rubles as well, about 15,000, which later disappeared.

Since the hut was small, really just two beds, and there had been eight people sleeping there, four beds brought in, the chaos was terrible. «Search» — that word doesn't really cover what was going on. Some object would draw their attention, and if they felt it might serve their purposes, they'd throw it on one of the beds, where there was a general pile of stuff. One of the officers was rummaging through the books — a small shelf had been nailed up by the ceiling. «Do you know Dima Kondratyev, Edward Veniaminovich?» asked the lanky commander. «He investigated you in relation to the explosion.» I realized, without any pleasure, it was necessary to speak. Another guy from Moscow, whose last name I'd seen on the search protocol, but forgot — Edward Vadimovich, a loose young man, tending towards fat — dropped all these ironic observations about my cause. «You, Edward Veniaminovich, are the leader of the most radical party we have in Russia. The absolute most.» He told me he attentively read my book Anatomy of a Hero and that today was the happiest day of his life; he had caught me, his favorite author.

Then they suggested that I show them where the weapons were kept. On my own. I told them I didn't have any arms, even blades; if Pirogov had something, I didn't answer for his arms. «Well, whatever, let's go search together,» the lanky commander said. They took their special dog and started to ransack the building in my presence.

Our boys were still standing in the cold; it was forbidden to dress. In the end, they locked them all in the old bathroom. With the exception of Akopyan.

Neither their dog nor their metal detector was able to uncover anything. Edward Vadimovich started joking less frequently. I managed to hear two of the participants of the search, whose backs I could only see, «No luck again!» It really was unlucky. To drag that whole horde from Moscow, from Barnaul, from Gorno-Altai, create the impression of seizing a free group, spend so much money and — zero.

They put me in the bathroom with the boys. I said that they would all be released sooner or later, as they were trying to get me, even though they didn't have any basis. But there was a goal — to expand the organization, and maybe we found the best way, if they jailed the leader.

They started to call the boys for short interrogations in a shack. On the way they tried to hit them with their rifle butts. One especially bloodthirsty, tall and thin (probably lieutenant) named Oleg took Dimka Bakhur into the tambour and hit him from behind. «Eh,» I said, «don't hit him and definitely don't hit him in the head, half his skull has been blown away.» In fact, Bakhur had an operation in which they temporarily removed a piece of his skull from below the ear. The lieutenant gritted his teeth, but stopped hitting him.

Ordering us to grab our things, they took us through the snow along the road back. In that snowy valley, where we had shacked up for five nights, a bulldozer circled with Pirogov at the wheel! Travnik waved his hand at us and asked me something. However, I didn't have the possibility to answer him. They assembled us in the snow. And we stood under the guns, awaiting further orders.

They sat us in several UAZs — hands behind the head, head on the knees, a barrel at the forehead and we practically swam to Bannoe. The water had already reached the height of about a meter around the wheels on the road. We got stuck an innumerable amount of times. In Bannoe, the lordly officers drank with the local police in the barracks at the entrance of the village (the bottles of vodka on the table were visible through the window that was in the place they stuck us). I envied the officers. And I told my people, «The National Bolshevik Party was genuinely born today, boys. Remember this day — April 7, 2001.»

«No talking!» The menacing, lanky one entered.

Towards night they took us to an isolation cell for temporary holding in Ust-Koks. I took two packs of cigarettes from my bag and they brought me to my cell. Two slanted-eyed half-Russian guys sat there: Lyokha and Sashka. I gave them a pack of cigarettes. On the top there were two leveled wooden cots standing on metal frames, an oak in the corner, a metal bench. In the opposite corner there was a barrel coved with a rag. Sashka was a horse thief. Lyokha drew, Sashka slept, and I dictated to Lyokha the text of the song «Cigarette Butt.» (It's about a butt with red lipstick stains on it. If Aleshkovsky had been there, he would have been thrilled.) Then I lay facing the wall, covered myself with my long-suffering sheepskin coat and fell asleep. Lyokha drew, paced around and then fell asleep next to me.

In the morning, it became clear through the cleaning woman — the veteran jailbird Bakhur fixed the connection — that they interrogated, threatened, and beat our boys all night; they held pistols to their temples, put bullets in their pockets, intending to create evidence against me. To fabricate that we were planning an armed invasion of Kazakh territory. After some time, they called me out with my things. I said goodbye to my cellmates. They were supposed to be brought to a jail with an Arab name closer to Mongolia. I knew that they would take me West.

All eight of us were brought into the yard. They let six go, I gave them all my Russian money, the cash that remained. They took two, Sergei Aksyonov and me, across Altai in an UAZ with three constantly laughing sentries who were holding us at gunpoint. Military vehicles drove in front of us, and the officers were in one of them. Sergei and I were in handcuffs. We rolled so long and purposelessly through wild mountains that I started to suspect, «Could they be taking us to Kazakhstan? Or they'll stop the UAZ and shove it over the edge of a cliff?» I already didn't doubt the lunacy of the secret service.

No. They took us to the FSB's base in Gorno-Altaisk. They didn't turn us over to the IVS; they fed us cold pelmeni on paper plates because there wasn't enough time. They gave us cookies and tea. First, the witness Major Shafarov interrogated Sergei Aksyonov and me. At the end of the protocol I signed that the detainment effectively took place a day and a half before, at 7 o'clock the morning of April 7.

Towards night they took us in two cars. In one — next to the chauffeur — Lt. Colonel Kuznetsov sat (his voice and manner expressed themselves like Sergei Zharikov, never leader of the DK group). They placed me in the back seat, between Captain Kondratyev and a Barnaul cop. In the other car Edward Vadimovich sat in the front seat, not in good form due to his drinking; Sergei Aksyonov was in the back between Major Shafarov and someone else. We started moving. When it became apparent that the tape player in our car worked poorly, Kuznetsov swore, stopped the car and we switched cars. Edward Vadimovich got out en route to puke; more specifically, his friends carried him out. Kuznetsov wanted me to listen to their hit songs. «Gleb Zheglov and Volodya Sharapov» and «Cheka.» The fat cop lights spun, the cars on the road clung to the curb.

«What'd'ya think?» Kuznetsov asked.

«It's KGB-pop genre,» I said. «Your soldaten, the ones who catch honest thieves, they listen to the Circle, distorted to incomprehensibility.»

«Well, it's pop, it's not pop, what it is…» Kuznetsov said. «See how we are taking you?! High class, like a government official. While you're still like that. We'll give you ten, fifteen years; if you leave, then there already won't be anybody, no party, no girls. See, we even know who you're sleeping with.»

«I don't doubt it,» I said.

«We know a lot, a lot about you,» continued Kuznetsov, «and about your little boys. To be blunt, the Chechen people are stronger — which ones did only you take? That one from Novosibirsk… he's just a loser, an idiotic peasant…»

«An oven lighter,» I said, «and we don't shrink from oven lighters. Work will be found for everyone. And we don't have any problems with the Chechens. We're a long way from them…»

«Yeah, I've waited a long time for this conversation. I've known you for a long time, Veniaminovich. Even when there was that search for you related to the Mikhalkov incident, I was involved.»

«You were involved in the provocation and you yourself likely organized it all…»

Kuznetsov didn't say anything. «When I'll arrive, I'll sleep. For half a year I've been combing the entire country for you. It was me who didn't allow your boys into Riga. I took them off of the train in Peter. There was also a little assignment: to disrupt. And how to disrupt them when they've got tickets.»

«And then you planted drugs on one of them.»

«I didn't plant anything… they were on him.»

«Oh, yeah, of course…»

«I know all your people. And Lenochka Borovsky…»

«And in Riga we still broke through… even though you turned our people in to the Latvian secret service. You make friends with all types, huh, with friends from Latvia? And do you know that 600,000 Russians there don't even have the right to vote?»

«I don't need political information, Veniaminych, I myself am the one you want to get your information from. Tell me more specifically, why don't you love us?»

«You turned our boys over to the Latvians. And the boys were going to an event to defend old Chekists. You don't even feel solidarity with your own pedigree!»

«We…» he started to tell about how Yeltsin let down the KGB and finally a man arrived who is returning their rights to them, their former strength as the punishing sword of the government.

«I get it,» I said. «Only, for what will you punish? It used to be for the dictatorship of the proletariat, for the people, and now it's for the oligarchs, huh? Don't imagine yourself as Dzerzhinsky's descendants. He was a revolutionary, he sat half his life in jail. I read his journal, how in the nights there they took them out to hang. And you are a reactionary, a guard. You are the reverse of Dzerzhinsky's type. Dzerzhinsky's statue will never be yours, there isn't any chance.»

That's how we drove, conversing. It was very cold in Barnaul. It turned out that our flight to Moscow was delayed three hours. Kuznetsov grew irritated. After some time in the car they brought him vodka and a snack. «Veniaminych, you want some?» Kuznetsov asked. «Drink; when will it happen the next time? You'll eat fine; they feed you well in Lefortovo, I'd eat it myself. But with this, there won't be this.»

I let myself be convinced. I drank. With pleasure. A second bottle appeared. I said, «Can't we pour Seryoga a drink?»

«No,» Kuznetsov said. «He's arrogant, your buddy, and that's why he isn't getting any.»

«What does that mean, arrogant?»

«He holds himself that way. Insolent.»

Then the Lt. Colonel and I were left alone. He began to pull out his pistol and cock it. Then he said that it was too bad that we weren't on the same side. I said that it was unfortunate that they hunt down patriots of their Motherland. He said that we would be able to, if I would agree… I said that I invited General Pronin to work with us. It became clear that the discussion wasn't about that.

«What, are you recruiting me, Mikhail Anatolevich?»

«I'm recruiting,» he said.

«Here's my answer to you, look.» I hit my ribs with the palm of my left hand and bent the right at the elbow, making it into a fist. «Oh, you…» he said.

«You can shoot me here, damn it, Mikhail Anatolevich,» I said unfazed. «You already invited me to rat out my own organization, turn in my boys. How did you want for me to react?»

I drank all I was able to with them, on them. I wasn't afraid that I would start to blather myself into trouble. I have always retained my capacity and aptitude to drink. And on the plane I drank all of Edward Vadimovich's gin and tonic, I ate his, and someone else's, and my own lunch. They had weak stomachs; I didn't.

Sergei Aksyonov sat across the aisle under the strict control of Captain Kondratyev. We occupied the rear seats of a civilian plane. All the officers were armed.

In Moscow, a Gazel waited for me on the tarmac. In the Gazel, they put me in a «glass» without air, and drove through an already green Moscow.

In Lefortovo (nobody said, but I figured it out), they locked me in an isolation room with a pair of chairs and a table. Two military men in KGB uniforms looked me over and left. They brought in a blue uniform like I once saw Raduyev wearing on TV. They wrote down my processions. They left my underwear and boots. A female doctor came in. The most humiliating was having to turn at the orders of an extremely fleshy woman.

After half an hour I was carrying a mattress, walking between two guards. We wound up in some corridor, then to the center, from which four corridors radiated out (I later found out that Katherine the Great constructed that building in the image of the letter K). They opened a metal door for me and I entered into the jail cell; they closed the door. There were three metal beds colored with blue paint in the cell. I lay the mattress down on one of them and sat. A scene from a classic novel.

#20(152), October 17–30, 2002

A pond in Kharkov

From «The Book of Water»

Up above, along the green and bald slope, we all lay uncomfortably wherever we fell; girls, parents, guys. Down below, ringed with planks, a diving board and paths, lay the pond. A chain link fence that wasn't quite parallel to the water bordered it. The fence's links were broken in several places so that, by stepping across the asphalt path fringing the pond's perimeter, people could climb through the holes and dive into the brown water. Many trees lay scattered up above, beyond the fence. That's why the water looked brown — the higher ground over the pond was always in shadow.

Details always impressed me as a kid; I remember how hundreds and thousands of little fish and tadpoles swam and poked about. The water teemed with minute fish, and dragonflies, bugs, mosquitos and all sorts of reeds lay on top of the water.

Soldiers in those days — and now, as well — weren't in shape, my father included. I remember how my father swam, grunting through the water in a black bathing suit and pattern baldness. My mother shyly flailed in her suit; our neighbors entered the water with shrieks. It's as if slides of these moments are projected on the wall of my cell.

It should be explained that the pond was built near a mineral-water spring. There was a pipe sticking out of a cliff and caravans of baptized people would head to it in the summer evenings with cans and canteens. It was built in this bit of country where nothing much ever happened. They burrowed and excavated with bulldozers. Then the place suddenly bottomed out all by itself. The path collapsed over an old Jewish cemetery, down to the level of Tyurenka's first houses, and then fell again even lower. People from Tyurenka radiated pride over their Swiss lake, right in the middle of the steppe-like landscape. And they guarded it against any outsiders. They wanted to control their Riviera, their paupers' Switzerland. On the next block, just past the diving board, lived the ruler of Tyurenka in that era (1955–1960), a thick-bearded guy called Tuz or Tuzik.

Gypsies also lived in Tyurenka. If you were a newcomer, they'd call you out — or you'd call them — just about every day. Every time a challenge. This gypsy named Kolya was always fucking with me. One time he put on my blue t-shirt and wouldn't give it back. He left with a crowd of people, still wearing my shirt. I didn't catch up with him till next summer. He was short and stocky, thick arms and legs. But I was already smarter than he was. I was 13; I grabbed him and told him that he'd worn my shirt last summer, and this summer I wanted it back. Or I'd tear off the ragged shirt he was wearing. This shirt was not Soviet and had been dyed by hand; Kolya the gypsy had almost definitely stolen it, probably at the city beach.

«What the hell?» he began doubtfully. He braced his legs, knitted his brow and flexed his chest. Kids grow up quickly. But I was smarter than him.

«Sanya,» I called, «Come over here, alright? Something's up. There's been a little disagreement.»

Red Sanya — 19-years-old, 90 kilograms, thick-veined, with a turban made out of a towel and a skull ring on his middle finger — came over. Over the winter I'd gotten close to him. I had even gone over to his place; Sanya's, Auntie Elza and Svetka's. I was like Sanya's younger brother, his aide-de-camp, his accomplice (we had somehow been brought in for this one caper — not worth a dime — and released). Sanya came over. He had another ring, made of fused metal. I admired the way those rings reflected the sun. He butted the gypsy with his confident, gangster's belly. The gypsy, clearly frightened, took off his shirt and handed it to me. After that, the Tyurenka gypsies always greeted me. They went back to ignoring me when Sanya was sentenced to three years.

I clearly remember the first vision, my first apparition of a pond. I remember all the ants, dragonflies, bees, wasps, bugs, mosquitos, tiny fish, a horde of insects stinging us on the steep slopes of the hill leading to the pond. They stung me in the 50's; other insects stung me in other reservoirs in the 60's. I didn't learn to swim in a pond, though. An electrician, dyadya Sasha Chepiga — dust to dust — taught me to swim in the tiny Old Saltov River, which was only about ten meters wide. Cows and goats grazed along its banks, which were even more thickly littered with cow pies and black goat turds than that pond's modest, bald shore had been.

If I had the chance to go to the shore of that miserable pond now, it would seem to me a petty, nasty, plain, pitiful undersized Russian reservoir. But when you haven't grown up yet and stand next to your father, only as tall as his chest, then the whole amphitheater, the pond swarming with sunbathers, seems glorious. The water pouring from the green pipe, the birds and people shouting. It's odd, but only now, after a half-century of turbulent life, have I found my place. If it weren't for me, who the hell in all of Russia would notice that miserable pond? Two-thirds of the people who were pissing in its water, mating in the nearby bushes, flirting, sweating, screwing drunk on the grass, stealing pants and sheets from their neighbors are dead. No, not just two-thirds — three-quarters or four-fifths! All the young girls who dipped their thighs, chests and pussies into the water swarming with little fish — some are dead, rotting in their graves, and those who are still alive are bloated toads. Confront your fate, I shout at this old nation: fuck all your mothers anway — who are you? None of you matter any more than the little fish in that stagnant pond, as you float down the sewer of life. Only the strange boy in the bathing suit who is looking at you counts. And to make sure he notices you, lift up your gaze from the fish, tritons and tadpoles. If he doesn't notice you, then you don't exist.

#22(154), November 13–20, 2002

Thorn and roses for Savenko

Roses of colony were shaked by the hot wind, when brigadier walked me on June 18 to Administration building. Brigadier's name was Ali-Pasha, he was tall, bull-like man sentenced to 15 years, he already served eight. Roses of colony were trembling under hot chemical wind, because colony is sitting inside of «prom-zona,» industrial zone.

Edward Limonov

Limonov bidding a fast farewell to his guards as he exits Colony No.13.

On June 18, Engels city [Volga city where Limonov's prison colony was located] judge have arrived at our colony number 13. My lawyers Beliak and Mishin were also at place. As well as public prosecutor of Engels city, named Ship, what means «thorn» in Russian. I didn't like such name. There were also about 15 journalists, with cameras and without. I already knew that they will let me out today, that decision of judge would be positive, to free Savenko [Limonov's real name] one year, nine months and eighteen days before the end of his prison sentence. «90%,» — said colonel Zorin,— colony's commander. So, I was aware that it could be also 10% of unexpected forces of Evil, what could intervene. Probably that evil Ship-Thorn.

All of theme were seated at colonel Zorin's office, airconditioned, where colorful fish swim in large aquarium waters. Beliak and Mishin hugged me, the rest said nothing, except judge, who proposed me to seat down. I said I will stand. Judge didn't expect me to stand, he said, «If you wish,» and he asked my lawyers to speak.

Beliak, wearing very simple and very expensive short-sleeve shirt, stood up and said that Savenko have already served two years and two months and eleven days of his sentence of four years, so he is elligible for liberation. Because he served one half of sentence, have no penalties, imposed by administration. Beliak also said that seven GosDuma's deputies asked by letter to free Savenko, that Savenko has old-aged parents, that himself he is 60-years old…

At the stand in the far end of the room, facing judge, prosecutor and colorful fishes in aquarium, I thought that all those people have trouble to come to colony No.13, under the chemical wind, because of that troublemaker Savenko. Journalists, photographers and camermen from Moscow, my lawyer Beliak, some of them came from Saratov to that steppe on the Asian side of Volga. Accused of preperation to commit terrorist actions in territory of Republic of Kazakhstan, with a goal to create Separatist Republik, accused of formation of outlaw armed units, that Savenko nevertheless is a slippery fish, have escaped the punishment for that and was punished only for purchase of guns. What a man that Savenko, really slippery one…

Edward Limonov

Hammer, Sickle and bouquet: the sweet smell of victory.

Meanwhile it was my turn to speak about Savenko. I have repeated Beliak's statement about Savenko's old-aged parents, about his 60 years of age, about one-half of sentence served, which Savenko lived in prisons in Moscow and Saratov. The major Nefedov, spokesman from Administration of colony have said that Savenko proved to be a man without penalties during his stay in colony, but also he proved to have no encouragements. Good, quiet man. Administration have no objections to his liberation. Then judge started to read all the papers what he is collected from all sides. Savenko was highly prized by his editors, by GosDuma deputies, by literary unions of a few countries.

Public prosecutor Thorn said that Savenko have not reformed yet, he is only on his way to reformation. Big old fly managed to flow into airconditioned office following camouflaged major Alekseev, who said something to major Nefedov and left. But old fly didn't left. It produced heavy metallic noise. Prosecutor Thorn said that Savenko shouldn't be set free. It's to early for him. Actually, said Thorn, prisoner have to spend a six monthes inside a colony before he should be elligible for Administrations «kharacteristika,» — reference. Thorn smiled and have seated. The fate of Savenko was not enviable. He will stay longer in our colony?

Edward Limonov

Back at the Bunker, Limonov sizes up the new crop of NatsBols.
The FSB's crude crackdown has been the best recruitment drive booster yet.

Beliak asked for reply. Judge gave him permission to speak. Beliak said that prosecutor Thorne is lying, Thorne a liar. Six months regulation was abandoned by Russian law some time ago. Then, how prosecutor could know that Savenko is not reformed, by his eyes, by his ears?

Judge have announced thirty minutes break. All of us, me including, went to corridor where we started to discuss Savenko's fate. Nobody was sure about his fate. Beliak said that he didn't expected prosecutor Thorn's intervention, Beliak was sorry. A man from Saratov's Governor's office said that 90% Savenko will be liberated.» 10%, he said, «of course nobody can exclude the possiblity of some unexpected turn of events.»

Judge speak in one hour. From his first sentence it was clear that Savenko will be set free, his lawyers demand about liberation have to be satisfied. Beliak was happy. Mishin was happy, even major Nefedov was happy. Journalists were allowed to the Zorin's office with their cameras and equipement. I said that I am happy for Savenko. That justice is triumphed. Second time justice is triumphed said I. That I think Savenko will be resting after his liberation. That he will certainly go to visit his old-aged parents to the Ukranian city of Kharkov.

Edward Limonov

Three good reasons to go radical right now. Can expats join the NBP?

It was some hesitation about time of Savenko's liberation. Finally, I understood that Savenko will stay inside of our colony for another 10 days, because during those ten days public prosecutor have a right to send a protest against judge's decision.

I said goodbye to lawyers and journalists and waited for Ali-Pasha to come. Ali-Pasha as a good man have congratulated me with a liberation of Savenko. And we walked both amongst the roses, under chemical wind, between the yellow baracks of colony, surrounded by blue grills. Blue sky, green trees. Endless delegations have visited that our Colony No.13, because it is beautiful place. Prisoners at our detachment No.13 (of Colonie No.13) were happy for Savenko's coming release.

In the evening prisoners of 13th detachment come back from their work-places at «prom-zone.» Heavy brass-music sounds twice during the day at Colony No.13. In the morning, at about 7:30, prisoners leaving colony for work, and after 18:30, they are entering the colony. That evening our workers looked especially unhappy. The rumor spread that most of them were beaten up, because yesterday they produced defective goods. The «goods» — the casings of gas-meters. Made of cast-steel these casings of gas-meters supposed to be worked with file. Norm for one prisoner is 30 gas-meters casings per day. To fulfill such norm is impossible task. So, in a rash to fulltfill it, our fellows have produced 500 defected gas-meter casings. One by one they been summoned to a warden's officers at prom-zona and beaten-up with a wodden hummer. Two or three of them could barely walk. No commission will ever discover these beaten prisoners. New, brave, human rights activist should show Colony No.13 to the world.

Edward Limonov

Check-out time: slightly over two years.
Her bulldog-faced boss don't look happy, do he?

Prosecutor Ship-Thorn threatened Savenko on June 24. In interview to Engels city newspaper «Our Word» he said the he wrote a protest against Savenko's liberation. Then number of television stations and newspapers have announced that Thorn did submit his protest to the Court of Saratovskaya oblast. On June 28 Savenko's dairy, what he kept in colony, was stolen. On June 30, Savenko was walked out of colony and faced his lawyers, journalists and friends. Prosecutor Thorn didn't submit protest to the Court of Saratov's region. He just wanted to suck some more of Savenko's blood.

#13(170), July 10–24, 2003

The first days of a liberated criminal

The warden («hozyain») of my prison colony, colonel Zorin, opened the door for me. In doing so, he inhaled part of his big stomach, otherwise I could not have passed him in the narrow corridor to freedom. The colonel grinned to journalists and I stepped outside. I saw a terrible looking industrial zone. Grey delapidated buildings made of old concrete, deep dust, everything looked disgusting. So, my first words to the free world were: «How disgusting! At least we have roses in our colony.»

Then I saw the friendly National-Bolshevik faces of Anatoli, Misha, Dimitri, and Abel. The faces of journalists and the lenses of their cameras and video cameras. Dimitri opened a champagne bottle, we started to drink, but an officer of colony asked us to move out of the area.

Then my lawyer Sergei Beliak, Anatoli and I got into red «inomarka,» [foreign car] that Andrei Mishin, a lawyer from Saratov, borrowed for the occasion. Journalists, meanwhile, had moved to their cars. Mishin succeeded in escaping from journalists' cars. He drove artistically through the back streets of Engels City toward the bank of the Volga. First we drove to the nearest «Gastronom» were my lawyer bought whisky, beer and champagne. We drank part of it inside of our red «inomarka.» Whiskey tasted like good old times in New York, but I was careful, I was afraid of getting drunk. Because I didn't drink all those years in prison, so I didn't know how I would be affected.

We drove to the bank of the Volga River. Or, rather it was some channel of the Volga. My lawyer Beliak and I, both tatooed, stepped into muddy waters of mother Volga. Lawyer Beliak has a colourful dragon on his shoulder and arm, tatooed in Thailand. I had black «Vigor» shorts on. The water smelled as free Russian muddy river water should smell: of adventure, of travelling to Caspian sea, towards Iranian coast, of contraband and revolution in Kazakhstan.

Then we went to the press-conference in Saratov. Questions, answers. About thirty media men and women. Afterwards, National-Bolsheviks, Beliak and I walked the streets of Saratov. The weather was hot and sunny. Some people recognized and congratulated me, some shook my hand. I insisted we walk to the local FSB building. A group of FSB-men were positioned near the entrance to the building. Recognizing me, they stared at our group. They were visibly very shocked by this visit by me, enemy of the state. At a street-cafe I had a glass of red wine and smoked a Cuban cigar.

At the train-station I found out that a dozen journalists will be going with us: my old friend Dimitry Bikov, two cameramen of REN-TV, many others. Finding places for all our crowd took us a while. Then we started to talk and drink and eat. Two photographers were shooting from the river banks, and a television camera was shooting from the corridor. I remember that far into the night somebody brought two big one-liter bottles of vodka.

When I opened my eyes it was exactly 5:45. This was always time to get up at Prison Colony No.13. The door of our compartment was open. Lawyer Beliak was seated in corridor, reading a book about Napoleon Bonaparte. Dima Bikov was snoring on the upper bench.

After some time we saw in the windows a Moscow suburb. It was raining and the small stations were almost deserted. About ten kilometres from Moscow I started getting nervous. I thought about arriving in Moscow «incognito,» getting out of train at a small station, but it was obviously too late. Then we saw the asphalt platform. We could hear people shouting. Masses of people were shouting something. «What are they shouting?» I asked National-Bolshevik Misha. «They are shouting 'Our name is Edward Limonov,» — he said. I thought about hiding somewhere.

But I got out of the train. I was deafened by shouting. I saw faces and faces and faces of National-Bolsheviks, girls and boys. Also I saw the bald head of Duma member Shandybin, as well as the friendly face of State Duma Deputy Colonel Victor Alksnis. And our National-Bolsheviks' flags and slogans. «Limonov instead of Putin!» shouted the National-Bolsheviks. They looked very happy, though wet. They were as enthusiastic as little devils. Most of them were unknown to me. A new generation of National-Bolsheviks has joined the Party during my prison term.

I said that prison didn't change my political opinions. «I will not give up a millimetre of my political beliefs.» I said, «Our party will defend the rights of 27 million Russians outside of Russia.» I said that we will act against the powerful energy monopolists, such as UES and Gazprom. That we will fight against this paternalist state, for a parliamentary republic. We will defend prisoners in the medevial Russian penitentiary system. We will fight for liberty.

A young man from the National-Bolshevik crowd gave me a big bottle — a «Magnum» of champagne. I opened and took a swig of it, encouraged by the shouting and happy noise of National-Bolsheviks. I went down stairs of Paveletskaya train-station, to the black «Mercedes» of my lawyer and friend Beliak. «Find me Nastya!» I asked National-Bolshevik bodyguard Olga. In a minute Nastya was sitting next to me on the back seat of Mercedes. Olga was in the front seat. National-Bolshevik Misha was on my left.

Little Nastya hadn't changed a lot. Maybe she got taller a few centimetres, that is all. She always managed to look strange. Heavy boots with white socks, velour hat, naked legs, small skirt and big knapsack. She looked like Red Riding Hood escaping from her grandmother. «Are you with me?» — I asked her. She said: «Yes, with you.» Simple as that. That little girl waited for me while I was in prison.

Through the rainstorm the Mercedes pushed its way to the Party headquarters. A crowd was waiting there. We went up the good old staircases that I constructed myself in 1995! Inside I found hundreds of National-Bolsheviks. Olga brought a bottle of cognac bottled in 1943, a present from Boris Berezovsky, so we drank to my liberation. I started a press-conference that was also a meeting of the National-Bolshevik party…

Later that afternoon I was traveling from one television station to another with Beliak, Olga, a cute blonde girl-master of close combat, Misha who looks like a young Clark Gable, and little Nastya. At Ostankino, between two television interviews, I had my first Moscow dinner. With red wine. Because of my French passport.

At night I was delivered to the apartment of a National-Bolshevik official. Accompanied by little Nastya. National-Bolsheviks prepared us food and gave us a radio, a few bottles of wine, clean sheets and toothbrushes. There, on a water-bed, tiny Nastya and I made love. It was great to make love with her.

#14(171), July 24 — August 21, 2003


Recently it was a lot of noise in Russian medias about change of literature program for Russian schools. Some prominent writers even have wrote an open letter ot the government, urging, «Do not touch a programmed books.» Liberals pretended that Pasternak's Doctor Zhivago going to be replaced by Nikolai Ostrovsky's How the Steel Was Tempered, the Soviet novel of education of young Communist party cadre. The novel's hero — Pavel Korchagin, in fact was educated, tempered by Revolution and Civil War. In the Soviet Union, How the Steel Was Tempered was obligatory taught to few generations of Russian pupils, was one of a few foundation stones of Soviet man's formation.

As to Doctor Zhivago, Boris Pasternak also placed his hero amongst Civil War events, but Civil War was regarded from a point of view of intelligentsia. Doctor Zhivago — a clumsy work of professional poet — was immediately encouraged by the West. Pasternak was awarded a Nobel Prize. Doctor Zhivago symbolized a turning point of Russian Soviet history, the end of Stalin's frozen era and beginning of era of «thaw.» The thaw was set in by Khrushchev. That bloody thaw finally developed to a flood, and by 1991 inundated the Soviet Union to the point of disintegration of a Soviet system. For the liberals, Doctor Zhivago is adorable liberal novel of Great Importance, whereas How the Steel Was Tempered is dear to the heart of communist orthodoxes.

Am I standing for Doctor Zhivago or for How the Steel Was Tempered? If judged by literary qualities, both novels are mediocre productions. If judged by its political and social impact on education of contemporary Russian youth, both novels will have no impact whatsoever, because they deal with lost forever reality. Russian youngster will be unable to imagine inserting himself into those historical circumstances, they are too far away from him. It is almost century ago Pavel Korchagin maybe passed Dr. Zhivago somewhere on the street of Kiev, and probably have arrested him on the suspicion of being an enemy of people. So, it is no importance, will be a school program requiring from a youngster to read «Doctor…» or a «…Steel Tempered…»

However, here is visible an obvious desire of Putin's government to resurrect a Russian collective patriotism, and to put down individualism of Doctors Zhivagos. For a purpose of a war in Chechnya Pavel Korchagin is preferable type of man, while individualist Zhivago is no good at all. For the very same utilitarian end Putin's administration pompously glorifying the Great Patriotic War of 1941–1945. I remember when in 1991, 1992, 1993, we radicals and and communists were lonely celebrating the Day of Victory — the May 9th. In those years Russian government was absent from celebration.

Nowadays government is first to howl about veterans, Great Patriotic War, the victims…The users play on the feelings of people. Our Patriotic War as a matter of fact is blasphemed by present government. Driving foreign cars, visiting foreign countries, wearing foreign clothes, having foreign bank accounts, those well-fed swines shamelessly asking school children to follow example of idealist Korchagin — the alter ego of his creator-writer-communist Nikolai Ostrovsky, sick from tuberculosis, blind because of old wounds. «Go, Pavel, go to Grozny, to Gudermes, to Chechen mountains, where fighting you gonna lost your limbs, would be wounded, very probably killed…»

But isn't it a duty, moral obligation of patriotic youth to die for its Patrie? For Russia? Yes, sure. But behind Pavel Korchagin was a different country than Russia of Putin. Behind Korchagin he has a masses of people living a socialism-system of equality, having the same wages, wearing the same clothes, sharing the same destiny, sharing the war also. That was no Abramovich, no Deripaska, no Mamuts and Potanins behind Korchagin. He has no behind him a Moscow of shiny offices and Mercedeses, no casinos and no restaurants, where one meal cost as much as Korchagin might gain in three months of hard work at the factory. So Korchagin was lightheartedly doing his heroical deeds because lost limbs and terrible wounds are nothing in comparison with a Great Deed o defending people, defending Socialist State.

No, Mister Putin, don't wait for a new Korchagins to appear. They will not come out of Russian schools, even if Minister of Education Fillipov will force children to memorize by heart entire novel How the Steel Was Tempered. Russian soldiers will continue to escape from an army of divided Russia, where the handful of rich and 76 millions of underprivileged sharing the same territory.

As a matter of fact the literature will not help to restore the unity of Russian society. In order to unite Russians Korchagin as a model is as helpless as Zhivago. Meanwhile the recipe is available but not out of the field of literature: the government should outlaw the personal capital of more than one hundred thousand dollars, to nationalize all natural resources, all commodities as oil, gas, electricity companies, forest resources, to establish a minimum wages for workers. Putin and company will never do that. That is why they are attempting to employ the novels: in order to avoid revolution. But revolution will come anyway. Did you hear me, well-fed swines?

#15(172), August 21 — September 4, 2003

Your election is coming, criminals, congratulations!

They were looking terribly stupid, those aged men, crowded on the stage at Manezh. One, named Schmidt Dzoblaev, was even wearing Caucuses shapka on his head. Russian bureaucrats have special talent to look stupid. That was on the first day of Exhibition of Parties' Achievements. Veshnyakov — a head of Central Electoral Commission — was standing at the head of that aged crowd, happy face of maniac shining as Jack Nicholson's face at famous movie thriller «Shining»… That was such degree of vulgarity at Manezh that day that simple action of vomiting will not be enough.

At the last day of Exhibition two National-Bolsheviks, comrades Nikolai Madvedev, 19, and Sergei Manjos, 25, couldn't stand it. One of them, Nikolai, squeezed a bag of mayonnaise and a jet of white liquid heated Veshnyakov's jacket. Maniac didn't finished a phrase about «honest elections» in Russia, so he was stuck with an open mouth. Behind him Communist Party leader Zyuganov, Agrarian Party leader Lapshin, Liberal-Democrat Zhirinovsky and few others were waiting as children of a school for retarded kids.

Comrade Manjos or somebody else throwed leaflets at the crowd of spectators. «Veshnyakov,» said leaflet, «stop to play a comedy! What do you say about honest elections, what fucking honest elections you talking? Ministry of Justice is not registering parties, Central Electoral Commission performs by demand of government all dirty tricks with signatures of voters and with bulletins. Those your activities are honest elections?»

In meantime Minister Veshnyakov's guardians were savagely beating Nikolai Medvedev. Spectators were reading leaflets and expressed their solidarity with National-Bolsheviks. «Why they beat a boy, as if he had a bomb throwed?» said some of spectators.

The very next day Party headquarters have received a phone call from Ministry of Justice. They said to us that our application for a registration as an all-Russian political party is not satisfactory. They say that their «No» has nothing to do with an incident at Manezh. Nothing at all. That Ministry of Justice have decided our destiny on August 18. Of course they lie. Because we submitted our application and few kilograms of documentation just on August 7. Normally they need a month to check them out, those documents. Government just got so angry at our mayonnaise assassination of high state official that they acted in a rash of revenge, those Russian state «dyadkas,» those rednecks. That happened on 28th of August.

The day after, Mister Melnikov, a head of electoral staff of Communist Party of Russian Federation (KPRF), have called me at very evening.

«Edward Veniaminovich, I want to be honest with you,» said Melnikov. «We cannot include you and your people in our electoral list.»

«Yes,» I said, «yes, Ivan Ivanovich. I understand your decision.»

And I understand. Because I saw Zyuganov's face when he was standing behind mayonnaised Veshnyakov.

Also I saw Zhirinovsky's face. And I heard what he, Zhirinovsky, have said. He demanded to punish severely those terrible perpetrators, those two, but also to punish organizers. Zhirinovsky said that political parties should unite their forces against that terrible menace of mayonnaise and leaflet assaults.

Zyuganov, it is widely known, is selling places on his party list for 2 millions US dollars. Zhirinovsky selling his places for 3 millions. Of course they need to defend themselves and their belongings from such perpetrators as National-Bolsheviks. Honest and naive idealists always a menace to dirty and corrupted. No, Zyuganov is not placing those millions in his own pocket, but in the pocket of Communist Party. Zhirinovsky probably taking biggest part of 3 millions to himself. Veshnyakov is placed by Putin's government as a chief supervisor of all Electoral System. Everything was functioning perfectly well before, if not those boys, Nikolai, blond, 19, from Chelyabinsk, and Sergei, from miner's town of Schakhti.

On August 29, I contacted very good aggressive lawyer, Sergei Zelgin. After eight hours of negotiations with militiamen, with prosecutor's office, with an administration of place of detention, lawyer succeeded in getting out our comrades. Why? He is a very good lawyer, of course. But also because government decided not to intervene. They decided that persecution of National-Bolsheviks will have negative impact upon elections, will create an unpopular public opinion. So they didn't send any command to Persecutor's Office. Militiamen were confused, documents for judge were not prepared. So lawyer Sergei Zelgin took our boys to his office, where I picked them up.

No, they are not free to go, they signed a pledge to stay at hand of prosecution. Charges will be brought, but on August 29 lawyer saved them from going to Butirka prison. For now.

As to Russian electoral system that is perfectly organized crime. As a Malaysian — made Cartier watch it looks like Cartier watch to the details but it's fake, it will stop in few weeks, some part will be broken immediately, others — tomorrow. As a Malaysia-made Cartier watch, Russian electoral system is counterfeit to the bone. Voters are raped at least three times. First time when Ministry of Justice is registering or not registering parties according to the orders from Kremlin. Second time when Minister Veshnyakov and his staff are deciding who will be allowed to participate in elections. Third time when Veshnyakov will manipulate the results of elections, to manipulate over 15% for some parties who are friends of Kremlin. And of course to deprive 5% for parties who are less desirable for Kremlin. In country as Russia 5% that is about 6 million voters. In whole Belorussia they have less voters, Chekhia and Slovakia together have less voters. But in Russia each six millions will not have their representatives in Parliament, if their parties are unacceptable to Kremlin.

My beloved country producing such organized mass-crime every four years. Russian Federation, proud member of Europe. What a Europe you are talking about! It should be located next to Liberia in Africa, next to ritual eaters of human kidneys.

«Congratulations!» That is how National-Bolsheviks leaflet, thrown at Manezh, have started. Congratulations, political criminals, haters of freedom, eaters of kidneys. Your election is coming.

#16(173), September 4–18, 2003

Boris Berezovski in all his glory of political refugee

On September 11, Great Britain have accorded political asylum to the most notorious refugee from Russia: to Boris Abramovich Berezovski. I never met him personally. Once, we, members of National-Bolsheviks Party have staged a mass anti-Berezovski demonstration in front of building of «LogoVaz» — his headquarters. Despite of that demonstration he helped me little bit with money when I was imprisoned. Then it was a bottle of cognac.

Edward Limonov

Opening Berezovski's cognac gift.

The rumor about him, presenting me with a bottle of cognac of 1943, the year of my birth, is not a rumor, but a very true. That bottle, its neck sealed with a white sealing wax, was presented to my party comrades during ceremony of my 60th anniversary at the House of Writers on February 26, 2003. Then, liberated, on July 1st, I ordered to open it at Party Headquarters on 2nd Frunzenskaya and we have drunk it together [see photo] with the bottles of champagne. Everybody, who happened to stay around me, theoretically, we all have drunk Berezovski's cognac. In reality, practical non drinking karate-kid, girl named Olga, one of my body-guards, have saved about half a bottle. Later, I have finished that historical bottle together with a King of Russian PR: Stanislav Belkovski: that very man who by order of Berezovski have created «Edinstvo» in 1999 and in 2003 started attack on «YUKOS». Why so, why Belkovski, because he is not anymore a collaborator of Berezovski? Because it happened that way. What about cognac? It tasted pretty good. It was dark brown nice liquid, smelling of old oak-made barrel. Belkovski guarded the bottle as souvenir, 'cause it has an inscription to me from Berezovski.

Well known that Berezovski was a powerful figure behind political stage of Russia. He helped to inthroned Yeltsin in 1996 and Putin in 2000. He was most powerful from oligarchs surrounding Kremlin's throne. Then he was ousted, for reasons we don't know, but rather because Mr.Putin wanted to liberate himself of all his creditors. Through Paris Berezovski vent to London. As he puted it: «To Paris (Russians) traveled to relax, but they emigrated to London.» Sounds as Oscar Wilde's aphorism.

Berezovski started his political struggle with Putin and his regime in the end of July of 2002. From a public hearings, organized at Moscow's hotel, Baltchug-Kempinski. Public Commission, formed for investigation of terrorist attacks in Moscow in autumn of 1999, was headed by Sergei Kovalyov. Commission was connected by video-conference to London, where the witnesses: subcolonel Alexander Litvinenko and writer Yuri Felshtinski have testified. They have known to the commission sensational testimony of Atchemez Gotchiaev, who is wanted by Russian Special Services for organization of terrorist acts in Moscow. But Gotchiaev testified that terrorist acts were organized by FSB, As Litvinenko and Felshtinski were Berezovski's men, actually Berezovski have accused Putin's Federal Service of Security of organizing in the end of 1999 explosions, namely in Moscow, on Kashirski Shosse, and Gurianova Street, as well as in town of Vogodonsk.

According to the facts, presented by Novaya Gazeta and Kommersant, the same explosion was prepared by FSB to take place in Ryazan, but vigilance of inhabitants and of local militia helped to avoid that explosion. FSB claimed later that it have planned and executed anti-terrorist «utchenia» [exercise]. In 2003 Novaya Gazeta No.16 have published a text of video and audio interview of Atchemez Gotchiaev himself. In his interview Gochiaev confirmed that he only rented the premises for warehouses, that he did it by insistence of a man, later to be proved an FSB agent.

Berezovski's goal in investigation of explosions in Moscow and Volgodonsk he expressed himself as following: «We achieved a main goal, what I have named for myself: that is changement of social conscience in Russia. The pools of public opinion have showed: more than 50 percent of people are convinced that those explosions were organized by Secret Services [of Russia]. More than that: the question was formulated in most perverted form: 'Do you believe in Berezovski's version, that it is deed of FSB hands?' And still, 53 percents have answered: yes, we believe. Counting that my name was pronounced in official polling question together with question, I think in reality more than 70 percent are believing. That was my main goal. I understood, however, that power cannot put herself in prison.»

In that quotation is interesting that Berezovski is aware of rejection that his name producing amongst some Russians. Archetypical Jew, with a voice of and face of villain of cinema, he is aware of his limitations. But to 53 percent of Russians he is believable, worth to believe. It is a lot in the country where anti-Semite feelings are steel strong.

Most brilliant political move was made by Berezovski when he proposed his money to Russian Communists. He proposed 100 million dollars to Zuganov to help them topple present government. That proposal is evidence of both: of Machiavellian Berezovski's mind and of his broad thinking. Before that step towards Communist opposition Berezovski was an influential oligarch, skoolbook financial adventurer of Staviski type, seeking to broaden the limits of his influence. But when he proposed his money to Communist Party of Russia, he stepped out of his image of the oligarch, and that of «money bag.» He transgressed the borders of oligarch, he stepped with both feet on territory of politics. In fact he is only one in modern times, who proposed to build up his supposed class enemy.

Unfortunately for them and for Russia, Zuganov and his consorts proved to be an ordinary people without a trace of Berezovski's genius. Communists declined those millions, because they have fear that their electorate will turn out from the a 'cause Berezovski's help. Exception is only one, editor-in-chief of Zavtra Alexander Prokhanov, who accepted some money from Berezovski. But not poligraphy, not quality, not circulation of his newspaper didn't improved after his visit to London.

So, question is: what Prokhanov did with Berezovski's money? Stuffed at stocking? Very probably that yes, stuffed. Communist Party of Russia cowardly declined Berezovski's money. That is no Lenins amongst them.

Russian power, Mr.Putin and his man feel great menace coming from that man in London. Political menace, because Berezovski is a «God» who created them all. They feel like a little Frankensteins, who have rebelled against their Creator to whom they are all indebted. Because he awarded them with life. It's always irritating to be indebted.

I like Berezovski more and more. Exiled he looks noble. Berezovski is a type of anxious, never-satisfied life-eater, of warrior, the person who lives by the energy of conflict. Abroad, in Great Britain, he is forced to exist without conflict, in order to preserve himself from a Russian prison. He wants badly to go out of that golden cage of London, again go to exciting life of conflicts in Russia. He is not interested in money. Money is only fuel to his conflicts.

Congratulations, nevertheless, Boris Abramovich, with your newly acquired status of political refugee! Glory, glory alliluakh!

#17(174), September 18 — October 2, 2003

Lituatian transit

September 14, 10 a.m. I'am alerted by telephone call from Party headquarters. Our boys have occupied carriage of «Moscow-Kaliningrad train» — said voice.»They just called by mobile-phone from that carriage. From lituanian rail-way station Kena, on the border.»

«Who they are?» asked I.

«Collected team from Moscow, Saint-Petersbourgh, Omsk, Nijni Novgorod, Briansk, Tula and Orenbourgh, also Tcheboksari. Sixteen camarades. They have chained themselves to a metal frames of carriage, then they teared to pieces lituanian transit visas. 'We are going from Russia to Russia. We don't need visas,' — they said to lituanian frontier guards. They also blocked the locks by injecting a glue in them.»'About the same time participants of action giving an interviews to radio «Eco of Moscow».

«Action oriented to get attention of Russians and Lituanians to the problem and to attain a right of access to Kaliningrad without visas, We believe that transit visas for Russian citizens are humiliation. We belive that visas are the first step in process of isolation of Kaliningrad region for eventual taking over of that territory, for separation it from Russia.»

Same day. 12:10. The carriage No.2 unhooked from «Moscow — Kaliningrad» train. Lituanian special police force, armed with automatic rifles, is preparing to storm Russian carriage. By mobile phone National Bolsheviks raporting, «Here are all special police forces of Lituania!»

12:35. Special police force have started a storm what was lasting more than 30 minutes.

13:05. Last message come frome inside of carriage, from Roman Popkov.

«That is end of it. They are breaking the door of a last compartment.»

16:15. Same day. More then one hundred National Bolsheviks have staged a meeting in front of Lituanian Embassy in Moscow. They chant:

«Kaliningrad is Russian city!» «Freedom to political prisoners!» «We are demanding a free corridor!» National Bolsheviks have leaved an address to Lituanian ambassador with demand to free sixteen camarades detained on rail-way station Kena.

18:11. Representative of Foreign Affairs Ministry, someone called Aschotov, declared: «Foreign Affairs Ministry denouncing unlawful prank of 'Limonovtsi' which prank one can with a full right to caracterise as political hooliganism, having for goal to get some effect in contexte of coming Election of a State Duma of Russian Federation.»

Needless to say that Aschotov was lieing. National-Bolsheviks Party cannot participate at Election of State Duma, because Putin's Ministry of Justice refusing to register NBP.

September 16. The Court of Wilnuss, capital of Lituania, announced its decision to arrest 16 «Limononvets» for 14 days,— until investigation of train occupation will ended. National — Bolsheviks been transferred to Wilnuss, to a prison «Lukishkes.» That very day Sergei Iliukhin celebrating his 18th birthday. In prison. Cameraman of NTV Alexei Zolotov, detained together with National-Bolsheviks was fined to 300 lites (about 3,000 rubles) and deported from Lituania. «He breaked a rule of regime of frontier territory, when he filmed an action of protest by National-Bolsheviks Party in train «Moscow — Kaliningrad», said Court of Wilnuss. His camera and casset with a filmed material was detained by the Court. Zolotov filmed beatings of National-Bolshewiks by lituanian police during their arrest, so no wonder that his camera was ceased.

September 17, Russian consul in Lituania Azamat Ablaev have visited each of detained National-Bolshewiks. Alexei Zolotov arrived at Moscow. At 19 hours News at NTV reportage about Sunday action of National-Bolshewiks was a first news.September 18. At prison Lukishkes in Wilnuss National-Bolshewik Andrei

Yanushkin celebrated his 17th birthday. Andrei is National-Bolshewik from Orenburgh.

September 19. Wilnuss Court have started hearings. The hall of Court was crowded by 16 accused, 13 lawyers, two prosecutors, two translators, as well as two representatives of Russian Embassy in Lituania, and Lituanian journalists. Our camarades were driven in by three «Land Rovers» of lituanian border police. The juge Victoras Dovidaitis have read to accused their rights, and prosecutor have explained his criminal charge. According to him National-Bolshewiks have throwed leaflets, disturbed the fonctions of lituanian authorities, have used dirty words and by all this have breaked public order.

Afterwords juge have started to ask each accused if he understand an accusation and have he or she (it was two girls between accused) to confess his guilt. Nobody have recognized his guilt. Cross-examination of witnesses have proved that National-Bolshewiks have not pronounced insulting words or dirty words addressing lituanian state, or lituanian authorities. The olny non-literary words prononced were: «Hands up, blia!» screamings of lituanian special police members during storm of carriage. The examination of video-materials confirmed: it was no insults.

Court also didn't find that breaking public orders were serious: National-Bolshewiks were not resisted, and rail-way traffic was interrupted only for 1 hour 40 minutes.

Nevertheless prosecutor demanded to underaged participants of action a penalty of 40 days in prison and for adult participants up to 70 days of imprisonment. National-Bolshewiks met these demands, smiling happily.

Because they sounded unsignificant if compared with sentenced given for similar actions in Latvia: 6, 5 and 1 years of prison, or even compared with Sebastapol's action, were 15 National-Bolshewiks have spended in Ukrainian prison six months.

September 25. 12:00. At Malii Zal of State Duma press conference of E.Limonov and deputy of State Duma Victor Alksnis «From Russia to Russia without Visa.»

September 25. About 15 hours. Wilnuss court have sentence under-aged National-Bolshewiks to 20 days of imprisonment, and adults to 40 days of imprisonment each. Happy end for a Party who counted ten political prisoners on September 14.

But the very next day, on September 26, Belgorod's Court have sentenced Anna Petrrenko, the leader of National-Bolshewik's of Belgorods region to three years of imprisonment. She was arrested immediately. Her child was taken away and placed to Social help organization. Three years for a young woman, it's sad.

P.S. For those readers of «Exile» who are only «straight intestine» [»priamaya Kishka»] National bolshewiks and their activities are, of course, irritating. But I write for other type of Exile readers, I am sure they are numerous, for those who take life painfully serious. For those, who believe in death.

#18(175), October 2–16, 2003

Men without women

Men without Women, it is a title of Ernest Hemingway's collection of a short stories, most of which are somehow related to a war. First World War, if to be exact. Wars changed a lot from Hemingways time, women where awaylable at my wars which I lived and fighted in 90's. The only territory where women are unaccessable is prison territory.

Because they are unreachable, they are hated in prison. Their names are cursed, damned, soiled, caricatured and masturbated on. Women are regarded as genetically unfaithful, polygames, unstable, compulsive liars, dirty, always ready to sex with strangers, unmoral. All women of reproductive age for a prisoner are worst than prostitutes, they are animals. Very known Russian slang word «tiolka,» was born in prison and later made its way out to the free world. «Tiolka» is a young cow, young animal. So a male prisoner treats all women as animals.

Freshly arrested, a prisoner not becoming a women hater overnight. In the first months he is tied up with a big world across the bars, he is receiving letters, once in few months he could see his wife or girl-friend through the thick glass of prison room for rendezvous. But with time those letters, smelling of perfume, more and more rare guests in his sell. Rendezvous, oh, once he is seeing blue bruises on the skin of the neck of his beloved creature. Across that dirty thick prison glass, only for a moment, but afterwords, he remembers blue bruises, powdered of course, because she is not a silly one, his beloved female. Those bruises, a prisoner knows are traces of some man kisses, left on the body of his wife! Not, not that, he is training himself to believe that he didn't see bruises, or they are left not by kisses. At next rendezvous, prisoner wants to start a conversation about origin of those blue bruises, «you know, honey, you are, seems to me, are… unfaithful to me?»

She was probably ready for that reaction. She explodes happily: «What?! You suspecting me of unfidelity, you?!» And she walks out. That was a trap for you, so she could stop those painful rendezvous, across a prison glass, that sweet lie in the dirty membrane of a dirty prison telephone, smelling trouble. But she still writes you letters telling you how selfish you are, how egotistical you, prisoner, are. One or two letters. Because she got tired of playing that awful part of prisoners beloved creature. Because her nature pushed her to fuck, to be petted and kissed by strangers. That it is your, prisoners fault that you got arrested and throwed behind the bars.

But some womens attention to prisoner lasted longer. I saw myself a letter from his beloved received by prisoner of penetentiary colony No.13, Alexei, four days before his liberation. His girl-friend had been strong, faithful for five years. Then: «Don't make a search of me. Even don't try. I have a man, who loves me, and I am happy with him.» Cold wind was blowing from Asian steppes near Volga, that small piece of paper in Alexei's hands was like a flag of capitulation, of defeat. Tall, young man of 28, always smiling before, was not like a beaten dog. «I don't understand,» he repeated, «I don't understand, her previous letters during all those years were so sweet.»

They are all traitors of men, sooner or later. Girl-friends, married with children, non-married. Children are reason for a longer and more sofisticated lie, not for fidelity. Women with children are covering their sex activities more carefully. Sooner or later prisoners discover harsh truth about their women. That is why they call them animal names, and Russian men call young women «tiolkas.» Because at any given time Russian penetentiary system housing over one million men without women.

Only one type of woman is respected in prison. That is mother of a prisoner. Killer or robber, rapist or mass murderer, he is child of his mother. Mother is woman past reproductive age, so she cannot betray her son, she cannot deprive him of her body. Mother is an icon in prison. Prison songs dedicated to mother are numerous and the best. They are touching, melodramatic, and tragic. At the same time, interesting to note that prisoners are not moved by the mothers of their children, their wives are not respected by them. Old mother of prisoner very probably have something to do in establishing a Russian cult of Mother Russia. Mother Russia is also an old woman, who is past reproductive age. I think that most probable origin of Mother Russia is prison. Then Mother Russia spread to «free» Russian world. Other nations such as Yankees, Brits and French, have no cults of old women mothers. Where is Mother England? Mother America? As to French they worship a young republic — Maryanne with big tits.

Prison sex is copulation with phantoms. Medivial monks called women-phantoms, coming to them at night — succubs. (Women-monks called phantom men coming to their cells — incubus.) Every prisoner have his own succubus. I suspect that succubi of prisoners are those same dirty, unfaithful, unmoral girl-friends or wifes. At Saratov's central prison in cell No.125 we had a comfortable place for masturbation. Our toilet in the corner of the cell, near the door was a sort of platform, with a wall on one side. Toilet was protected from the eyes of others in cell by screen, made of old drapes. When not needed, screen was folded. That was place of our love rendezvous with our succubi. Out of shyness we didn't make our love loudly. Lover would turn on water to highest, and under murmur of the water would copulate with his beloved succubus.

#19(176), October 16–30, 2003

The night of a living dead

Whole that day of August 31, 2001, I felt unusual unrest and anxiety. However without visible reason. It was usual prison day at Lefortovo: under the light of two electrical bulbs one always feels like a tortured animal. Light bulbs, the noises of radio, pale face of my cell-mate bandit Mishka, everything was at place, everyday banal process of torturing was going on. But today as in addition I felt like a heavy weight was placed on me. At first I thought that I becoming psychopat. «Edward, you are finally giving up, after those months of prison life,» — said I to myself. Then I thought that some trouble coming. Some more trouble, because I was in trouble up to the neck. It was already 5 p.m., only one hour before the end of prison working day, when prison soldier opened a feeding hole and said: «Savenko, be ready to go. Without belongings.»

«Without belongings» signified that I was summoned up inside of prison. While putting my best clothes on I thought that my lawyer Beliak came to visit me too late in the day, we will not be able to talk much. Then door opened, I stepped out. Soldiers searched me. Then I stepped to the left. «Not this way. Go other way,» said mustached soldier. It was clear then, that I am going to Investigators office and not to the lawyers' room.

Prison was quiet and silent. At third floor my guard soldier stoped and pushed the button on the wall. The door to investigator's building have opened. I went down the corridor to the lieutenant-colonel Schischkin's office. The guard, according to prison's internal regulations, was walking after me.

At chief investigator Schischkin's office, beside happy looking maniac Schischkin I found both my lawyers: Beliak and Ivanov. Beliak was wearing a leather jacket and he wasn't looking happy. He hugged me with unusual warm. «Listen, Edward, lieutenant-colonel Schischkin is going to present you with an accusation papers.» Then Beliak stoped. He cleared his throat. «Unfortunately for us the suckers decided to accuse you of terrorism. Of organization unlawful armed formation and of course of buying arms and explosives.» Lawyer Ivanov, wearing gold-rimmed glasses had confirmed Beliak's words with his face. He had a face of a man who came to my funeral.

Then happy Schischkin — young man growing bald — stood up. In his quiet voice he read an accustion papers. «Edward Savenko, alias Limonov, in 1999–2000 in his capacity of a leader National-Bolsheviks Party have worked out for his party a programme of action. Consequently Savenko published said programme in December 1999 at bulletin «NBP-Info» No.3 and forced to accept it by delegates of Third Party Congress in February 2000.»

After that, read Schischkin, «Savenko took measures of organizing armed invasion on territory of Republic of Kazakhstan for commiting the actions of terrorist character. Instructive letters which he sended to the regional party leaders demanded each one leader to sort out candidates for including them into unlawful armed formation. The place for gathering those volunteers of said formation was found in one of the regions of Altai Republic. Then Savenko have alloted money for buying some weapons for a said formation. In the same time Savenko with an aid of party activists have studied on territory of Altai Republic those paths headed to the border with Kazakhstan. And have fulfilled the exploration of Kazakhstan's territory bordering with Altai Republic where gathered on information about lawinforced troops of said Republic of Kazakhstan…» The Schischkin dutifully informed me about my punishment, read those according to my crimes articles of a Penal Code: «Part 3, art. 33, part 1, art. 30, part 3, art. 205; part 3, art. 33, part 3, art. 30, part 1, art. 208; part 3, art 33, art 222.»

In yellow light of Schischkin's office I signed a paper, stating that I was informed about all the charges brought against me by a Russian state. «Don't be nervous,» said Beliak. «Yes, don't be. Stay cool,» said Ivanov. But their faces said to me that they, my lawyers, are extremely worried. For four months I was accused only of buying arms and explosives. «I will come Monday,» said Beliak, «we will talk. You know, we have expected it, didn't we?» He hugged me. Ivanov hugged me. We expected it, but we hoped that they will not accuse me of terrorism.

On the way out I discovered that my vision suddenly greatly improved. Walking by corridor of Investigation building I saw all the cracks into linoleum old floor. I saw the dust of all shapes and even noticed little spider struggling to cross the corridor. I also scented stinking shoes of soldier walking behind me. These darks years of Eternity promised to me by Russian law made me see better? I developed abilities long forgotten by the man?

Prison building was smelling of sour-cabbage. It was a time of supper, so prison was smelling of a last meal of the day, of sour-cabbage. Although some lights were already out, I had an impression that prison is illuminated for me.

My cellmate Mishka was watching TV. «Why so late today?» he asked me. «Schischkin awarded me with a new accustion: of terrorism and creation of unlawful armed formation» said I.

«Shit,» said Mishka, «I thought you will be out soon. Seems that not so soon.»

For how soon I looked at Penal Code book. Penal Code book information was hopeless. Even though I was accused of preparation to actions of terrorism, article 205 alone promised me no less then 10 years. Articles 33 signified that I accused to be a ring-leader, so I will have a most cruel punishment. In all, I counted, if condemned, I will be sent into Eternity for 23 years and 7 months minimum.

I went to bed, according to prison's regulations exactly at 10 p.m. I covered my face with a towel. I fell asleep… I awakened maybe two or three hours later. Mishka just closed his novel and went to sleep. One light bulb was shining sinisterly in the middle of a ceiling. I felt unbearably dead.

I was lying on my back. Lightbulb was making buzzing noise like little mosquito, searching for humain body. Or maybe it was mosquito. Sour-cabbage smell was still present in my cell. I thought with a horror: In 23 years will I be alive? Probability was very small, as I am 58 years old. And those 23 years was neccessary to go through…

Listening to the regular snorting of Mishka I decided to stop my life. But how to stop it in high security of FSB, where even plastic bags are pierced by our guards? Suddenly I realized that I have on green and white strong plastic bag without holes in it. That bag was forgotten in cell number 24 by an informer, Aleksii, placed to frighten me in my first month at Lefortovo. Aleksii was transferred suddenly and have forgotten his bag. Now that bag was under my bed. I will put that bag on my head and will tie the bag around my neck. As American writer of polish origin, Koszinski died… But where I will get a string? I will made it from a prison towel… So, before going to bed I will place my plastic bag under my pillow. As well as a string, made of towel. Mishka will read, then he will go to sleep. Then I will put a sheet on my face. It will be no suspicion the guards, who overlook us from time to time into peep-hole. Although August have ended it was still some mosquitos in my cell. Then I will put a bag on my head and tightly tie a string around my neck. I will asphyxiate myself…

Somehow relaxed by the picture of my exodus from life I fell asleep. But I awakened in prison Hell. Mishka was lying on his side, his blanket felt on the floor, naked, only in his shorts. Mishka's legs and arms were weak and white as potatos sprouts in the dark basement. Mishka was undergoing investigation for more than three years. His limbs undergone atrophy. My limbs will be looking same in a few years… I should live that Hell of life. I visualized the picture of my exodus from life. I felt asleep.

That was unbearable night. I lost a hope for five or six times. Then I catched a hope again. I was seeing myself dead in the morning. How guards will discover my body, because Mishka will be sleeping as usually late… Then I thought that I am dead anyway, why bother to make myself more dead. Terrifying picture of 23 bottomless years of Eternity were rapidly replaced by terrifying picture of my body with a bag on my head. Probable that in my agony I will felt from a prison bed, to awaken Mishka? Then I thought about my party. And Russian people, what they will think of me, leaving life? Will they call me weakling?

Those two last arguments have awakened the shame and proud in me. I decided to live. I will be alive. I will make it all the way what my fate will oblige me to do. At 5:45 I sprung up. At 6 I was eating kasha. At 8:15 I was busy doing exercises in the tiny court-yard on the roof of Lefortovo prison.

That night from August 31 to September 1 was most horrible night in my life. No doubt about that. The night of a living dead. When in November Schischkin have added to my three accusation charges the fourth one, I was smiling.

#20(177), October 28 — November 13, 2003

I am stretching my hand to Mr.Khodorkovski for friendly shake

At 5 a.m. on October 25, at Novosibirskii airport, was arrested Michail Khodorkovski, Mr.Getty of Russia oil business, the richest of all Russian oligarchs. He was captured by FSB commandos, probably by the very same man who arrested me a few years ago. Probably by a brave lieutenant-colonel Michail Kuznetsov, because it was he who commanded a small army of FSB soldiers, consisting of contingents from Novosibirsk, from Altaiski Krai and from Altai Republic. The structure of FSB is such, that every region of Russian Federation has its own FSB Directorate, usually headed by a General-Major. Big operations are mounted by assembling forces of region's FSB, but a few outsiders, Muscovites, were sent to lead them.

So, at 5 a.m. Putin's boys have stormed Khodorkovski's airplane. Early in the morning. I wonder, why they so attached to that tradition of morning arrest? By an honest belief that in early morning a man is most vulnerable, sleepy, weak, he doesn't expect to be attacked?

As to me, I was expecting their attack constantly. Was Khodorkovski prepared to his arrest? That is a big doubt about his security men. Why did they so easily give up their master? What is the point to have a highly paid security group, if they are not intervening at all. when their Chief is arrested by the state? One million dollar question.

In any case Khodorkovski was arrested to show off operation of masked FSB soldiers. They, spoiled brats, never having rebuff, those people, save in Tchetchnia. It made them arrogant and reckless. One day next arrested oligarch or next revolutionary will resist arrest and we will see, how professional those masked soldiers are. I wonder personally how they will behave under the fire of heavy machine-gun. Say 27 millimeters, ha?

For more than two weeks now Mr.Khodorkovski is inmate of special prison inside prison with a practical name, «Matrosskaia Tishina,» which if translated from Russian into English means «The Sailor's Silence.» Such kind of title sounds like one that Japanese writer Mishima would invent. Inside of Sailor's Silence, young billionaire Khodorkovski is learning right now first lessons of a prisoner's life. Meanwhile, Russia and the Western World are busy with analysing what Khodorkovski's arrest is signifying. I will join them, because I have to admit that it is very significant arrest.

Putin, no doubts about it, has personally sanctioned arrest of Khodorkovski. He probably did it with some pleasure as ex-KGB officer. And with a personal pleasure coming from humiliation of the wealthiest man of Russia. No doubt also about «tchinovniks,» prosecutors from General Prosecutor's office: these types are enjoying fall of Khodorkovski with a class hate. Prosecutors in their blue uniforms, mighty as they are, are nevertheless wage-workers. To put in prison somebody as rich as Khodorkovski is for them an orgasmic delight! I observed my prosecutors during my trial. I saw Colonel Verbin's happy smile when he demanded for me 25 years term in prison, and «by way of partial addition,» another 14 years. He hoped to get that sentence from judge. President Putin's boys are also volunteers: for them to put away wealthiest man is also satisfaction of personal instincts.

But, all pleasures aside, by arresting Khodorkovski Putin has made a huge mistake, that will dramatically affect his personal life and fate. And also will affect his political present and future. This is Putin's biggest mistake since 1999. By arresting Khodorkovski, Putin has sent a definitive message to whole class of rich and wealthy, to whole class of businessmen. That message reads as such: «From now on no man of wealth, nobody possessing money and property, will be safe in Russia.» While persecutions of Mr.Berezovski and Gusinski have appeared to Russians as for particular causes (political intrigue and telemanagement hostile to Putin), arrest of Khodorkovski appeared as symbolical cause, of a man of wealth persecuted for his wealth. Khodorkovski's name was unfortunately at the top of the list for proscription.

In ancient Rome the Emperors, when they saw that the Treasury was empty, had a habit to make a list of wealthiest Roman citizens. Then the Emperor will accuse those moneybags of some imaginary or real crimes, and will kill or exile them. The wealth of exiled and killed patricians or senators will fill the Treasury of Emperor. This very simple and effective method of proscription now is adopted by President Putin's regime.

What Mr.Putin and his servants refuse to understand is following: from now on, counting from October 25, 2003, not one man in Russia with money or property will be friendly to Mr.Putin's regime. From now on wealthy and simply well-to-do citizens will run away from Russia, but some will organise plots, to conspire with a goal to oust President Putin from power. Starting from October 25, President Putin has an opposition: the wealthy class.

From 1999 he managed to make himself numerous enemies, step by step: liberals, democrats, political radicals of all kinds, human rights activists, but now, finally, by one single act of arresting Khodorkovski, he added to that opposition Russia's businessmen and proprietors. That was very reckless and frankly stupid arrest. The gravity of Mr.Putin's action is such that even immediate release of Khodorkovski from prison will not save the situation.

A great crack in regime's structure is evident. From now on the biggest part of Russian society groups and classes are in opposition to Putin's regime. It was unprofessional, idiotic decision, to arrest Khodorkovski. Even if he is guilty, for the sake of keeping business class on his side, Putin should not have done that.

Let us count who is on the side of Putin. Of course there is Federal Security Service, FSB for short. Of course also Ministry of Interior, headed by Mr.Grizlov. Of course, whole class of administrators, of «tchinovniks.» But that is very small part of society, to be exact one social class — that of administration, of state security service.

Also on the side of Putin is huge chunk of electorate, of Russian voters. But these, we know well, are passive group of citizens. All of more active groups in Russian society: liberals, democrats, radicals of both sides, new class of businessmen and proprietors; are opposing Putin. He will not survive for long.

After October 25 I look at future with a great hope. Frightened by Putin, wealthy class will be on lookout for new alliances with other active forces in society. I am absolutely sure that among others they will find us — National Bolshevik Party. Of course our social goals are different, but for the moment we can and we will work together. As a repressed political party we are aspiring to a society of political freedom, to a society where will be open competition of ideologies. Our path, in present Russian police state will be dangerous, long and difficult.

That is why I am stretching my hand to Mr.Khodorkovski for friendly shake.

#21(178), November 13–27, 2003

Dr.Limonov's dialogue with a voice about thanksgiving

A Voice: To whom you are grateful, Edward, to Jesus Christ?

— No, I am grateful not to the humain-like God, but to unnamed cosmic force, to the same force what have created the Universe and all those awful planets, made of iron rocks, all those macabre Saturns of the Universe. I am grateful to Unnamed force for pleasure to be. But I am angry with that same Unnamed cosmic force that I am not provided with understanding of my supra-humain goal, if such goal is existing. During last decade, I am often thinking about making planet Saturn my God. It is pretty awful looking planet with its famous ring around his waist. This terribly but also stylishly looking planet perfectly fits to be my God. As to the humainlike and humain centered Gods, I don't trust them precisely because they are humainlike. I cannot trust someone humainlike. Men are limited.

A Voice: So, you want to worship an iron rock in Cosmos, called Saturn?

— I also want to worship a humain semen, a sperm-bearing fluid, because it contains a miracle of reproduction. I want to worship both dimensions: Saturn and Sperm, Sperm and Saturn.

A Voice: What are you, Edward, grateful for?

— I said that I am grateful for the pleasure to be. For pleasure of life. For pleasure to love and for pleasure to fight. To love girls, their tender bodies, to enter them, to make love to them. I also grateful to Saturn for a pleasure to fight my wars. I have had a pleasure to fight my armed wars in 1990–1993, as well as my political wars after. If you want to know, I even grateful for my prison term.

A Voice: It sounds stupid to be grateful for a prison term, Edward.

— Not at all. My isolation from the world of ordinary citizens was also an isolation from the world of profanes. My prison days have had monastic taste. Extreme austerity of prison was for me a sort of religious asceticism. It was my purification after worldly life. In some perverted for profanes way I can say that I have enjoyed prison. I enjoyed rustic interior of Saratov's Central Prison. It looks like it was designed by Philip Stark. You know, iron beds, the iron clad toilets, the floor painted deadly green. In prison of Engels [town of 200,000 habitants on the Asian side of Volga] they had iron banks and iron long tables painted blue in prison cells, as well as a quadratic wash-basin made of bullet-proof metal, painted red. At first I was sure that creators of such furniture were influenced by Philip Stark's works. Then, I decided that Stark himself was influenced by Russian prisons design.

They have such a stylish long keys in Russian prisons. Even their keys are very stylish.

Then all those brave irrational Russian officers serving us prisoners. Each of them is a mystery in himself. Those nights, always illuminated by yellow lights! Those dreams about naked girls! Actually I have adored my prison days.

A Voice: Edward! You should hate those nasty people who puted you in prison, but instead you are adoring your prison days. You are a strange man, Edward. Isn't so?

— I hate men, who puted me into prison, as they have committed violence on my person, yes. But my prison life was extraordinarily mystical, ascetic, austere and because of that was exquisite.

A Voice: OK, let us to change a subject. What is your Thanksgiving Days? End of November, May, June? What do you celebrate?

— Every day. I am thanking Saturn and Sperm for the pleasure to be. Each day — Thanksgiving day. I am not tired to thank them. Glory, glory Alleluia! Every day I hold my saturnalias.

A Voice: Are you serious, Edward?

— Of course I am serious. What I am saying is that «bad,» «unhappy» events in our lifes are as necessary for some men as «happy» and «good.» The «bad» and «unhappy» events are more stimulating than happy ones. They are moving forces, they push us towards discoveries, towards victories. After hard deprivations of a winter 1620 to 1621 the harvest reaped by Plymouth Colony was good. Four big turkeys were served at Pelgrim's first thanksgiving feast. So I had: sufferings, deprivations first, then happiness of a spiritual feast.

A Voice: What about girls?

— Their special qualities are tenderness, sweetness. They are creatures opposite to Saturn's iron qualities. Their tits and round asses are pleasures for the Saturn warriors. Their holes are tender places for putting sperm. One should choose a young girls, not older then 20. After 20, girls are loosing their mystical, secret force.

#22(179), November 25 — December 4, 2003

Russian rip off: elections

Today is election day in Russia. Russia is my beloved country, where I was born sixty years ago in the city of Dzerzhinsk, named after Polish aristocrat, turned to be a chief of Revolutionary terror machine of AllRussian Extraordinary Comission. My destiny was always predicted on that terribly cold February Day to be born in the city of Dzerzhinsk, in another words I was damned somehow on my birthday, condemned to be tied up to the destiny of organization, founded by Mr.Dzerzhinski. So, I was duly detained by KGB officers in 1973 and consequently was forced to go abroad in 1974. I was arrested by FSB officers in 2001 and was placed in FSB prison «Lefortovo.» Then I spend two and a half years in various prisons of my country. Beloved country, of course. And my President in present time is a colonel of KGB. I want to say that he was a colonel of KGB and later he was a head of the same organisation that Dzerzhinski have founded. These are my thoughts in cold election Day in Moscow apartment. I am looking from my window.

I feel absolutely disgusted with all men who my dear Russian compatriots intended to elect in Parlament of my country. As I said, my president is KGB officer, but as it is not enough, my country's Minister of Interior Boris Grizlov is also a head of biggest political party — «United Russia.» I don't see a single honest man amongst huge crowd of candidates to the places of Deputies in State Duma. Except our candidates — Sergei Fomchenkov, Victor Alksnis and Vladislav Shurigin. And all that process called «election» is very well ogranized crime operation, intended to cheat my compatriots. Yes, it is vile Bizantine crime operation. No matter what will say one thousand of international observers. They are those observers, they are not Russians. I am Russian myself. I knew my dearest native manner of cheating, Russian Rip Off, I know well. Russian elections are fraud before they took place. They were fraud, they were act of wilful dishonesty to gain advantage many months ago. Because menu of elections carefully purged of all undesirable political parties and undesirable personalities. Undesirable for our President and his consorts. International observers should come to Russia many years ago and follow as that web, sinistre web of crime was woven.

Today is too late. Russian political liberty was kidnapped long time ago. Now all Russian political parties but mighty clans, cliques, gangs who are exploiting some parts of Russia and they don't want to lose it. We Russians are so much East Europeans that we are Asians. Good, old, violent Asians — that who we are. So our police force as anarshist and violent as no european anarshist could be. We are probably worst, our police force probably more violent than, say, some pakistani police force. Our prisons, and I know what I am saying, are as cruel and violent as Turkish prisons are not. So we corrupted european born election processors to the point of non-return, our elections are Olimpic games of fraud, rip off and cheating.

When I see Mister Grizlov, minister of Interior making electoral speeches I laugh violently. What the man is thinking of himself? Is he truly believing that everything all right with him, how it should be, that he is political leader? Jesus, I think those Russian men are uncomparable! Even Latin-American dictatorships of 50s and 60s never were such impudent creatures. Russian political class could be comparable to the worst inhabitants of African political scene.

Writing all that, I am from time to time checking the radio and television news: how it is with participation of election. I hope that my compatriots will boycott that action of organized crime. I hope they will abstain in masses. I wish that 75 percent of registered voters will abstain, protesting against insolent fraud. OK, 50 percent looks more real.

From 1998 Ministry of Justice of Russia is refusing to register National-Bolsheviks Party as «All Russian political party.» One can say: «Fuck them, those bureaucrats of ministry of Justice!» But their registration gives a right to participate in Elections. That is how they act — just refusing to register and Party can go to court, yes, but a court will confirm their position.

We went to court few times, but court also said «No.» All the time «no,» so they probably want us to get an arms in our hands. Russian men of State act as Russian bandits, they don't understand that political power should be shared.

So, I am listening to the radio and I am watching TV, expecting the low rate of participation. It is snowing outside and Putin's family according to radio «Echo of Moscow» have had a difficult last night. Their labrador she-dog gave a birth to six black puppies and two pale puppies. These six black puppies made me worry about future of Russian people and my own.

#23(180), December 11–25, 2003

Colonel's times

My personal worst moment of the year 2003 was late afternoon January 31st. At Saratov's Districts Court, public prosecutor Colonel Verbin demanded for me quarter of century of imprisonment. Ten years of imprisonment for allegedly planning terrorist attacks on territory of Kazakhstan, 4 years for preparation to organize outlawed armed formations, 8 years for a purchase of Kalashnikovs and 3 years for a call to overthrow the Government of Russian Federation. Exactly 25 years demanded Verbin, that tall and skinny as a match colonel, wearing blue uniform of Prosecutor.

But «by the way of partial reduction» merciful and compassionate Russian Justice, personified by colonel, demanded for me «only» 14 years of imprisonment in the camp of «severe regime.» It was worstiest day of 2003. But going to court on February 4, just a few days later, early in the morning I saw on television face of my wife, Natasha. Television said that my wife have died as a saint during her sleep at night from 2 to 3rd February. Then, until the day of April 15, I have lived under the heavy burden of 14 years. On April 15 I was miraculously sentenced to 4 years. I know, I wrote about that, but anyway, it was my worst season of life.

The worst day of 2003 for Mother Russia was December 7th, the Election Day. Putin's people have finished their last touch of subjugation of Russian parliament. For now Russia has parliament what will work staying on its knees.

Amongst numerous worst days of 2003 I can place also the day when Colonel Putin announced that he is going to run for a next term of presidency. During his first term from 2000 until 2003 about sixty (60!) National-Bolsheviks were imprisoned or still are in prisons. As we have reason to believe that second term of colonel will be not different from first term, so we are preparing to live through hard times. Colonel's times.

Bad boys are ruling my country. So bad, that they are not needed anybody to help them. They don't want people from outside to join them. They just want to be bad themselves and to stay in power as long as they can. Forever. They are the worst kind of bad boys, because they believe that they are good boys. These colonels don't understand that they are violent, unlawful, repressive, unjust. So everyday in 2003 for Russians is a bad day. Even my best day of 2003, June 30, when I was liberated on parole, from the camp near city of Engels, was in some way also bad day. Because I walked out of camp, but not to freedom. I walked into country with biggest police force in whole world, to the country where everybody is controlled. From behind the bars I walked straight under police boot.

I should stop that. Marc Ames will have a hard times as editor, if I will continue. For the sake of reason I will stop, although my emotions calling me to continue. I will stop.

The day of Khodorkovsky's arrest was also very bad day, as on that very day Russian population have received proof that our present Government will persecute anybody, even that very same social class whose interests the Government claims to defend. Our Government proved that he is a senseless, mindless beast. That it bites because its nature demands to bite. Anybody, and why not its own kind. But if that Government is eating its own kind, what should expect from that Government WE, who are not of its kind?

No, I am not exaggerating. No, I am not a pessimist. No, that is not an influence of Russian sleazy winter, not an influence of Muscovite gray, filthy weather. Now, when Communist Party of Russian Federation saying that the results of elections are falsified, that «Yabloko» and «Union of Rightist Forces» have actually overlapped the five percent barrier, I believe the Communist Party. I don't believe an outraged Veshnyakov, maniacal servant of Putin's regime. I also believe Berezovski, when he claims that FSB have executed explosions of Russian buildings in Russian cities. Because I saw with which degree of easiness that Government have decided to «liberate» Nord-Ost hostages with a help of unknown gaz. 139 hostages were liberated from life. No Government minister wrote a letter of resignation. They are supermen of cruelty. No one said: We are guilty. No one was sentenced, no one accused. It is monstrous Government. The worst is that they don't understand that.

I believe that Russia will have beautiful sunshine future. I believe that one day Russian Government will be merciful and compassionate. It will look at its own citizens not as enemies but like employee at his employers. With respect and with care. I believe that one day our President will be at least, aggressive, yes, let him be, but he will be aggressive towards other nations! As American President at least who is a beast, yes, but towards Afghanies, Irakiens, towards anybody, but Americans. When one day Russia will arrive at such a level of civilization, and will cease to torture and kill and rub out its own citizens, I will be a happiest men. And all the days of Future years will be best Days.

I have had a dream recently that one day somebody, called President of Russian Federation, will invite me to Kremlin not to be arrested there, but to give me a «propiska.» President will meet me near Tsar-cannon (tsar-pushka) — he will smile, and he will say to me: «Dear Eduord Veniaminovich, Russian Government decided that you are deserving to have Moscow's 'propiska.' You never had one, but we are giving you now. I also want to apologize that my predecessor colonel Putin have keeped you in Prison.»

And he will give me a fresh, brand new passport with a stamp of «propiska» in it. Then he will shake my hand. And he will add: Thank you, Edward Veniaminovich for efforts to planning attacks on Kazakhstan, in order to unite Russian populated territories with Russia. You didn't succeed in it, but allegedly you tried, at least. Thank you, you are real patriot of your country.»

But when I awaked, I realize that I have no «propiska» and for six months now I am waiting for a Russian passport. And it was no Kremlin, no tsar-pushka, no smiling President. I love you, my Russia!

#24(181), December 25, 2003 — 20 January 2004

At war with empire

I thought about some nice, lyrical subject for that my column at «eXile», but then Mark Ames asked me to write about last adventures of my gorgeous party because first thing what Mark heard on the news coming from US to Russia, were the news about militia platoons, storming general headquarters of NBP. So, I will report on some events, the only principal ones.

National Bolsheviks strike Empire

On August 28, Veshniakov the head of Central Electoral Committee, the man of State was hit by a jet of mayonnaise. Two members of NBP were detained.

December 3, 2003. 14 members of National Bolsheviks Party have seized roof of Ministry of Justice. In the same time abouit 100 Party activists staged a meeting near the entrance to Ministry. Some activists on the roof have handcuffed themselves to the roof's fence. They have posters. «Liberty or Death!» and «We will teach you to love the Constitution!» 18 activists were detained. They stated that their goal was to express Party protest against refusal of Ministry to register NBP as All-Russian Political Party. Because that refusal is actual denial to NBP of the right to participate in coming elections.

December 7. A poet and member of NBP, Natalia Tchernova attacked with eggs His Highness Prime Minister Kasyanov. Minister has received egg in his ear. Poet Tchernova was transferred to Prison No.6 for women. Russian state is very angry.

Empire strikes back

December 11. Head of militsiya, special militsiya forces and about 50 FSB officers erupted in to office of NBP at 2nd Frunzenskaia, 7. I was there at the moment. About 30 of Party activists were detained, then released. FSB officers have tried to recruit some of our activists. Colonel Frolov of FSB demanded to see a contract between landlord, «Moscom Imuschestvo,» and us. When Colonel read a statement of Arbitration Court he felt exhaustion.

He said: «I would be better to be in trenches.» Because he figured out that we have time to appeal at least until January 20.

December 15. Alexander Averin, press-secretary of NBP was summoned to an Army draft commission, despite the fact that he is a student of pregraduate year. In a few hours Averin has discovered that he is a draftee and will be sent to Army barracks today. In protest Averin has cut his veins. Scared doctors sent him home.

December 15. Group of National Bolsheviks have handcuffed themselves to a building of Department of Justice at Nijnii Novgorod.

Deember 16. In the entrance of building where he lives in in Nijni Novgorod, Dmitri Elkin, Secretary of Party Regional Organization, was beaten up by two masked men.

December 17. Moscow Party activist Mikhail Sokov disappeared while working on Party newspaper, «Limonka.» Later his corpse was found in a Moscow morgue. His body had traces of savage beating, but there was no police investigation of his death.

NBP's second offensive

December 24, Moscow. At IV Congress of «United Russia,» members of NBP attacked with eggs the leader of «United Russia» [and Minister of Interior — ed.] Boris Gryzlov. Three NBP members were detained. Next day they were sentenced to 15 days of imprisonment each.

December 26. Central Committee of NBP announced boycott of Presidential elections of March 14, 2004.

Then it was New Year's Celebration afterwards. The war between Empire and NBP started again with new force.

January 5, 2004. At Zuzin's court in Moscow trial has started against our newspaper «General Line» [this is how «Limonka» was renamed after it was closed by court decision in September 2002 — ed.] «General Line» is accused of being «an extremist publication.»

January 6. Tula's National Bolsheviks have seized roof of Department of Justice in Tula Region.

Empire strikes again

January 13. In late evening, FSB officers arriving in two cars have kidnapped Dmitri Bakhur, member of NBP Committee. We have two witnesses of kidnapping. Bakhur was driven out of Moscow and savagely beaten up. At one point he was even beaten with fire extinguisher. For the moment, Bakhur is in 1st City Hospital of Moscow.

January 14. On the street in Nijni Novgorod, Dmitri Elkin, a member of NBP Central Committee, was stopped for search. In one of his pockets was «found» a sachet with the drug «Ecstasy.» Needless to say, Elkin has never tried drugs. On the contrary, he is religious zealot, Russian Orthodox.

January 17. Moscow Special Police platoons in two buses, plus five police cars, have surrounded office of «General Line» and headquarters of NBP. Militsiya men prepared to storm us, while National-Bolsheviks were barricading themselves inside. Meanwhile Russian and European journalists arrived on field of battle. So Militsiya was forced to stop preparations for storming our home. So Militsiya invented for journalists different justifications of their military action, one sillier than the next. Among them: 1) Militsiya came in force throughout Moscow to provide security during football games. 2) They had information that NBP was preparing some «action.» [What action they didn't know — ed.] 3) Militsiya was expecting a court decision evicting us so they were there to maintain order.

Activists of NBP said that they will defend Party Headquarters at any price. They said they are ready to cut their veins or burn themselves as Buddhist monks.

Night of 17th–18th January passed in expectation of police assault, although buses had left. But at 9 a.m. on January 18 buses came back, full of Special Police Troops.

I feel like a «Black Panther» leader.

Hope I will be luckier than Huey P.Newton.

#1(182), January 22 — February 5, 2004

Protest of russian people against its old medieval state

I acknowledge myself as a man of 61 years, preparing to publish in March my 37th book. I also acknowledge myself as a man, living with 21 years old girl, possessing a white bull terrier, white rat and a hamster. I also acknowledge myself as a leader of National-Bolsheviks Party, which I have founded ten years ago. And that is exactly in that last capacity as a political leader that I am hated by authority of my beloved country of Russia. As it is not enough I became few months ago the Chairman of movement «Russia without Putin.»

Every day, or almost every day my assistant Michael brings me reports of electronical medias as well as press-clips about deeds of National-Bolsheviks Party. Headlines say for example on March 12: «newsru.com, «Natsbols have seized a Putin's headquarters at Saint Petersburg and have handcuffed themselves to Latvian embassy in Moscow.» News of party activities are coming from numerous provincial cities: in Irkutsk, Putin's reception office was attacked. In Chelyabinsk meeting NBP in alliance with communists under the slogan «Russia Without Putin» have taken place. In Barnaul, meeting NBP, but before unknown persons have painted in black the FSB building. Orsk, Novosibirsk, Rostov-sur-Don, Ryazan, Kaluga, Nizhni Novgorod, Krasnoyarsk, Magnitogorsk, Kharkov, Kishenev — those cities where National-Bolsheviks have staged some actions in the beginning of March.

What I feel about it? I feel great. Because that movement what I have started about ten years ago with a few friends have trespassed all borders, it is now a young people's movement. My personal destiny could be whatever destiny, but I gave an ideology of protest for actual generation of Russian youth, and I hope for a next few generations. When in prison I wrote a book, what I always wanted to write: «The Other Russia.» It is sold out. «The Other Russia» is a howl for creation of a new nation, a new state, of a free country.

Russian special services are listening to my telephones, they have some listening devices in my apartment. As they did it in year 2000 [34 audio cassettes were presented by FSB at my trial in Saratov]. They listen to my whispers to my girl. They listen to the barkings of our dog [he's very serious, his barkings are few during the day]. They want badly to isolate me. On March 2, Minister of the Interior Affairs of Russia Rashid Nurgaliev said [when on oin conference of Ministry of Internal Affairs and FSB] that «Russia today is menaced not by the teenagers usual criminality, but by the extremists movements among youths.» Nurgaliev also said that «in the first place we should neutralize the leaders of these groups.»

So they do. When I arrived on February 24, about midnight time at Saint Petersburg by train, FSB men been writing for me at train station. They come to meet me on platform, to the entrance form my compartment. Then, when on February 29 I was back to Moscow seven plainclothes men have met me at entrance of my compartment. To easy their own task they asked everybody in compartment to present their passports. I have presented. They just control movements.

By coincidence just next day after the high and honorable conference of militia and FSB generals took place, group of National-Bolsheviks have staged an action…about 30 of them have attacked and «seized» an office of Party «Edinaya Rossiya» on Pereyaslavski pereulok. Part of participants have penetrated third floor of building, have opened the windows, have handcuffed themselves to pipes of heating, the others have staged a meeting downstairs. More than 49 news agencies have reported about event.

The generals were very angry. On March 5, about 60 men, armed and equipped and well fed, have arrived at 10:15 in the morning to the bunker of National-Bolsheviks Party at Frunzenskaya 7. Forces of special use of Ministry of Interior have stormed in our premises just behind of «court's executor» (sudebni isponitel). That was 17 National-Bolsheviks in bunker. They haven't resisted because on February 5, Moscow's Arbitration Court have made decision to evict us from our premises. But despite of absence of resistance Special Forces (each soldier for about two meters tall) have putted everybody on the floor. Seven of our comrades were beaten up. Then, all of them were transferred to a malice station of Khamovniki, where they were interrogated by the malice and FSB men. Among the FSB men two were familiar to National-Bolsheviks, Colonel «Frolov» — a false name, as we found out, and small Chechen-looking man, both have participated in kidnapping and beating up Dmitri Bakhur — one of our activists in January.

FSB and militia-men were interested above all: will NBP stage some actions on Election Day, on March 14? And if so, where will take place those actions. They haven't received an answer. After evacuation of National-Bolsheviks the door of our beloved old historical place, of «bunker» was welded shut. By malice brought professional welder. Old man.

That is like a first volume of History of National-Bolsheviks Party have been welded with that door of bunker. But we are not sad about it. Bunker-1 have died, long live Bunker-2, which door will open the second volume of History of National-Bolsheviks Party, history of protest of Russian people against its old medieval state. Against absolutist government, against president who wants to keep Russia as his personal possession. No way, Mister President!

So, man of 61, I have prepared for publication my book called «From Prison to Prison» [Po Turmam] which I wrote last year, when jailed in Saratov's Central Prison, Korpus 3. That is the book about tragical people of Saratov's prison, about Russians. I am not important in this coming book, I am only a man wearing «Pugatchev's sheepskin coat,» muzhik with a gray beard. Muzhik who can tell about them. About tragical Russian muzhiks.

#5(186), March 18 — April 1, 2004

It's a great time of struggle

Last week, National Bolshevik leader and eXile hero Edward Limonov sat down with eXile editors Mark Ames, John Dolan and Jake Rudnitsky to discuss politics and literature. What follows is the first part of the roundtable, in which we cover Russian and world politics at the turn of the century. Next issue we will print our discussion about Limonov's own books, the practical side of writing, and his views on what makes for quality literature.

— Ok. I think our readers and we are interested in a lot of things. A lot of fans who find you fascinating and…

— Obnoxious.

— No I think you're a hero for a lot of our readers and obviously us as well. So we have a lot of questions that are both theoretical and about what lessons we can take from you, as well as general critical questions about your writing…

— I'm embarrassed.

— If we can make you embarrassed we've already succeeded. So why don't we just start with the questions. We wrote down a whole bunch of them and will start rattling them off. If you were al Qaida what would you do next?

— Al Qaida? I think bin Laden is an invention. I think he died five or six years ago but is an American invention. [laughs] In my opinion he is very useful guy. No, seriously, I refuse to endanger myself.

— What's your favorite revolutionary movement today?

— You see they're all not universal. They pursue their own goals and sometimes they are very similar. I respect them; I guess the nations have a right as long as they can have their own life, their own religion, whatever as always. And there it's already a new age that has made forbidden some of the states, like the Iraqian state. I not an admirer of the Iraqian state but I guess it was very traditional and very Asian kind of a state. Nothing horrible for some people. And the Russian state existence seems also strange cruel and unadmissible for the US statutes. I think that all of the kinds of the state and nation — the reality — are permissible. I think we shouldn't make a universal. It was probably thinked by God or whoever created us to have such rich difference. And now the general the planet suffers from imposed universality of civilization.

— Another question we had was: do you feel sad about the way the 20th century ended?

— No.I feel absolutely… I guess my way of thinking is not emotional; it's like there are a lot of conflicts around and life is a conflict. And starting from that point of view we live in also a great time. It's a great time of struggle and something new will be born from all that repression from all that confrontation. I think that in a way the world was more stable from the 50s up to the end of the 20th century but it was more boring. For example, for me the great time was the 90s with all those local wars and it was very interesting to be, interesting to act. I hope it going to be this way — the way of the 90s — in the future.

— So you see the Anglo-American universal values losing out? You don't see them stomping…

— It's impossible. I never was a pessimist about that. I don't believe it will be enforced. And I see nothing terrible in that struggle even if it will be a bloody one. I think that Muslim civilization is very strong. Whatever they stay it's not technically, morally it's very strong. It's going to resist. And others, probably smaller, but anyways brave civilizations are also exist. For example China — a billion four hundred millions of population. So I look at it with pleasure every single time.

— So what happens when they overlap, like the Russian population in Chechnya?

— It means Russians already lost Chechnya. In my opinion Russia should give up the Chechen territory and instead to take Abkhazia or Adzharia who wants to be Russia not Georgia because it was never really part of Georgia. It was united artificially under the Soviet powers. Why to take Chechnya when they are unfriendly; it is absolutely difficult to manage Chechens. And instead we can take Abkhazia which is great land, really warm and a lot of coast line. And Adzharia is even better. It's subtropical. It is the only place where bananas grow in the Soviet Union. The most attractive is that the people are friendly to us. They want us to be there. And Abkhazia is asking us from 92.

— Why haven't they taken it?

— Because their own understanding of the world. Russian government — today represented by Putin — has some kind of probably verbal agreement between the West and Russia to not touch the division of 91 when the Soviet republics separated from Russia. I guess it is this probably. Like a Yalta agreement. And Russians are not as, the government is not really strong enough, not really… No one is thinking in this government. They are all created by the very simplistic historical view under communist state. They still believe in it, in goodness of West. Or at least they believe the West is better than Russia. This is a point of view created in the 60s, 70s and it is so strong that it dissolved in Russian society. Very prevailing point of view.

— What do you think about that?

— I think it's bullshit. Everybody is, you know, it's a lot of goals what are pursued by the different states, nations. It's almost chaotical. Chaos.

— But also talk about Abkhazia it might set a bad president. The real fear for Russia is of China wanting to take Siberia. If Russia says these artificial borders don't make sense…

— It doesn't work this way in my opinion. Especially with China, but with any other state. You take the other territory if you have the guts to take it and to keep it. Every state before to overtake something, they are calculating: will they keep it. What will the world do if they take it. If Russia will take Abkhazia or Adzharia or South Ossetia or even Trans-Dneister separated from Russian territory (but the Kalinigradskaya oblast is also separated), if Russia will take those lands, West will not move a finger absolutely. Whereas if Russia will try to Baltic States, there will be a problem, I'm sure. But if Adzharia or Abkhazia, nobody will — there probably will have a protests or something but it will be no big deal.

— But if China tried to take Siberia it will be a nuclear war…

— China would not do such stupidity in this stage of world history. If they bright, and I believe the Chinese are bright, they will just wait until the economical ties between the Russian, say Mother Russia (it means European Russia) and Russian Far East will loosen and first overtake it economically. They are for the moment already partly overtaken by China and Japan and it's just such a huge territory to keep it. And I don't think China will ever try to fight to overtake by military means those territories. They will probably wait if it's possible to take first economically then politically to put forth something different because they will probably help the territories to break their ties with Russia. It's already start: if you go to Krasnoyarsk if you buy a car it's a Japanese car, if you buy electronical goods, if you buy this or that… everything comes from Japan or China.

— What do you think is a bigger threat is it outside or inside?

— Its own government. For the moment, its own government. It's here — what did Putin as totally unexperienced leader he let the United States to have bases in Russian Asia in Central Asia. It's a big strategical… even crime I would say, because he was emotionally moved. Everyone could see it. I don't see any other reason for that stupid action. That criminal action, criminal towards Russia, that will have consequences for many… for centuries. The bases, I know well what is the situation there. Just recently I spoke with some officer from Tajikistan and he said Russians were already in a shy stupid position out there. The numbers of those frontier guards forces were reduced extremely for now and they already force Russian forces out there — the 201st division is reduced also its numbers. And the Russians have the only kind of a landing strip and now they're making them pay for the right to fly and they're paying for the take off and the landing and to keep the planes on the ground. It is extreme humiliation and what people say is that Rakhmanov received a lot of American money and it's known to everybody that he is took action to eliminate Russians from Tajikistan and it will be done sooner or later. It's extreme stupidity. That's why I said our government is… it's probably after the time that Gorbachev gave up the rule then Yeltsin destroyed the Soviet Union and then third big strategical catastrophe that was done. He was giving the Russian Central Asia to the United States to its strategical interests.

— What's your opinion — not good or bad — of the American empire? You were in prison for 9/11, but how do you judge it? Is it powerful, out of control, vulnerable?

— I think it's close to the realization of that dream of the world — how you call it — dominance, the world domination. But it will never reach it because it is impossible. The only nation that can colonize the world is the Chinese probably, just by their numbers. But you will saw that the US reached the most — it's no exaggeration — that world domination was farther reached than anyone. For example Napoleon or Hitler. From the point of view of historian one can even admire them. Because that is the deeds and we all judge by deeds and we should admire them such a state.

— Do you admire them?

— I'm partly see myself as historian. I would not say that anywhere; I'm saying that in the context and you understand what I mean. Certainly as I don't belong to that power and, in time, potentially on the other side of the war that's taking place. So I know that it's vain, they will never realize it; you see what happened to Napoleon or Hitler. Without that moral judgment I will just say that Hitler was reckless. He fired against everybody. And this is always it always brings you to kaput. Sooner or later they are going to be kaput because it is impossible to fight on so many fronts. Whatever resources the United States has it is not absolutely enough for to conquer the world. Even to control it in a modern way. Not to control all the territory by its own military but even like US controlling the world.

— I think there are two ways you can have power: one is money and the other is birthrate. So what do you think of the Russian birth rate?

— It's absolutely impossible. The Russian birthrate is… our nation is loosing 800,000 every year.

— Can that change?

— Russia is in need of a creation of some sort of a new nation. It's not such a futurist idea because it's always having some sort of migrations and some sort of changing of the blood. We have a lot of defective people. All the regions are completely devastated by alcohol, by anemia of the blood. I think its only strong can say we are have such and such problems. And as a strong I see we have those problems. But I don't see why they are tragical. If we organize our nation on some different basis, we'll create new one. Especially we have the possibility. We have a lot of the Asian blood and we have more than 20 million Muslims and they have a big birth rate and say, if you judge Russian civilization, first of all it is a language of course, and that is the history, and then is the culture. I'm not sure the culture is really that's so important. [laughs] No it is a tradition, some kind of literary traditions. I think we can without fear create a new nation and take best from every side.

— The nation you're describing is almost like an American nation. It's not so much an ethnic group or genetic…

— Yeah, sure. But it always was. I never thought Russians like a stable… it's not Eskimos. We're always been people with many, many bloods. Not one, not two, but probably tens or hundreds. And it always worked. Even in the Soviet times really great exchange of the bloods. I say blood because it's easy.

— So what matters more is having an ideal that motivates the people rather than genetics?

— We really have those problems, probably nobody has those problems except Russia. It's not, I don't want to analyze why… when you see our peasants who have the strength to work the field but haven't the strength to harvest! I saw that — the field of maize. It looks terrible under the snow. And you understand what does it mean. It's very dramatic.

— We're obviously American; our newspaper is a dissident American paper. Your politics and are politics are somewhat similar to ours — it's a mixture of left and right radical politics and patriotism. We have practical questions: you've spent time in America and know the people — how would you go from emotionally being a radical or dissident to actually putting together an ideology and a party? What practical advice do you have?

— I think it's difficult; I only know just that this paper eXile couldn't be published in the United States. I don't think it's possible. Or maybe it's possible you're going to be absolutely unnoticed. It's my opinion. The US has a very great experience in putting down every possible political movement what is not the State or inspired by the State. Even when I live there in the end of the 70s in New York, I saw that the experience of the leftist parties and they were all infiltrated by the FBI agents to the point what is dream by the FSB. So they're really, really effective. The State is effective in putting down every effort, or at least keeping them under control. It is possible to create these parties but then you will have problems to make it a national party. Then… I believe they can go as far as to kill. I got a point really interesting here. I don't think the Black Panthers were a really bright party they have a lot of flaws but they're actually very effective.

— You've lived all over — the Soviet Union, Yeltsin's Russia, Putin's Russia, the US. Where is the toughest regime to operate as a radical?

— I lived in a different time. I lived in the United States in the 70s. Now it is 20 years later, a quarter century after. The Russian regime go from, more and more aggressive. The beginning of 90s it was a politically free, say 91, 92. But say the private life was much more free in the United States in the 70s then in the Soviet Union or even now in Russia. So it is very… uncomparable but I see the tendency which is mutual for different countries for the United States and Russia to go to the some even big hysteria about all possible kinds of dissidents. Now they call them terrorists immediately. They're not dissidents. Now they are creating a system, denouncing us as enemies every possible kind of dissident. In a way it is kind of good because hysteria makes them unbelievable and… it just discredits the existing regimes, Russian and American.

— They get stupider as they get more powerful. It's amazing they've become when they've had everything. It seems Putin is going that way, too. You turn on television and I imagine it's the same as it was in the Soviet days: it's only Putin. It's hard to watch it and it seems less effective than if they were more subtle.

— Unfortunately they don't have the models, Russian models, for coping. They have the, latest is the Russian Tsars. Putin looks very much like a Russian Tsar. He's ignorant and haughty, arrogant. It's terrible arrogance towards the people whatever men, women are going through. It's absolutely in the Russian tradition. Absolutely the tradition of the Tsar because they politically refused the heritage of communism. So they adapted pose of the Russian monarch. And it is very, very stupid of course because it is a different country. It's an artificial situation, I guess.

Jake Rudnitsky, John Dolan, Edward Limonov, Mark Ames

Left to right: Jake Rudnitsky, John Dolan, Edward Limonov, Mark Ames

#6(187), April 1–14, 2004

Writing and Prison

part two of the eXile interview with Eduard Limonov

— To me, His Butler's Story is one of your best books. One of the reasons I was shocked when I first read it was that somehow you managed to describe what Jenny, an ordinary American of the time, was like. I read that and looked around at the rest of American literature and nobody repeated it. I always wondered what made it so hard to Americans to describe carefully what was happening. You needed to go to a Russian…

Probably really because I was new and fresh from the other world. What I saw was probably banality for the Americans. And I came from a completely different social situation. And I had some kind of a good eye…

— When you came for the first time, what did you get from Americans, what influences?

— I had very different influences. For example from my boss and from his employees and friends I learned a lot practical. Even from now I have that from Karla for appointments. She taught me a lot of things like how to organize myself. Not like she was sitting with me and saying write down this, but we worked every day and so she said me and eventually I found myself living in France I found myself using this business discipline.

That is undeniable, absolutely. Then it was ordinary places like Jenny — her real name is Julie Carpenter — her father was an FBI agent and she and her friends especially her brother…

— You mean the guy who was a stoner?

— Yeah, they see I'm reading something boring on in kitchen and he says you should not read this bullshit and gives me High Times magazine. Not only that but also the books. For example that was Julie who recommended to me to read Bukowski. And other things…the Beatniks I guess. Then the books of B. Traven. He's the best to write about the sailors, really macabre things.

— What American literature did you know before you went to America and how did your view of American literature change?

— Very little — I knew what was translated, Socialist stuff, Theodore Dreiser. Hemingway was read by children. But later I read Hemingway and a lot of other writers in English and they are really something. I liked the style. Later I read many things. A couple of years after arrival, it took me some time to learn the language, its rhythm. But about influences, basically good writers. My young friends have been very helpful to introduce me to punk.

— We wanted to ask you about punk…

— Yeah, because it started in '75 and I lived in New York at this time and I immediately knew that something happens on the Lower East Side. And I been on the Lower East Side before because a lot of Polish, Ukrainians, Russians immigrants lived there. Russian Jewish stores and all that. Some friends of mine lived in St. Marks Place. I went to all the concerts in CBGB. All the American lower east side punk.

— Richard Hell and the Voidoids…

— Yeah, Richard Hell!

— Is punk part of the National Bolshevik iconography?

— It's probably not a coincidence that when we thought about the creation of the party, one of us, my young friend Taras, he found Yegor Letov, the Russian idol. He spoke about my books in some lyrics. He said we should contact him as a great influence on Russian youngsters. And so we did, we contacted him and because of that many first National Bolsheviks came from that, Russian punks. Even now a lot are coming…

— I've got a naive fan question… Did Jenny (or Julie) read His Butler's Story? Or Peter Sprague [Limonov's billionaire employed, portrayed in HBS]?

— Yeah, Julie read it, I guess so.

— Did they respond to it?

— No, I just know the connection. I know some part of my friends' biography for example. My boss he told this…

— I always wondered what happens when they read it…

— Like Elena [Limonov's ex-girlfriend, portrayed in It's Me, Eddie]..

— Yeah they read about it. When in '93 I received a phone call from Kostya Bondarenko, that's the guy in Podrostok Savyenko [Memoirs of a Russian Punk]. He was sentenced to 12 years in prison for various things. But, unfortunately the next day we got thrown out of that rented premises. He didn't have my other phone. He called me and I was busy with some people and I said call me later. That's how it happened. But many of them, most of them died. Now it's a movie…

— Podrostok Savyenko is a movie?

— Yeah, the movie will come out by the same guy who made Brigada. It's called Russkoye — he took the name of my book of poetry. It will be out in theaters in autumn. Now they will be showing it in some festivals. I don't know what it will be. I sold them the rights when I was in prison and it helped get us out of prison.

— One technical question: Podrostok Savyenko and Molodoi Niigodai [The Young Scoundrel] you wrote in third person, and Eto ya Edichka [It's Me, Eddie] and Istoria ego Usulga [His Bulter's Story] in third. Why did you choose one over the other?

— Maybe for make a difference in Eto ya… Because those books were supplied by remarks and some places…

— Especially in Molodoi Niigodai there's a lot of distance from your characters — you call him by whatever job he has at the moment. He's the bookseller or the aspiring writer. Like each one is a separate character…Was it more difficult to write it that way?

— It was very intentional. I was in France and I wanted to be a professional writer and I said to myself never again will I touch an ordinary job. I wanted to be only a writer. I will absolutely lead a disciplined life and write one book a year. Sometimes I'd write two books a year. That's why I published 17 books in France. So I wanted to write and explore some… as I always hated to invent people. I wanted, I found it artificial.

— You don't like what's called fiction?

— No.I hate it. I find it inadmissible.

— From a writer's point of view, or from a reader's?

— From a reader's and a writer's.

— What about Dead Souls, for example?

— You wouldn't read Dead Souls for the pleasure. [laughs] I like Gogol like Lovecraft.

— You know Houellebecq has written a book about Lovecraft? You've written a lot in prison. I'm reading V Plenu u Mertvetsev [Captive of the Dead, an account of Limonov's life in prison]. How did your experience compare to Dostoevsky's?

— I wrote also a book called Po Tyurmom [From Prison to Prison]. It will be available in probably a week or two. The book Po Tyurmom is really about the characters, about the people that I met. They are non-fictional characters, everybody uses their own name, their own face. It is a book about prison. But what I wrote about in V Plenu…, that was a different kind of prison, a very lonely kind of prison.

— Only one cell mate…

— There isn't other prison population with you and it focuses on my own reaction to prison. But here I manage to cheat the prison authorities. It was not forbidden to write but to take out what you wrote. What I did actually, it was probably not bad as Lefortovo administration. And now they have to take everything first because the lawyer of Khrodokovsky or the lawyer of Platon Lebedev. Just yesterday I read that they search every lawyer now. Because if they didn't they would be very unhappy about what happened. I'm proud of what I did [laughs] because I managed to smuggle out one and a half thousand pages.

— Did most of the prisoners have politics?

— No, I guess it's on the contrary. Most of them don't think politically. They probably participate in politics even without their will, because their position in society is, anyway, is opposition. Even if they probably don't understand their role in society, each of them I saw like a small revolutionary because they are really break, everyone of them break some rule of society. My view of prison is really different than common view by a Russian writer.

— Is that informed by your treatment when you were in prison?

— No, I know that because I present my manuscript of this very book Po Tyurmom to a different publisher because most of them said that is contrary to the Russian tradition because I am associating myself with the criminals. They say, look, Solzhenitsyn was against the prison world. He hated the common criminals. And on the contrary I felt like I am one of them. We all suffered and we all have the burden of punishment. And some of them are really great figures. I in a certain sense admired their being convicted to the life in prison. I saw about 30 of them for a year in Saratov prison. More than thirty, actually for capital punishment.

— What do you need to do to get capital punishment?

— Oh, you know, for example that band, city of Angorsk from Saratov region, they judged same time as me and they are responsible for the five killings, five dead. And some other people, six dead. Those are bandits, really. But they never touch the common people. They say we kill each other, what's wrong with that? Why we deserve… But many of them are describing how they behave themselves before the sentence, after the sentence when it's already different. This time you are already past the waiting for the ceremony in the prison to send the people to the court. They sending from the floors downstairs and in that moment for about two hours you have the possibility to talk to stay together. You are separated by five or six places but anyway there are always about twenty people.

— Maybe it's easier for you because in Podrostok Savyenko you describe about growing up in a place where criminals were admired. And I was wondering is that unusual for you — how you decide in Podrostok Savenko you're not going to be the good boy anymore — or do you think Solzhenitsyn knew that culture and tried to forget it?

— I don't know about Solzhenitsyn, but I felt solidarity with them. As I said we've been suffering together. What can be more serious than life in prison? It's like you are already dead. And I felt the same because until the day of sentencing I expected to have the big huge sentence, convicted by four articles of the code. And after twenty five years, twenty years — that's kind of a dark hole. After that and you are dead, really dead. So you are living that life with them. And so I thought absolutely like a brother to those people and they felt the same. I don't say anything bad about those people. In a way they are brave because in a way they could be much, much terribly worse. But they are much more human than the people who kept us inside, then the convoy as they call them, the militsia men who are always stupid, loud, aggressive, swearing constantly. They are degenerates, the prisoners in comparison to them were very delicate. They never say something to irritate you. It's accepted the confrontation in some places but it's very rare actually, because they all in the bad situation and they don't want to be… if they respect you at least. It probably could be different, but I don't know. I never had… So actually it was natural for me. Maybe I also judge them from the highest point of view, from one step from eternity… if you imagine yourself to be sentenced to fifteen years, you are living in this world, and not in the world of fears. The criminals they committed their crimes sometimes in a few minutes. Or maybe they prepared in committing it for one month. Then they are people like others. On the contrary the law and the people inflicting the law, enforcing the law are constantly committing the crime. Nobody understands, but that's it. The criminal world in its small way is in a sense a victim of its own emotions. Of the moment.

In Molodoi Niigodai, you tell the cop Zilberman that «Kostya Bondarenko is not a criminal, he's a romantic»…

— Your new book is Po Tyurmom, or Prison to Prison, which echoes Castle to Castle by Celine…

— Yeah, probably I found that the title of Celine's book is very good.

— When Celine put out his book, he said in a very cynical way that WWII was a very good thing for his literature. Did you feel that way when you were arrested?

— I should at least say it give the best for my writing. It's like the situation when you are in an extreme — in extreme situations you always see better, think better sharper, probably men need danger to be efficient. And I think those eight books of mine are in a way something new than what I wrote. Not reminding me of my other books. And sometimes it even achieves brilliance. But I let myself on purpose to write this, because I saw this reality. I live in it, so it's reality so basically works for publishing.

— And you see and hear things that you wouldn't. I remember there's a long description of Moscow radio stations, I guess because there's no choice…

— It was a part of my universe. It's not only that I choose it, but it was a big part of my living, I talk about it and think about it.

— There's a great section about hot songs that make you think about fat American women doing aerobics…

Something like that tortures you if you live in this country, but you don't think about it because you can get away. In prison you can't. Back to Celine — he said, after prison in Denmark, there are only two types of people in the world: people who've been to prison and people who don't know shit.

— That's very good prisoner's proverb: who was in prison won't laugh in circus. [laughs] No, those people are great. I don't know why, maybe I'm brighter than whoever, but I felt a certain greatness and I was proud that most of them respected me.

— It's unusual that you have a lot of compassion for those prisoners and you even feel like you owe them, you want to bring their story out.

— Yeah, I promised them. That's why wrote that book. Especially I promised this one guy, Andrei Sherchenko, that I would write the life in prison. And from his first appearance the book started. And I discovered incredible characters. There were two older boys, one was 18, they raped, killed 11 years old girl. And you know they were totally hated in prison by everybody as the whole. But some guys, I know this guy Telnikov, his klichka, nickname was «Tikho.» So he said — we were standing in a cage talking about those two — because they'd been kept away just in a hallway chained up to some pipes. And a lot of the younger guys said, «If I had a chance I would just strangle them.» Then that guy said, and he was very respected, «Shut up, asshole, what do you know? Maybe everything is invented by the policeman. You know those suckers. And the guys already suffer enough.» It was great, like the best gangster from the old movies. And he had great humor. When he was in court the judge said, «If you don't want to fire at people, why didn't you fire at the sky?» He said, «I was afraid that the bullet would land on me.» They are totally ruthless, yes, but… Or like they were afraid one of the guns used in the killing would be recovered by police. So they went to the place where they scalped it to re-buy the gun. But they got tired and they cut the guy. Incredible.

— What sort of hierarchies are there among the prisoners?

— This was Saratov prison, which was a red prison. It means that it was ruled by the police. But anyway there are some hierarchies actually. That is by the hierarchy of crimes. Not only, but it's most important. When I was delivered to Saratov from Moscow and I was in a cage alone and it was next to about thirty people and the officers came and I was asked to say my article for the crimes for which I was accused. I said it and it was silence in the next cage. Because 205 it is terrorism, 208 is formulation of military, 222 is the reference to the buying and keeping weapons and then 280, instigation to overthrow the government. They had never heard it. Then one of the ugliest, most terrible looking, he asked, he said, «Hey Uvazhayemii [respected one], you are from Moscow?» I said, «Yeah, from Moscow. Your prison is red?» One of them said «Red 'til dead.» First of all it is cause of crimes. But most of the prisons now in Russia are red, except for strangely enough Butyrka is a black prison. Black is where the prisoners are ruling. It doesn't mean they are doing what they want, but at least they are living in cooperation with the militsia men. Butyrka is black and Matrosky Tishina is also black. But for example Khordokovsky is sitting in the inside of the territory of Matrossky Tishina but that is a corpus where all the guys in all the rooms are FSB. It's the same at like Lefortovo.

— Why did they move him from Lefortovo? Lebedev was in Lefortovo.

— Actually it's the same conditions. It's difficult to say. But they never keep the co-defendants in the same prison, or never in the same block. For example in Saratov prison I was in the third block and another of us was in the fourth one and then two others were in the wings and two of our guys were in the prison in another city.

— One last question, about the eXile. What would you change about our newspaper?

— I think that if you become political, then you would suffer more. You see, our newspaper Limonka became very political and we lost a lot of readers. But we have no chance. We don't have the money to make it bigger to make it culture and politics. But we have no money for the moment. It was the whole spectrum before, but now it is only the half. I think you have everything, but you cannot throw out your reklama.

#7(188), April 16–29, 2004

You can kiss your tzar on his ass!

At 10:45 a.m. on August 2, about 30 members of National-Bolsheviks Party arrived to the main entrance of Russian Ministry of Health Care at Rakhmanovski pereulok in Moscow. Some of them were wearing a green overalls, pretending to be workers. They presented themselves as a team of sanitarians, arrived to do a disinfection of ministry premises. So they asked clerks to live for a while. Office workers have agreeably obeyed orders. National-Bolsheviks have occupied offices of Minister Zurabov, as well as a few other offices on the second and third floor. They opened the windows, fixed National-Bolsheviks flags out of the windows. Then they start to shout slogans and throw leaflets out of the windows.

They shouted, «Zurabov is enemy of the people!», «For our elders we'll cut your ears!», «Privileges to the people, Ministers to the guillotine!», «To people — free medicine, ministers to the guillotine!»

Leaflets have such text: «Zurabov go out! So-called 'monetarization of privileges' is crime of government against people. Minister Zurabov — one of the main organizers of that rip-off, is criminal. We are asking all honest citizens of Russia to crowd together against power of bureaucrats band, which terrorizing our country.»

At 11:25 first militia car have arrived. From above, from the window of Zurabov's office clear and strong voice said: «Do we have there, ministry clerks? You can kiss your tzar on his ass!» The portrait of President Putin is falling from the window of Zurabov's office on sidewalk. Photographic picture of that falling portrait of Putin was printed on the pages of dozens of newspapers, as well as fixed by telecameras.

At 11:55 special forces of militia OMON have stormed their way into building. They are about one hundred men strong. They breaking the doors of offices occupied by National-Bolsheviks on the third floor. As to Zurabov's office, National-Bolsheviks have heavily barricaded it from inside, so special militia men are breaking the wall!

Only at 12:20 the first prisoners National-Bolsheviks have appeared out of the door of Ministry. Twenty-five minutes have been used by militia special forces for applying the «measures of physical pressure» on the bodies of National-Bolsheviks. In other words, they were savagely beaten up with clubs and boots of OMON.

Then, at Tverskaya militia station all the night long National-Bolsheviks were beaten by FSB men. On the contrary, simple militiamen were rather sympathetic towards National-Bolsheviks.

On August 3, towards the end of the day Tverskoi district court started to sentence National-Bolsheviks for administrative offenses. Maxim Gromov was arrested second time, as well as Oleg Bespalov, Sergei Ezhov, Kirill Klionov, Anatoli Korshunski, Grigori Tishin and Anatoli Globa-Mikhailenko. Most of them aging from 17 to 22 years old, with exception of Gromov who is 31. Normally, even Russian judicial system making one judgement. But, as I presume, after facing August 3rd newspapers, and his own portrait, falling from a window, tzar Putin got very angry. He probably cursed, screamed and throwed some objects at his subordinates. AS a result: the team of then investigators was created by insistence of General Prosecutor's Office. Criminal case No.302345 was transferred from Tverskoi district to the Moscow prosecutor's office. AS a head of investigator's team was appointed Evgenii Alimov, investigator of specially important cases from Department of investigation of banditry and homicides of Moscow's prosecutors' office. They started to work.

And they really hard worked. In two weeks' time their investigation was over, because they sorted out from a case No.302345 a separated cause of seven National-Bolsheviks with Maxim Gromov en head, I have already named them. Russian government have charged those seven with hooliganism (article 213, part 2, of Penal Code, up to seven years of prison), and with destruction of property (article 167, part 2, up to five years imprisonment) on the somme of 181,206 rubles. The armchair of Zurabov was evaluated at 30,000 rubles, chair for visitors — 10,000 rubles, vase at 3,000 rubles, etc. But a value of portrait of Putin wasn't counted.

Four of our men are imprisoned at prison Matrosskaya Tishina. Other three recently transferred to Butirskaya prison. At present they are reading three volumes of their criminal case. Then it will be a trial. Party preparing that important trial, we have five lawyers working on case. We have all a deep conviction that a trial of seven National-Bolsheviks will be used by Putin as a showcase, as a tool to frighten opposition to his reign. For a year now, from August 2003 when chairman of Central Electoral Commission Mr.Veshnyakov was attacked with mayonnaise at now burned building of Manezh, National-Bolsheviks were attacking government, its institutions and its officials. Even vorst, National-Bolsheviks have given an example to other opposition parties. Young «Yabloko» members recently have lunched few attacks similar to early National-Bolsheviks tactics. «Avangard of Red Youngsters» — a leftist communist organization is also using National-Bolsheviks tactics. «Velvet terrorism» dangerously for government transferring itself to «Velvet partisan's war.» National-Bolsheviks giving an examples of hard resistance.

That is why government will try to sentence our seven men as harshly as possible. We are aware of that. That is why government [thing unheard of!] gave the task of investigation of the case of hooliganism to high class investigator of banditry and of homicides. Jesus Crist! For a year Putin's regime have punished National-Bolsheviks by unlawful beatings and tortures committed by FSB men. But as toreadors, waving a red flags at close range at the bulls eyes, we are unraged the bull to such degree, that bull decided to punish us by law. So, we will see who will win. The moral rightness is on our side. National-Bolsheviks at Ministry of Health Care were defending the rights of 103 million people, exactly as many were concerned by the set of new laws, voted by Parliament on August 3rd. The government, on the contrary, acting as an enemy of Russian people, taking away enormous amount of money from Russians. And not even explaining why government do so. At trial our positions that of government and of National-Bolsheviks Party will be visible. We are looking forward. It is also interesting to note, that Putin didn't signed yet that set of laws, against which NBP protested. Putin gets scared.

#16(197), September 3–16, 2004

Putin, go home, fishing!

President Putin's life have abruptly changed. After September 3rd his life looks like irreparable failure, personal tragedy. At his television appearance on September 4, President was pale, nervous, visibly out of balance. Because his tactics were not admittance of very existence of Chechens separatists, he was pretending that they are just small problem of police security.

First huge blow, however, was delivered to President Putin by seizure of theater on Dubrovka in October 2002. Immediately after he gave the order to organize presidential elections on Chechen territory. And Akhmad Kadyrov was elected President. At that time I have had a strong impression that Putin have decided to let Kadyrov's men and Maskhadov's men to settle their problems without Russian Army. I have waited on Army to be withdrawn from Chechnya.

But it never happened. Because of lack of political talent. Then on May 9th the time limit was over. Kadyrov was blowed up to pieces on Grozny Stadium. Party of «militiamen» as I name those Chechens collaborating with Putin have lost its charismatical leader. Party of «revolutionaries,» headed by Maskhadov have wined significant victory. As to Putin, he made wrong conclusions from Kadyrov's death. He started to look for successor for Kadyrov. Putin's choice was Alu Alkhanov, militia general, minister of Chechen government. Election campaign was done in best traditions of falsifications, of big and small lies, so Alkhamov was declared next Chechen President, the fifth one. Three of them, it worth to notice, were killed, Dudaev and Yandarbiev by Russians, Kadyrov by «revolutionary» Chechen.

Actually it is two wars today in Chechnya. One is civil war between «revolutionaries» — Maskhadov's men, and «militia-men» Chechens who have came to power with a help of Russian bayonets. The second war is going between Russian Army and revolutionary Chechens. Maskhadov and his men are engaged in typical liberation war against old colonial power. But for Russia that same war is a war for prestige, war of honor. The very precedent of losing that war may serve as example for others national autonomous republics of Russian Federation: get out from Mother Russia.

But a price to keep Chechens territory in Russian Federation becoming higher and higher. War itself is spreading from Caucasian territory to purely Russian cities, to Moscow — the capitol — into airspace also. Attacks itself become more terrible in size in might, as well as more frequent. Recent serial attack, the latest one, have started on August 25, when two aircrafts were blown up simultaneously in the sky over regions of Rostov-sur-Done and that of Tula: 96 dead. Then on August 31st woman-shakhid have blowed herself near metro station «Ryzhskaya.» On September 1st school number one at Ossetian city of Beslan was taken over. Over 300 people, most of them children have died after school was stormed under unclear circumstances. Five hundred dead in a few days!

So Putin is pale and visibly shaken. Because was terribly shaken his throne under him. He was so proud, haughty, so cold, so absolute monarch, all those years. He treated his enemies as «bandits,» «scum,» he promised to slaughter them in toilets. He never asked Russian people what to do in Chechnya. He recently forced State Duma to approve the law making impossible all referendums. Now Putin starts to talk. To us. First time in five years he needs us now.

He said, «It is difficult to talk. And bitter. The terrible tragedy have occurred on our land. All those last days each of us suffered terribly…» Then Putin united himself with us. One, two, three, fife times, six, seven and more times he named himself and us — «WE.» God knows he is in need of us now, but only to share responsibility for what happened. In one moment he even call us «dear friends»! Okh, me, dear friend of Putin?! But your general persecutors have keeped me for a years in prison, dear friend Putin! I was first arrested, then your persecutors busied himselves collecting some «proofs» of my culpability, all that time I was kept in your stinking prisons. I am not your dear friend Mister Putin. Seven members of my party are now in prison awaiting a trial, one young women serving term in Mordovia camp, no, we are not your dear friends, Mister President. You said: «Today we have to be together. Only by this way we will vin over enemy.»

No way to be together with you, Mister President. Even today, when your throne is shaken under you, you will not listen to us. You want us to give you another credit for more years of absolute rule, cold, haughty, arkhaical, and helpless. Because you don't know how to rule the country, as a politician you are talentless, your ideals as one can judge by your inauguration are those of Russian tzars, interpreted by cinema directed by Mikhailkov. Go home Mister Putin, go back to work at Federal Service of Security, to work as colonel in preventing terrorist attacks.

As a farewell gesture you can give us a favor: annulate a law, making referendums impossibles. Do it yourself. So we can organize a referendum on the fate of Chechnya. We, people, will ourselves decide what to do with that territory. We will decide it immediately, according to our national interests, and not according to desires of your personal Ego, Mister Putin. Go home to Saint-Petersburg, better to retirement, go fishing, go beer drinking. We know you like German beer. Just go, simply go.

#17(198), September 17–30, 2004

Hight society evening

I arrived to «Praga» restaurant by smallest Russian vehicle — «Oka» one-door tiny car, where we were packed, four National-Bolsheviks, counting our driver — Yuri, ex-patrol man. Other distinguished guests of Radio «Echo of Moscow» were driving much more distinguished vehicles — I noticed them stepping out of foreign «BMW's» and «Mercedeses». Yuri have stayed in his tiny car, as I comrades Dmitri and Iliya went to restaurant. We when through metallo-detectors, then mounted on second floor, where jass band was playing. «Praga» is old-fashion building full of columns, huge windows, carpets, palm trees, all that retro chic, you know. So Jazz is playing, National-Bolsheviks on my sides, I am entering that gathering of beaumonde. It is 19:15. Although soiree have started at 19, the place is swarming with people.

First who I saw was chef-editor Alexei Venedistov, his red scalp hair looking like a barbed wire bouquet. My butterfly-tie, white shirt and black velvet jacket made him happy. He shaked my hand and said in delighted voice — The only man wearing a butterfly-tie here is the leader of National Bolsheviks party!— I have counted on your appreciation — said I. Congratulations, your radio is only one left island of liberty in Russia.

Bronzed Irina Khakamada emerged from a crowd. I am working on my comrades to get you into Committee of 2008 — said Khakamada. At least we will have one, who is doing things, the others only talk. You remember, I told you your party should switch from «food terrorism» to make serious projects… You did it. You should talk to Nemtsov about «Committee of 2008».— Will Ministry of Justice register your party «Free Russia?» asked I.— I don't think so, Khakamada said.— I don't believe it either, said I.— My comrades liberals are making plans for elections in 2008. I personally don't believe it will be elections, Khakamada said.

Jazz is cool, white Georgian wine is cool also. Secretary of East European embassy give to me his visit card. Journalist from Spanish newspaper asks about my telephone. Two girls from French consulate stopped by, we speak French for a few minutes. Then I see a woman from my past — at least from twenty years ago. Irene is her name, she was translator of Francois Mitterrand, as well as escorted Jacques Chirac to Russia and now she is charge d'affaires in French Embassy. She is will a tall man in dark-grey suit, wearing small red stripe on his jacket — Legion of Honor. I kissed Irene, who introduced me to man who happened to be French Ambassador. She said — that is monsieur Limonov, our French citizen, «co-citoyen» she said. It sounded sarcastically, but I am holder of a French passport. Ambassador asked about me visiting France. I said that I am afraid that Russian authorities will not let me back to Russia. Ambassador probably was happy to hear that troublemaker will stay on Russian soil.

Zhironovsky was passing near. I found his eyes by mine and said, «Good evening Vladimir Volfovich.» He shaked my hand — Your beard, he said, looks good on you.— Why don't you have a beard? I suggested.— Me? Don't want, too much trouble… — How is your abouts? I asked.— My beard? misunderstood he.— No, you, your party, how are you?— Tired, Zhironovsky said, tired. And he looked tired: grey sheen, unshaven two days old bristles on his cheeks… He looked as old Mussolini just before arrest. Liberal-Democrat Party camera was following Zhirinovsky, he filmed all Zhironovsky's movements. I said «We all love you, Vladimir Volfovich,» what wasn't truth, and he moved from me, satisfied, I guess.

I gulped a glass of white wine, to prepare myself to talk to communists. A group of them were eating and drinking, crowded around Zuganov. I shaked hand to second in command, to Melnikov and started conversation. I thanked communists for helping to liberate two National Bolsheviks Party activists from prison in Moldova. It was possible to do because Moldova's president Voronov is communist himself. Then Zuganov joined us in conversation.— And what do you think about situation? he asked me. I said that I like how the things go, that President Putin does everything in order to reject all groups of society.— Look around, Gennadi Andreivich, I said, was it possible to imagine to gather such different people together even few years ago?— We are here thanks to Putin. He unified opposition.— And what do you think about this summer events? Asked Zuganov. Obviously he wanted to hear from me what do I think about his party split. I said that is fault of vanity and megalomaniac of certains of communists leader.— You should more carefully choose your comrades, said I.Zuganov nodded. That is his usual manner to talk to people, to ask questions. Difficult to say is he interested in your opinion, or that is communist politeness.

Advantages of such gathering as that that took place in «Praga» restaurant, that one can meet all together in one place, all needed vip persons. Weakened by alcohol, food and music that are ready to give you some promises that they will regret later, probably. In the hall number two located behind the backs off jazz-band I discovered Grigori Yavlinsky. For some time we looked, me and Yavlinsky at each other. Then Yavlinsky made few steps towards me and greeted me with a happy smile. He shaked my hand and he said that he wanted to talk to me one day face to face for a few hours. I said that my feelings towards him are friendliest feelings. We were such sweet men. Then we exchanged telephone numbers. Happy photographs worked with their cameras as with machine guns.

Mr.Krasheninnikov — Deputy of State Duma and ex-minister of Justice catched my eyes and slowly moved his hand towards me.— Do you regret that in 1998 refused to register us as All Russia Political Party? asked I.— No, he said. And he smiled maliciously.— Will you give Interview to our newspaper? I asked.— Yes, he said and pronounced his telephone number, moving out of us.

Fat and huge number two of Liberal-Democratic Party Alexei Mitrofanov told me a story concerning my arrest and trial in 2001.— When you were arrested, I asked Ustinov [General Public Prosecutor] why you have arrested Limonov? Take Chechens, so many of them running in Chechen mountains. And Ustinov said with horror that «state must not let that such things as Chechens do, were done by Russians. For fear that then will have a hell.» Then Mitrofanov poured vodka in huge glass. I left him alone.

My old friend from French days Lev Bruni smoked cigar. He praised my book «Prison to Prison» as a piece of classical literature. Poet Michel Gendelev said that «Book of Water» prefect text. Genrich Padva said that my book «Hunting for Anatoli Bykov» is excellent research. That last Padva's appreciation made me happy, because Padva was Bykov's lawyer, so he knows the truth. Mister Pushkov — tele-star anchor-man of TVC-program «Post Scriptum» assured me that his reportage about National-Bolsheviks Party will be well balanced and just. That my fears I have expressed during shooting of reportage were unfounded. When we left «Echo of Moscow» anniversary, Minister of Culture Mr.Schvidkoi was talking on his mobile telephone downstairs. He quickly turned his face away.

We left high society, packed in our tiny mini-car. Four National-Bolsheviks. Happy.

On Saturday nigh TVC translated «Post Scriptum.» In one moment Pushkov have assembled to reportage about National Bolsheviks who do you think? Yes, Adolph Hitler.

#18(199), October 1–14, 2004

Fellow, named Surkov

Fellow, named Surkov, have addressed to nation huge piece of words, two entire pages of them, swarming as worms. 360 millimeters high and 560 millimeters wide. I am talking of course about Surkov's now-famous interview to «Komsomolskaia Pravda» in its issue of September 29. Interview is intended to explain to Russian people, those who are readers of yellow newspaper Komsomolskaya Pravda Putin's programme. Because our monarch Vladimir Putin have sended to his subjects his personal message by his personal footman Surkov.

Surkov is 40 years old, educated, graduated from «Institute of Steel» and from «Institute of International Affaires.» So he is educated footman, who worked in succession for Bank Menatep, for Yukos and Alfa Bank, then from 1999 Surkov is appointed to Putin's Administration. Although born in willage Solntsevo in Lipetsk Region, he is not a man of people, but President's man. He is probably very proud of himself, coming from village into Kremlin's offices and halls. I bet he is enormously proud of himself.

When asked by journalist, «One such opinion exist that Putin is using events in Beslan for strengthening his personal power and for liquidation of democracy. How founded are those fears, expressed by Russian and foreign politicians?»

Surkov said cynically: «Our country is unique and requires its own system of governing.» In another words that village boy Surkov saying that Russia is populated by such horrible people that unique in their beasty habits, so they should be governed by 29 police armed divisions, about two million policemen in all. Then Surkov said: «Putin strengthening not himself, but state: His authority is sufficiently high and he has no problems with regional leaders. And New System will work not immediately and not for Putin personally.»

Here we will stop. Not many people in Russia believe that Putin will step down from power in year 2008. Very few people believe. Many people know that for become a winner in Governors' elections today candidate should spend about 2 dollars per capita for each registered voter. So, to become the Governor of region of Lipetsk, native to Mister Surkov, he, or somebody else who is competing for that place should spend from 5 to 7 million. It is not counting all sorts of bribes which one should bring (or «Zanesti» as politicians call them on their slang) to various chinovniks. With a new system, however, all those money will go to one hands, to person, or persons who will recommend to President to appoint such or such a person a Governor. Probably they will go to Mister Surkov. Certainly, they will go to high chinovniks of Presidents Administration, Mister Surkov among them. That what people say, I heard that from a dozen of State Duma deputies. «Zanesti» — that is real programme of Putin, Surkov's manifesto intended for poor readers of Komsomolskaya Pravda, are only swarming words.

Amongst others wonderful pearls taken from Surkov's mouth I appreciated an attack on Parliamentarism. «The birth-trauma of Parliamentarism is its dependence on elections, past and future elections. Parlia-mentary discussions always and everywhere smell of populism and in our country with our very low level of political culture often transformed into force.» You see, Surkov is sure that we, Russians, have low level political culture, so we are not politically cultured enough to have Parliamentary System. That exactly what he is saying, that twice educated man from Lolntsevo in Lipetsk region. He talks like a worst possible Russophobe will have a shame to talk. Mister Surkov, Russians have sufficient level of political culture. Before President Putin, that Terminator or political liberties came to power, we have had hundreds of political partiers. We still have 45 political parties, despite yours and your monarchs efforts to kill them. We have 350 thousand civil organizations in Russia. But you and your monarch are saying that Russians have not civil society. We have everything, but we still have independent parties and independent organizations, that the story.

And your enormous efforts to kill our liberty and directed towards unique goal: to have only few [better to have one] political party, your own party, party of your monarch.

You don't like Parliamen-tarism? You don't. One can figure out that if dependence on elections is trauma, so the best possible political system is such, which are not dependable on election, in other words hereditary succession of power by the son or daughter of monarch (or President). Let spare our Russian tender people from every four years traumas, let's get (after old Putin will die) let's put his older daughter to presidential armchair, yes, that what you want? I don't know what is her name, but it doesn't matter, it will be Dasha or Masha Putin. Then Ivan Putin, Stepan Putin. No traumas Good Russian names, men's and women's names.

On Chechen War Mister Surkov have said: «Chechen problem, as problem of world terrorism no easy solution. Only difficult, hard solution might be. And we started its realization. It is active socialization of Northern Caucasus, step by step establishing of democratical institutions, establishing foundation for civil society, of effective policing system of production system and social infrastructure, struggle against unemployment, corruption against collapse of culture and education. On that road we will have the stops and even victims. That way is not direct and short one, but is only awaylable.»

Bullshit, Mister Surkov. Why that is no terrorism exists in Bellorussia., no terrorism in Ukraine? Why in Russia? Ukraine have enormous unemployment, entire populations of some regions have migrated to Spain, to Portugal, that are problems and problems in Belorussia (its biggest problem however Mister Lukashenko), but our neighbors have no terrorism. Mister Surkov that is Chechen war sending to Russian cities terrorists commandos. Stop that fucking war, Russia will be quiet place.

In the very end of his interview Mr.Surkov for a first time have named «internal enemies» of Putin's Regime. Those are «Limons» and «Yabloki.» (!!!). «Practically in our seized country have appeared fifth column of rightists and leftists radicals. Limons and some 'yabloki' are growing on the same branch. The false liberals and real Nazis have more and more in common. Common sponsors of foreign provenance. Common hate, towards Putin's, as they say. But in reality towards Russia as such. No wonder. About those have wrote Dostoevskii, and today all those Smerdiakovs and Liam-shins are pleasantly spending time in all sorts of committees for awaiting eighth year, where they are preaching expediency of defeat of their country in war with terrorism. God will them judge. We will do without them.»

That sounds rather ominously. I hope that God of Mister Surkov will be no a God of Lubyanka. What they will do without us, without Limonovs, Yavlinskis, without Khakamadas, Kasparovs, Nemtsovs? Probably bloody mess. They will have a war in Chechnya for another century?

I hate his guts, of that Mister Surkov, Looking like vampire on Komsomolskaya Pravda page. We have two countries in Russia. Vampires countries and another Russia — mine.

#19(200), October 15–28, 2004

Bush, Kerry, Putin and company

Kerry looks like Irish-Polish father of Julie — Gary Carpenter. Julie Carpenter was my girlfriend from 1977 until december 1978, when she moved to California, to San Francisco. Kerry as tall and skinny as that father of Julie. Gary was an FBI oficer, responsible for diamond trade. I mean he worked at department of FBI responsible for diamond trade. That why I trust Kerry, strangely enough, because father Carpenter was a serious, good, noncurrupted oficer. So, unconsciously I believe that another look alike old guy Kerry is also serious, good and uncorrupted. Father Carpenter was a father of eight children, including Julie. Julie's grandmother, Gary's mother was Polish. She warned Julie from having relationships with a Russian, with me. Russians are all drunkards and they all beating up their wifes, said Julie's grandmother. And she wasn't very far from truth, when she said that. But Polaks are also big drunkards, although I don't know about them beating wifes.

Anyway, Kerry I trust. He looks like old horse, tired enough for not making troubles. The best kind of president that is unoffending one, who doesn't have desire or doesn't have anymore force to tyrannize «his» citizens. Russians made huge mistake just recently, when they voted for rather young blond officer Putin. Putin is too severe for to be a good head of state. Putin is too angry, I will even use the word «evil», that guy is too evil. He probably hates us, as tzar hated his subjects. So if one wants to have a balanced slow life in his country one should vote for somebody tired as Kerry. Energetic, dynamical president is a trouble for his country. In Russia , for Russians the main problem is officer Putin. Without him we would live happy, calm lifes on our frozen steppes.

Vote Kerry, because Bush is unhappy, uncalm, as ex-alcoholic he accumulated during his alcohol days a lot of anxiety. He is disquiet person, that George W. Bush. In 18 century small group of extraordinary Americans (admirers of Roman Empire, all of them) have created American Constitution that governs the United States. In Constitution they arranged an oath that the President of United States should swear. He should swear to protect that very Constitution «against all enemies.» George W. Bush didn't protected it on September 11, 2001.

When I look at faces of George H. W. Bush and of his son George W. Bush I like face of a father more then son's face. At profile Bush Junior's head reminds a bird's head. His nose looks like a beak of small hawk. No wonder he is a hawk in politics, Bush pecking at Afghan mountains, at Iraqi deserts peck, heck, peck again.

Kerry or Bush, but America have offended many countries and many peoples, and many nations. Loved as promised land, yes, by poor emigrants from Europe, first republic in modern history, America have fallen from a grace of people of the world. She is now looked upon as a brutal Empire, supressing other countries independences, other lifestyles, others, to be short. Bush Junior it seems to me do not understand that enemy of the United States is not al Qaeda, but people of the world. For its short, yet, History, the United States managed to offend brutally all Latin America's people, then Phillipinos, Koreans, Vietnamis, Arabs, Iranians, Serbs, and others, America knows them all.

Then America wonders why few thouzands of its angelical citizens have died under tons of steel and glass of World Trade Centers. So, Bush or Kerry, but America will have a same big problem of consciousness: problem of understanding of its nature, because America is EVIL. That guy Mohammed Atta and his friends sacrificed themselves against Evil. Rethinking, all American history, revision of its goals in the world should be done by the United States Elite, by its presidents, if they are Great people. But they are not, Kerry looks like an old tired FBI agent, Bush has a beak of a hawk. They are not Alexander Hamilton or Thomas Jefferson, those guys. They will not grasp that it is not international terrorists that are hate guts of America, but the people of the world. For the centuries of bullying them. And people not forgetting insults, they remember insults for centuries, and milleniums.

Russia is as brutal country as the United States are, but Russian State aggressiveness is directed inside, the United State aggressiveness is directed outside, against other people and countries. Russian State aggressiveness was always primarly directed against its own citizens. Putin probably don't understand why he is clenching his teeths and fists: but he does so because a crowd of tzars and communists caesars have done it before him. It is inherited hate against us — people, against subjects of his state. Opposition: Russian State (Putin) against Russian People will take place in next few years. It will certainly change relationships between people and State for the profit of Russian People. We will obtain our liberties, taken from us over the centuries.

President Putin have recently supported hawknosed Bush Junior. He said something very clumsy: he said that «defeat of Bush will be a victory of International Terrorism.» President Putin's statement was ridiculed by some Russian journalists. But President Putin proved to be a fidel friend, to Bush. Vladimir Putin is not friend to Russian People, looking to Bush, Putin is always smiling. I am a Great Russian Writer, for example. At my age, my achievements are already visible and they are undisputable. I am somewhere between Dostoevskii and Bakunin. What did I have from a Putin's State? Under Putin I was jailed, I spend a few years of my life in prisons. Finally, even Russian judge couldn't find a proofs of my guilt, I was convicted only of posession and stocking arms. Putin never smiled to me. He smiles to Bush. Putin never answered one letter of Russian people. He is cold as a fish and dangerous as KGB officer. But thanks to stupidity of millions of house-wifes and simple village idiots I forced to live under joke of that mister.

There is no international terrorism in real world. Only desperate desires of people and groups of people to live their lifes as they wish to live, not as Putin or hawknosed Bush or even FBI-like Kerry are forcing them to live. Allah akbar!

#20(201), October 29 — November 11, 2004

Dr. Limonov's advices on surviving russian interrogation

When detained, you shouldn't talk to them without presence of lawyer. Remember that: at first hours and first days of detention you will be most vulnerable: surrounded by policemen, frightened, so you will easy to deal with. Anything you say will be later used to destroy you or your friends. So, don't talk, don't sign anything. Wait for the lawyer.

Almost sure you will be beaten, when detained. The very degrees of beating will depend on crime which you suspected to commit. If you are suspected of committing homicide, you will be severely beaten, in order to force you to confess. In Russian law system confession is very important. You should manage do not confess for three days, afterwards you will be released or will be transferred to prison. In prison during investigation you will not be beaten, they will use other means of influence on you. That because, when in prison, you will be under charge of two administrations: prison administration and team of investigators. Each will not be interested to bear responsibilities for your injuries and hematomes.

When talking with investigator, even if your lawyer seating next to you, don't give them names of people. Never mention the names because those people might be summoned for interrogation, so you will put them in trouble. Those people named by you, may say some bad things about you, about other innocent people. No names.

The best thing to do is to use the word «not» as much as you can. «No, I don't know what you talking about. No, I never met that man.» Try to avoid the sentences like, «No, but…»

Remember that interrogator, no matter how silly he might look, been taught of primitive art of interrogation. Even if he is not smart, his is professional. You should be aware that he is capable to cheat you, he will do it on every occasion. Don't believe in interrogator's promises. He might promise you liberation from prison or unsignificant punishment, but you should know that judge, not investigator, will decide your fate.

Don't talk to investigator as to your friend. Talk to him only as with your worst enemy, and he is your worst enemy. Never try to explain him yourself, or your life, or your preferences, or tastes. Everything you said will be used against you.

Investigation of yours might be protocoled in due form: question, answer. In order to sound clear — talk in short phrases. When investigation is over and protocoled you and your lawyer should read it CAREFULLY. You should protest against phrases protocoled not as you said them. Those phrases might have big influence on your fate. You and your lawyer shouldn't sign protocol, if investigator is refusing to change some protocols lines. Foreigners have a right to have a translator. Use your right even if you speak perfect Russian. Try to get in touch with your embassy.

You should know that Russian police habits are harsh. In order do not provoke unnecessary violence on you don't tease them, don't mock them: speak seriously, with determination, straight-forward. They will see what kind of man you are in a few first hours of interrogation: you should control yourself at least during three days. If by the chance you are not tortured in those three days, very unlikely that you will be physically abused later.

I wasn't beaten up when arrested in 2001 at Altai mountains. It explains itself by two reasons: 1) I am too known figure in Russian world; 2) I was a target of interrogators. I was destined to be judged as organizer, leading figure of crime. My second-in-command, Sergei Aksionov, was also left alone, he wasn't beaten up because he was also destined to be an organizer. On the contrary six other men arrested with us were interrogated all night long, beaten up, menaced with pistols (barrel of a gun was puted on forehead), in order to force them testify against me and Aksionov. But all of us, we were arrested by FSB-men, Russian police is more brutal than FSB.

Pressure on you might be applied also by a cell-mate. Usually your first cell-mate is an informer, working for the police. (It might be different, if they had no time for preparation. In small village prison of Ust-Koksa I was in my cell with two young horse-stealers, they weren't informers, those boys with Mongol faces.) So you shouldn't talk to him about your «crime,» about your life, about anything except simple matters: food, women, weather, etc. Because your cell-mate almost certainly will rapport to your interrogator about you.

Remember that all your weaknesses, fears, all particular traits of your character will be noticed by policemen who will deal with. All that will be noted in some documents, what will travel with you from prison to prison, from one interrogator to another one. So you should be strong-willed, bright, clever from the first hour of your detention. Your behavior in first hour and first day of detention will affect all your fate.

If they decided to press the charges against you, as I said, you will be transferred to SIZO — investigative isolation prison, in Moscow it is usually «Butirka» (Butirskaya prison) or «Matroska» (prison with a poetical name «Sailor's Silence» — Matrosskaya Tishina), women are held in Prison No.6. Those are huge old prisons. Butirka's population is about 7,000 men, Matroska's population around 10,000. Some cells are populated up to 100 men, some about 10 or 20. Small cells are preferable.

As I said, you will not be beaten up in SIZO but they have some special cells where you might be pressured by other prisoners. Those cells are named «press-khata.» Pressure is usually: menaces, advices to confess, vicious promises to kill you when you are asleep, etc. Strong person will stand up anyway, after few days then, you will be let alone and transferred from a press-khata to usual cell. It might also happen that you will not be put in press-khata at all.

Basic wisdom: don't have a fear. Be ready to everything. One example: Oleg Laletin, one of protagonist of my process in Saratov choose to collaborate with investigators. Once he confessed he was afterwards a preferred victim for them. When it was a time for him to testify in a courtroom he was transferred to a cell with the sick of AIDS, under false pretext that his blood samples were suspect. It was a lie, of course. When he gived the testimony what satisfied FSB, he was transferred back to his old cell. Finally Laletin was sentenced to an equal punishment as others accused National-Bolsheviks, who were strong and never admitted their guilt. His veakness made him a traitor. Be avare of that, you, prisoner of tomorrow's days.

#21(202), November 12–25, 2004

What is that all hustle about

November 22, early morning:

According to friend of mine, Ukranian politician, Russian Government have sended about two milliard dollars only at first presidential vote of Ukranian elections. 870 million dollars of those two billions were money due to Russia as a payment for Russsian gas. Russian professionals of elections proudly have made a fortune at first tour of Ukranian election. Notorious specialist of dirty tricks Gleb Pavlovski alone earned 24 million dollars, according to my source.

I am writing on the very eve of second round of Ukranian elections, when two thirds of ballots are counted and official results are about one percent for Mr.Yanukovitch ahead of Mr.Yushchenko. I am writing in the middle of pause suddenly announced by Central Electoral Commition of Ukraine, a pause in counting of ballots. When it is a pause announced in Eastern Europe country, one should be aware that something is going wrong for the government. And government hopes that during pause it can do something to help itself: to cheat people of course.

Some electoral achievements announced before pause are astonishing. At coal miners' city of Enakievo, where Mr.Yanukovitch was born, electoral attendance was 100%! In Donetsk, the capital city of coal miners region attendance was 97%. In the same time voters of central and Western Ukraine, traditionally anti-Russian and overwhelmingly voted for Yushchenko in first tour, in second round have expressed amazing indeference towards elections: only about 70% of them participated at second round. When I am writing I am listening to radio «Echo of Moscow,» translating directly from Independance Plaza. Supports of Yushchenko, about 20 thousand of them gathered on the Central Plaza of Kiev. Crowd is growing. they wait for arrival of Yushchenko, their leader. They are stopped traffic at Krestchatik, the main street of Kiev. What it is going to happen? I hope revolution will happen. Or public disorders.

Myself I am absolutely cool about choice of leader for Ukraine. Both: Yanukovitch and Yushchenko are big huge swine-looking bureaucrats, both ex-prime-ministers. Their political orientations (Yanukovitch is supposedly pro-Russian and Yushchenko supposedly is pro-Western) so volatile, that they cannot be trusted those both men. Even if Yanukovitch today is posing as pro-Russian and pro-Putin man, who can stop him become pro-Western after winning an election? Nobody can stop. He didn't signed an agreement with his blood, giving his soul to Russia. Those Ukranian gentlemen cannot be trusted. Actual President Mr.Kuchma was during his political career in turn pro-Russian, Pro-European, Pro-American and Pro-Russian again. The choice between two swine-looking bureaucrats is not so exciting. Ukranians have not choosen between say, Che Gevara and Yanukovitch, between capitalist development and Revolutionary way of life. So, what is all that hustle about? Coal miners better to drink their Ukranian vodka «Goritka,» stay home and fuck their huge wives. Do it for next elections, brothers.

A lot was said those days about Ukranian elections. I was interviewed by few Ukranian journalists. Journalists were on Yushchenko's side. As to arguments they were using against person of Yanukovitch the strongest argument was that Yanukovitch was twice or three times sentenced for criminal offences. I argued them, me also. I was sentenced to four years but does it make me less honest man, then my fellows Russians? Journalists have said — No, it doesn't make you less honest.

I think President Putin's visit to Ukraine two weeks ago is the reason for such electoral passions of Ukranians. Freshly independent state, Ukraine is jealously guarding its virgin independence especially in relationship with Russia, who was Ukraine's master state for centuries. So, by his visit and support he gave to Yanukovitch Putin is actually spread an oil on fire. It wasn't very bright idea to excite nationalist feelings of Ukranians. It was rather clumsy idea. As a result we are having passionate gatherings for crowds in Ukranian cities.

However, both Yanukovitch and Yushchenko are not good for a job of Ukranian president. Millions have seen Yanukovitch falling under throwed egg during his election campaign. Big swine looking man just felt on the ground with his hand on his chest. From egg's impact huge man felt on the ground. He thought that the bullet hited. Poor thing that Yanukovitch man, about 150 kilograms, over-weighted. But the bullet is supposed to be a part of presidential job, a part of profession. Every monarch, every elected leader of a state should expect one day to be assassinated. If leader falls under egg it is laughable leader. More laughable if he weights 150 kilograms or so. Even if a bullet hits a President of State, he, President, should fall with a dignity, as statue in full length, with heroical smile. I am no an admirer of President Reagan, but Reagan behaved well when Hinckley shooted at him. He looked brave, Reagan, I mean.

Another Ukrainian supposed to be President, Mr.Yushchenko went to Austria as he had a problem with his stomach. Austrain doctors then said that he, Yushchenko wasn't poisoned. Yushchenko in his turn said no, doctors are wrong. I am poisoned. Face of Yushchenko meanwhile had some furuncles, future Presidnet looks ugly. Jesus, where Ukranians found those fragile creatures: one has gastric problmes, another one falls under an egg! Shame! I went through three prison, never had a gastric problem, no temperature, never ever was sick. President should be healthy man, at least.

November 22, late evening: radio announcing final results of yesterday elections in Ukraine: 49.7% for Yanukovitch and 46.7% for Yushchenko. Independence Plaza, according to radio «Echo of Moscow» is crowded by 100,000 persons. Good, I hope they will fight. I hope they will smash each other noses. Nothing terrible going to happen. Just little fight, political fight, because one should defend its political position, even if it is only a choice between two swine-looking man. However, I hope it will be a big fight, that will eventually go across the border to Mother Russia's territory, on the streets of frozen Moscow City, under Lujkovs and Putin's sky. Smash, fight, fight, smash, it going to be beautiful. I bet.

#22(203), November 26 — December 9, 2004

Putin should give us warm coats

1) President Putin has no ideology. For his personal usage he is practicing belief in Supremacy of Russian Leaders Power. No matter how leader is named: Tzar or president or general secretary.

2) President Putin believe that Russian people are his subjects, not fellow citizens. Although Putin may call them «citizens,» he relates to him as subjects.

3) President Putin is arrogant towards his subjects. He never ever asked their opinion about important question of nation's life. Even more: he aggressively doesn't want to hear their opinions: Putin's State Duma voted unanimously for such harsh procedures of public referendum that to stage a referendum in Russia is practically impossible.

4) President Putin is arrogant towards «his» people because for 15 years of his adult life he was a privileged officer of KGB. His Red card of KGB officer always placed him above ordinary citizens lives. He learned how to despise Russian people at very early years of life.

5) President Putin has no sense of value of life of Human being. He gave orders to storm theater on Dubrovka [where performance of «Nord-East» has taken place], occupied by Chechen troops, he gave orders to storm a school at Beslan, where about thousand of hostages [most of them children] were captured. President Putin sacrificed lives of hundreds of 'his' subjects in order to save his own image as tough man. He is unsensible, heart-less.

6) President Putin has his residence behind Kremlin walls, inside of medieval fortress that like a giant spider sucking Moscow's hills and all Russia. President Putin's power is medieval in its nature. It is humiliating for Russian people to have such absolute monarch in 21st century.

7) President Putin ruling country according to his dreams. His dreams have its origin in Russia before 1917, because renouncing communist ideology when serving democrat Sobtchak in 1990–1995 Putin was left with only Russian ideology beside communist, with tzarism. So Putin is dreaming tzarism and practicing tzarism in 2004.

8) Because previous president of Russia Boris Yeltsin was an alcoholic, President Putin has an advantage of fresh, sportive man in comparison. For five years Russian babushka's are happy with Putin's looks. Last summer, however fresh Putin demanded from State Duma to take some of babushka's and grand-father's privileges away, such as gratuitous access to metro and rail-way trains, gratuitous medical care, etc.

9) President Putin practicing war in Chechnya, in order to justify existence of police state all over Russia. So, streets of Russian cities reminding streets of cities occupied by the enemy troops. Endless check — ups, control and verification of documents made lives of ordinary citizens unbearable.

10) President Putin have eliminated political life in Russia. Just few days ago State Duma voted the law according to which political party might be registered by state only if party have no less then 50 thousand adherents. Names and addresses of party members should be submitted to Ministry of Justice. Knowing Russian History who can be sure that those people will not be arrested by state soon or later?

11) President Putin is tyrant. He is not even modern tyrant, he is medieval tyrant, working in Kremlin fortress, traversing Moscow with his escort of secret services, in high speed. When Putin traversing Moscow, police stopping all creatures, human or animal. Everybody is waiting when tyrant will pass.

12) President Putin and his servants love to say that Russian people are special, that they are less developed socially and politically than people of western country. And because of that say Putin Russians need more state control and police control of their lives. It is of course lie.

13) President Putin was ordinary small officer of KGB. He is still small officer of KGB, having no talents, no knowledge of the world affairs. He is vain, we, Russian people can see that President Putin having great pleasure to be host for President George Bush or Italian President Silvio Berlusconi. Putin is smiling in talking to them. But Putin is not smiling in talking to us-Russians.

14) Yes, more then 48 millions of Russians have voted for Putin to be behind Kremlin walls. But those 48 millions made tragical mistake. It is simple, those poor creatures have a smaller life experience, they never ever were outside their regions, most of them old and badly educated. So they don't know that an art of lie, art of falsehood is most useful weapon in modern politics. Putin is not good-natured. He is not benevolent. He is bad-natured.

15) Putin behaving as our harsh, tough father, who is punishing his people for undiscipline, for that they are poor, for that they are not working enough, to become rich. But we don't need an evil father, punishing us. We don't need father at all. We need a good-natured fellow citizen who will understand us and who will be bright and fair to us. We need a brother president not a father.

16) Putin building new premises for FSB headquarters. As two of biggest buildings of Lubianka are not enough. We are looking at those construction works with suspicion. We are sure that new building will be used to do evil things.

17) President Putin's men have falsified results of elections of December 7, 2003. But Nordic, frozen Russians didn't protest, it was no uprising as in Ukraine.

18) Russia has a bad climate. In addition to it we have frozen president, completely indifferent to his people. He didn't like us. Secretly he probably likes Germans, those huge beer-bellied Germans. He probably having dreams that he is President of Germans. We know that Putin liked German beer, when serving in East-Germany.

19) What I wan to state, that Russian people claims to Putin are not political, they are natural, biblical, we need a good-natured, good-humored man with a kind face. Who will say to us pleasant things, will give us small useful gifts. As Evita Peron, in her time: sewing machines, motorcycles, say, warm coats. What it will cost to President Putin's pocket if he would buy some few coats and will give it to poor passerby's on streets of Moscow.

20) But President Putin never will stop on the frozen street of Moscow. He will never take one warm coat after another [kind face, kind smile] from a lorry of warm coats. Because he is not a kind man, his heart is full of darkness.

#23(204), December 10–23, 2004

Forty seven prisoners

From newspaper «Trud» I have learned today that I am «small, unsignificant man, wearing ridiculous hat, slowly moving between two huge bodyguards.» Article of journalist from Briansk was printed next to article about pedophil, unmasked as teacher. As National-Bolsheviks Party becoming more and more important in political life of Russia, the more dirt throwed at me by FSB influenced-newspapers and television. Fortunately, anti-Putin's media is stronger than pro-Putin.

National-Bolsheviks Party have started anti-monetization campaign as early as August 2, when her activists have attacked the ministry of Health and Social Development. Notre camarades Gromov, Tishin, Klionov, Globa-Mikhailenko, Ejov, Korchunski, Bespalov have seized few offices of Ministry, office of Minister Zurabov among them. For that peaceful crime they were punished by five-years sentence for each of them on December 20. Russia was more or less calm, preparing itself to season of greetings, for a long celebration period. Not National-Bolsheviks Party, week earlier on December 14, crowd of National-Bolsheviks have invaded the reception office of Presidents Administration in the center of Moscow, near Kremlin, on Iliinka street. Forty (!) our comrades were arrested and placed at moscows prisons. Among them nine girls. Their only crime actually was their demand of Putin's Resignation. They were armed with leaflets and thin brochures of Russian Constitution. They are still in prison. They are accused of vandalism, damage of property and «seizure and holding of State power,» Article 278 of Penal Code of Russia, punished from 12 to 20 years. Arrest of forty youngsters most of them students, accused of overthrowing Government by invading reception room choked little bit even Russian public opinion, but season of Greetings have distracted everybody.

Then, all celebrations over, Russians went to their usual lifes on January 11th: They went to metro, to public transport only to disover that order in new. 103 million of Russians, or two thirds of entire population have lost their privileges of free acsess to public transportation. Elder people proved to be class mostly suffered from Law number 122, what Mr.Zurabov have prepared. On August 2 our comrades have protested against that very law number 122. So, angry, frustrated, elderly people started to gather at some strategical points of Russian cities by hundreds or by thousands. At Saint-Petersburg, at Samara, Kazan, Perm, Barnaul and many others. They were supported by some opposition political parties, National-Bolsheviks came first. And were amiably greeted everywhere, as party of forty-nine political prisoners, as party of seven condemned to five years imprisonement for protesting against anti-peoples law number 122. Mighty «tsunami» of peoples protest have rolled over Russia from Vladivostok to Kaliningrad.

Stupid machine of State screamed, alarm chirped, machine stopped and backed. Angry, vexed ministres and prosecutors are in search of guilty ones. And they have found them. Public prosecutor of Samara Region Mr.Efremov on January 12 have stated that organizers of pensioners meeting of Samara «are National-Bolsheviks from Edward Limonov's Party.» Saint-Petersburg's Governer Mme Matvienko, talking on Chanel 5th Saint-Petersburgs television have accused NBP of organising meetings at Saint-Petersburg. On January 19 our accusers have joined ministre of Finances Mr.Kudrin. «We have to investigate who decided to gain from anxiety of elders», said Kudrin. And added, «inside foster homes have appeared diagrams of blocking highways and they were driven not at all by pensioners, but by Limonovtsi and KPRF.»

So National-Bolsheviks Party have gained politcal weight. We are hated by the State and its representatives. But they also start talking to us. The leader of Saint-Petersburgs Regional NBP organisation Andrei Dmitriev was among few delegates sended by 15 thousand strong crowd to Smolni for negotations with Governer Matvienko.

Matvienko have promised to Dmitriev to prepare adress to Putin, asking for revision of sentence of National-Bolsheviks, who have seized Zurabov's office on August 2, as well as accusations of our forty «decembrists», who demanded Putin to resign. Personally, I don't beleive in Matvienko's promises made on January 17. Few days later some of participants at Saint-Petersburg's protests were detained. But undeniable fact is that after we joined our forces with pencioners, with people then haughty, arrogant power started to talk to us. At Kaluga NBP leader have spoken to vice-governer, was invated to talk.

However, Putin's servants didn't stop to work against National-Bolshewiks. On December 21 our office on Maria Ulianova was invaded by team of investigators: they worked all day and have seized Party documents. Moscow's Department of Property pushed by FSB have breaked off contract of rent of our office. Arbitration Court will prononce its decision in the end of January. It will be a miracle if Court will take our side in conflict. If demanded to leave office, we will look for another Place.

And State is stubbornly preparing «Process of Forty.» According to our Lawyers, cheaf-investigator Mr.ALimov have received order to finish investigation until the end of January. As article 278 is State crime, it will be judged by jury. Alimov, seems very happy with jury. Will they place 12 FSB-oficers as members of jury? Anyway, imagine forty accused, nine girls among them, forty lawyers, twelve members of jury, hundred twenty militia-men guarding accused, because regulations require three guards for one prisoner. Add to them juge himself, his helpers, and you will have on opera kind of Boris Godunov at Bolshoi Theatre. It will be such a shame, such disgrace. We are looking forward to it.

No, Putin is not Kutchma. He will give orders to fire at peaceful crowds. At them, wearing orange or limon colors, he will give orders to fire, as at Dubrovka, as at Beslan. Our task is to make such a climate in Russia that his orders will be met with disobedience.

#1(206), January 27 — February 10, 2005

My fighters club NBP

Shortly before I was arrested, in March 2001, when visiting city of Briansk, I was given as a present few videos. Amongst them [I discovered that in Moscow] was video-version of Fight Club. Naturally it was a gift of National-Bolsheviks Party member. [And also naturally, that very party member later have turned against Party. I mean it is natural that fanatical lover of Fight Club happen to be also a party traitor. I think that that kind of movie should attract and is attracting all sorts of unstable persons.] But anyway, when I first saw the movie in Moscow in March 2001, I was ignorant about future. I liked Fight Club, although I never was a clerk or avid consumer of consumer society, I always was a rebel.

I also liked that rebillion in Fight Club was non-ideological, was pure from idiology. It was rebellion of servants. And I remember well my experience as a house-keeper of multi-millionaire in New York in 1979–1980. It was experience of humiliation, experience of servant. In the end of working day my feet were sore. In those days I remember, I wrote a script called «The Broadcast of New York City Radio» — acutally it was a plot of American Revolution. Revolution was fulfilled by the Blacks, Puerto-Ricans, by New York city International proletarians, and by me, of course. When moving to France in 1980 I left my belongings at Six Sutton Square in the basement. During the years from time to time I suddenly remembered my papers abandoned in the basement of multi-millionaire house, and I regreted them. When later house at Six Sutton Square was sold by Peter Sprague to some other multi-millionaire, one of my friends have picked up my papers. So to be short, I beleived that all my papers were lost. But, to my surprise, when I was out of prison, Professor A. Rogachevskii from England have sended me a copy of my blood-thirsty text: «The Broadcast of New York City Radio» or rather «New York City Radio-Broadcast.» Oh, that is a piece of Art, that text! I will let myself only a few quotations. «Young, affected clear voice — I am Vong. In that moment I am staying on the deck of the Coast Guard boat, together with others revolutionary journalists. The Greatest moment in the History of the World is close. In the few minutes will be blowed up the Statue of Liberty — that disgrace, that odious symbol of bourgeois world, and its fragments will forever sink into the ocean.

«For about one hundred years statue were standing here. It was proposal of revolutionary artist and thinker Bakhchanian to put into fondation of Statue and in it hollow belly about few tons of explosives.

«Honor to turn a blowing device is awarded to freshly liberated from prison, one of the precursers of Great Revolution, one of its prophets — Charles Manson.

«I see him here on the deck of the boat. I see him very close. He is aged man, but anyway he has all that unfatiguable shine of distraction in his eyes. He is reserved, but that because he spended so many years in prison. Prison have instructed him to be silent. Reverence and open admiration are on the faces of young revolutionaries, their bodies are covered with weapons. They are passed with battles through half of United States. Six Army has behind its shoulders the strom of Chicago and bloody battle near Saint-Louis…» So, more than quarter of a century ago I wrote that terrible revengful texte, many years before Chac Polanek's book and movie. As to artist Bakhchanian — he was in the end of 70th — my closest friend in New York.

I cannot refuse myself a pleasure of another quotation. I will chose most innocent one: «Rebellious West-Side is welcoming its liberators. As we already have informed you, even before of arrival of avangard regiments of Revolutionary Army in New York, three days before it, opressed minorities of West-Side and of Harlem have revolted. Drived in those reservations the blacks and colored minorities always were here the sources of unsatisifaction, of fermentation and revolutionary spirits.

«Often going by the wrong way of racial clashes, today they gave to Revolutionary Army majority of it conscious and implacable fighters with an old world and its civilization.

«Three days ago those people have created regiments of self-defense, when waiting for Revolutionary Army. They didn't have much weapons, but they have made quite a few successful raids through Central Park into East-Side, to the horror of reach proprietors of apartments on the Fifth Avenue.

«Now those blacks and colored brothers have pured on the streets. They are exulted. Children, women, all from the very small to the old are greeting the liberators. The orchestras are playing, you can hear the gun-shooting, that salutation to Revolution. Everybody wears holidays clothes…»

So, sorry Mark [Ames], you asked me to write about my favorite movie, and me, incorrigible, have anyway wrote about Revolution. And I have used my column once and again for a self-promotion. I am very sorry. But I like Fight Club, it is my favorite movie. And I also wrote probably in 1978 (around that date) horrible undemocratical text, something like Red equivalent of Turner's Dairies. And it was, what can I do. Also as a protagonist of Fighters Club I have created National-Bolsheviks Party — my fighters club. [You remember Mark, how I have created it? You should remember also, as nobody in that time have believed that my project, my fighters club, National-Bolsheviks Party have any future. You remember?] Now you see Mark, my Fighters Club-NBP have a forty-nine camarades in prsions, the most prominent members or Putin's goverment have named NBP [my fighters Club] as an awful menace to them. So my project proved to be a Great one. That is why I name «The Fight Club» as my favorite movie.

#2(207), February 11–24, 2005

The war in the Orchard

Beautiful lands of vineyards and orchards look more beautiful in war times. That I have discovered in many places: at the Balkans, during Serbian wars, then later in Abkhazia and Transdnestrie. As a matter of fact the lands of vineyards and orchards are in itselfs the very reasons for wars. Because some people want to get it, and some want to keep it. Rich, picturesque, good looking lands, mountains or otherwise located near the mighty blue rivers are hard to leave in enemy hands, so people fight. Serbs, Croats, Muslims, Abkhazes, Moldavians, Russians, Ukrainians, fight each other for vineyards and orchards. I never met one person fighting for Moscow's flatness.

Apricot orchards lay under the autumn sun on both sides of the road from Grigoriupol. Road goes near Dniestr in direction to Dubossarskaia hydro-electrical station. For dozens of kilometers we are observing vast apricot harvest lying on the ground. Because of the war nobody bothered to pick up apricots. Trenches of Transdnestrians are on the left side of the road, in shadows of first line of apricots trees, and trenches of «Rumanians,» as they call army of Moldova, somewhere inside of masses of apricot trees. Odor of rotten apricots, sweet and bitter, odor of putrefaction of thousands of tonnes of apricots made on us impression to be at tropical lands.

«Jesus, it was long time ago, in 1992.»

Trenches were populated by Cossacks volunteers. There was no fighting in that day, I remember some Cossacks were asleep, lying on the blankets in shadows of apricot trees, their Kalashnikovs near them, at hand's length.

There was no fighting in that day on the road from Grigoriupol, because at previous night two «Rumanians» have crawled to Transdnestrians' trenches, carrying with them two huge canisters full of good wine. They asked for armistice on behalf of their battalion commander. Commander asked for two days' armistice, so he can have his wedding. Cossacks' commander tasted wine and after that have agreed on armistice. «Rumanians have crawled back into night. You can listen to wedding orchestra, if you walk some metres into orchard,» said Cossacks' commander — «Esaul» Kolontaev.

However, after armistice have ended in two days Cossacks crawled at night to «Rumanians» trenches and dug out some antipersonnel mines protecting «Rumanians» trenches from Cossacks. Then Cossacks have dig them in, but in other places, in particular near Rumanian toilet booth.

«Why did you do such dangerous operation?» asked I.

Kolontaev smiled, «Yes, sure it is dangerous, that type of mine normally considered not removable, but we know the trick, and anyway, what kind of Cossacks we are, if we not doing all sorts of trickery?»

Cossacks' trickery have caused an explosion. One dead. Everybody were happy with their Cossacks' trick until the next morning, when young Cossack from Kuban region was shot by the sniper. It was obvious that «Rumanians» have paid back to Cossacks for their night expedition. And «Rumanians» didn't have an intention to stop. One of the trenches was fired at during that very same day, when young Cossack was shot dead. Kolontaev told me that «Rumanians» have invited Baltic-girl sniper, so-called «white stocking,» and she will hunt Cossacks out of hate for Russians, and specially for Cossacks. Kolontaev ordered his men to be careful, be aware of white stocking in vicinity somewhere in apricot orchard.

I was skeptical about «white stocking.» Week before I was participating in hunt for white stocking in town called Benderi. We have received an information that bleeding white-stocking have hidden herself in huge basement used previously as a wine cellar. Dozen of Transdnestrian fighters and me, we carefully invaded that basement. It was some blood drops, yes, we also found one red women shoe in one of the cellars compartments, near dirty mattress, but no Baltic-girl. Some of Transdnestrians voiced opinion that white-stocking was wounded and have rested for some time in that cellar. One young fellow expressed opinion that local girls and boys used that cellar for sexual pleasures, shoe may be forgotten by some drunken girl and blood drops could be just you know, menstruation blood… But nobody wanted to believe that simple version. People always like an attractive legends, they don't like vulgar truths. So senior of our group have reported to headquarters that white-stocking have escaped before our arrival, that presumably she was prevented of danger by some local «narodni front» hidden supporter.

Next day Kolontaev's men have fired dozens mortar shells on Rumanian positions. Rumanians suffered some causalities. They answered to Cossacks by firing their mortar shells on Cossack's position, but at night they have send their man to talk to Kolontaev. «Rumanian» said that sniper is not white-stocking, that he is a bearded man over forty. That he doesn't belong to their battalion, that he works independently. That sniper comes to nearest village everyday by bus, then he takes bicycle, rides bicycle to a front line. He is choosing his positions by himself. Sniper is not subordinated to commander of their battalion, but to military commander of the region. He is former champion in sharp-shooting,— that sniper. He doesn't converse with other soldiers. As a matter of fact he is source of disaster for their battalion. They hate his guts, because after his sniping hunt on Cossacks, Cossacks answer in mortar shelling have killed three man in battalion. Commander of Rumanian battalion have suggestion to made. We will indicate to you Cossacks,— sniper whereabouts, and you, Cossacks, will cease to go to our trenches at nights and dig out our mines.

Kolontaev thought very little. He promised to stop dirty tricks with mines. «No diggings of mines anymore,» promised Kolontaev, «and you give us that fucking sniper be his mother fucked.» They had agreed on plan concerning sniper and «Rumanian» left guarded by two Transdnestrians, they walk him to the front line.

Kolontaev hoped to capture sniper alive, but it happen otherwise. Bearded man in civilian clothes died of bullet wounds. Dead, he looked as a tourist, unoffensive, rather heavy build, wearing checked short and dark trousers. He even didn't look as a hunter, rather mushroom collector. I saw him. As mushroom collector, yes, expect his beautiful champions rifle.

Cossacks were disappointed that sniper proved to be not a white stocking. They looked rather unhappy. May be they dreamed to rape their enemy white-stocking, Baltic girl. Who knows, Cossacks are mysterious tribe.

#3(208), February 25 — March 10, 2005

About money

Almost a million of inhabitants in Russian prisons are money-lovers. 99% of motion-pictures made in Hollywood are about struggle for money. Profession of an American millionaire is about activities to gain and to collect money.

Only landscapes: mountains, steppes, only them are not about money. But the wind is about money, because one can build a wind-mill, to became miller and made money by grinding grain. The sun is also about money, because you may build a sun-batteries. The river is also about money just enough to build a hydro-electrical station and you can sell energy to everybody asking for it.

The small birds are not about money. Who is going to buy a dozen of sparrows? But big birds oh, you can sell ostrich eggs and meat for some dollars.

After some reflection I must correct myself; even lanscapes are about money: you can buy them cheap from Indians, to build Disneyland or Las Vegas and earn astronomical sums of dollars.

Love can be bought for money: small love for small money, big love for big money. I mean you can buy process of making love, but of course you cannot buy a feeling of loving you inside of your partner. Feeling of loving depends on your physical strenth, hardness of your dick, in short from some qualities, that you can or cannot have inherited from your parents. Such injustice of nature is very disappointing for American millionaires and for New Russians, but is source of deep feeling of happiness for proletarians. Because workers and peasants usually have big dicks and steel ones. Unfortunately liqueur costs very little: three or four dollars only, so proletarians are buying liqueur instead of making love.

For money you can buy a weapons. As a matter of fact I was convicted to four in prison for allegedly organising buying of weapons: six Kalashikovs and about kilogram of explosives. I am denying of buying weapons. But nevertheless one who wants to buy them, say for purpose only to look at them from time to time, may buy them. Weapons can give you a sense of security. Also they are usually beautiful, the weapons, all those «Smith and Wessons,» «Kalashinikovs» and «Brownings».

American dollars have a colour of green corn fields, or of green fields of Virginian tobacco; people of whole world finding them dollars beautiful, very attractive, indeed. New European euros are too thick, they are like handkerchiefs square. I regret good old French francs and German marks. Francs were old pleasant banknotes, wrinkled and distinguished banknotes of old Nation of Louis XIV, musquetirs, Napoleon, of Verden battle. Especially I liked five hundred francs banknotes, one was enough for a dinner of two at restorant «La Coupole».

When I was a boy, I dreamed sometimes about career of forger. But I made only one step on that dangerous road — I imitated fradulently a stamp. Then I was seduced by literature.

Literature is the worst possible means of earning money. No doubt about that. The publisher is not worst enemy of a writer. Publisher is second worst enemy of a writer. (His first worst enemy is his wife.) Usualy publisher ripping-off writer by cheating him over sells. Publisher will convince a writer: «You book is not sells as well as we hoped.» Russian publishers are champions of fraud. They practice frequent reprint of the book without writers knowledge. Publisher pays typography in cash, and typography will print some more thousands of book. The trick is simple but effective.

The proverb says «Money has no odor.» Proverb is wrong. Money have stinking odor. In the middle of the 90's I used to go to distribution agency «Logos-M» located on Tsvetnoi Boulevard, to get money due to me for distribution of my newspaper «Limonka». In that time all operations were done in cash. Cashier of «Logos-M» have occupaed a small room with few safes, a table and only two chairs. The window was usually open. But despite open window room was full of heavy greasy odor. At first I didn't get the source of odor: «What that smell is about?» I have asked cashier Liuba. «Money» said Liuba. «Stinking horribly, till the evening I have a headache. You know, we are collecting money from all sorts of people. Usually they are small banknotes, small people pay for newspapers. The merchants at markets, their hands stained with grease, blood, fish, the drivers hands washed in gasoline, housewives cooking and washing dishes…» Liuba gave me detailed discours on hands of different professionals stained with some sortes of odors.

Until 1998 I carried my money in plastic bag, then after default Russian money were devaluated. Then «Logos-M» ceased to distribute our «extremist» newspaper, out of fear of government.

When I dream about very end of my life I imagine such picture. Somewhere in heart of Asia (Samarkand, Bukhara or Kabul) near mosque I am seating wearing black Asian robe, black turban on my head. Asian sky above. I am seating on small old carpet. My feet are bare. Old Asian greenish banknotes and some coins are on my carpet. Edward Limonov the beggar of Samarkand, 90 years old, ominous, from time to time he starts to count his money. Old greenish «somi» of Tadjikistan, and coins, some of them from the time of Aleskander The Great with his profile on it.

#4(209), March 11–24, 2005

March 29th

Moscow City Court Drama

Putins group is using against us only a stick, a club, if to be exact. No carrot whatsoever. On March 29th seven National-Bolsheviks Party members were listening to new verdict in glass cage of court room number 308. That glass cage is an object of proud of Moscow City Court. They feel that glass cage is more humane then cage with iron bars, made of iron bars I mean.

As to me, former prisoner myself the iron bars cage is preferable. The fresh court air could circulate freely. Also your lawyer can smuggle you some letter or message through the iron bars. In a glass cage prisoners have a look of poor fish inside of acvarium. You dont hear what they are saying, prisoners, unless they speak into microphone, and that microphone you know, can be easely switch out by a judge. That court room have also strange speciality: it is serving as corridor for other groups of prisoners to be judged. They have traversed room 308 three times, coming from one door to another one, heading to the steercase, descending to the basement cages for prisoners, arrived for a trials from their prisons. So it was like seating in the middle of traffic jam. When police have given to architect a task to make a plan of Moscow City Court they, I am sure to have forgotten about prisoners to be judged in that building. That is why Court corridors are wide, its toilets are huge and white, the doors are beautiful with some bronze knobs, made of oak I suppose those doors, but special corridors for prisoners to go in and out were not foreseen. But anyway, around 13:00 everybody were at their places in court room number 308: our comrades in glass cage, judge, and his fellows — two more judges — at their podium, our seven lawyers, blue-uniformed woman persecutor, relatives of imprisoned National-Bolsheviks, me, and about dozen of party members. Rest of our crowd were left behind the court room doors.

Chef Judge Vladimir Nikitin opened session. Our lawyers have said that they consider process at Tverskoi court a political one, and have accused Tverskoi court judge Elena Stashina of to be engaged on the side of the accusors. Our lawyers said that even the fact that the punishement inflicted by Tverskoi Court was equal for each of National-Bolsheviks: five years of inprisonement, while each of them «participated in occupation of Ministry of Health with different degree of activity was in itself a proof of unjustice.» Lawyer Elena Kiltchitchakova said: «convicted National-Bolsheviks have protested agains the law of «monetization» of priviliges, on August 2, 2004. But in January 2005 simular actions of protest been held in 74 of 89 regions of Russia. As a matter of fact all Russia have rised in solidartiy with those seven boys. But they are accused, anyway, of disrespect of society.»

Then seven National-Bolsheviks have prononced their «last words.» The eldest, Maxim Gromov, 31, said that he «doesnt expect of justice from this false State.» Grigori Tishin, 18 have said that «Femida have taking bondage off her eyes. I dont count on her Justice.» Sergei Ejov, 19 said about Putins portrait throwed out of the window of Ministry of Health: «Yes, we have offended, profaned Putins portrait, but he profaned whole country.»

Blue-uniformed Elena Grigorova have stated that anyway persecutors opinion have not changed: «On August 2, 2004, National Bolsheviks were motivated by their desire to demonstrate their disrespect towards Society.»

After that exchange of opinions judge announced break-time. We all have left court room number 308. I knew from diverse sources that punishment will be reduced, because Russian State (Putins Group) finally understood that severe punishment of «seven of MinZdrav» is damaging State image. Half a dozen of State «chinovniks» have expressed in public and in private that punishment will be reduced. To what level it will be reduced, was only question what I have asked myself, when I waited in corridor of Moscow City Court. I was cool, as can be cool man, who have listened to State persecutor demanding for him in sum 25 years in prison, and eventually 14 years «by the way of partial addition.» So I was cool.

But not the relatives of boys, the mothers and few fathers. They werent cool, poor relatives. Journalist from «Kommersant» Oleg Kashin was talking to our lawyer Dmitri Agranovski. Journalist of «Vesti» Rushev was engaged in discussion with lawyer Sirogidinov. My bodyguards were looking around for troublemakers. Actually bodyguards are serving only against hoods, Hodorkovski was arrested inside of his private plane protected by few dozens of bodyguards. It is ridiculous, thought I, when waiting that destiny of my party members will be ready to annonce. That their destiny have been decided on advance behind Kremlin walls I had no doubt.

When break was over, all the crowd including television crews accomodated itself inside. Despite protests of militia nobody left. Then chief judge Nikitin started to read courts verdict. The youngest Grigori Tishin, Sergei Ejov and Anatoli Globa-Mikhailenko have received two and half years in camp each. Gromov, Bespalov, Korshunski and Klionov were also have reduced their sentences down to three years, each. Cheif judge have satisfied and proud look. Kremlin demonstrated its fucking generosity. Some relatives have now happier look. I wasnt happy at all.

Because I know that seven National-Bolsheviks have commited no crime on August 2nd 2004. They expressed their protest against absolutist, archaical, medivial in its essence governing of Russia by Putins group. Brave new generation of free spirited young men, they are drastically different from the rest of Russian population, from their mothers and fathers, from medivial militia men, from blue-uniformed prosecutors, from all that scum of the past. Reduced sentences arent what we are demanding. We are demanding that people of the past will leave. That Putin and his medieval commandos will resign on the spot. That Parliament, servile to Putin will be dissolved. That new free elections will be held. That what we want. We want no less.

Meanwhile, our lawyers will appeal to presidium of Moscow City Court. Presidium will refuse to farther reducing sentences. Then our lawyers will appeal to Court Supreme. The possibility of decision of reduction of sentence by Court Supreme exists, but very slight one. Then Party will appeal to European Court in Strasbourg. In order to publicize out cause.

#6(211), April 8–21, 2005

Germany, my Germany

I started this text on April 19th, having in mind to write about Germany. That fucking Germany I heard about from the tender age about 2,5 or three years old. That fucking country of Goethe, Schiller, Vagner and Hitler.

Then my telephone ringed. National-Bolshevik M. have called from Butirskaia prison. He said that hunger strike that have started yesterday lunched at first by seven National-Bolsheviks at Butirka; was under menace. That special militia forces: OMON, operating in prisons, have arrived at Butirskaia prison and have applied pressure on the heads of prison's criminal underworld. Those guys in their turn are pressing National-Bolsheviks in order to force them to stop hunger strike. Jesus! That is last thing what we been in need, thought I. Goodbye Germany, anyway. I wanted to say that I am not forgiving them for killing my relatives and devastating my country. But for now they should wait, Germans.

Meanwhile, hunger strike that started on April 18 have spread through Butirka and other prisons. In Butirka seventeen National-Bolsheviks were on hunger strike: seven already sentenced for peaceful occupation of Ministry of Health on August 2, 2004 and another ten from those who have invaded Administration of President on December 14, 2004. National-Bolsheviks imprisoned in others prisons: at Presnia (No.3), as well as at Prison No.5 on Viborgskaia Street, and at women's prison No.6, also have joined hunger strike. What they will do, those couragous heroes? The situation is not easy one, as repressions by special militia forces will punish all prison inmates, in order to stop National-Bolsheviks strike. Speical militia forces will get into Butirka and they will beat up all inmates in order to turn them against National-Bolsheviks. Germany, oh Germnay far away, at distance of space and time, but how will end that conflict?

I have on my table a letter of one National-Bolshevik Sergei Ejov, addressed to President Putin, to the Government of the Russian Federation, to the Deputies of State Duma, etc. I will translate it from Russian:

«I, Ejov Sergei Aleksandrovich, born 1985, member of National-Bolsheviks Party, in connection with politic of governing power which can be characterized as repressive towars its own citizens. I declare non time-limited hunger strike. My demands are such:

«1) Observance of Constitution of Russia and observance of human rights on territory of Russian Federation.

«2) Closure of death camp 'White Swan' near city of Solikamsk, as well as few simular to «White Swan» camps, where citizens of Russia thinking differently than government, are tortured.

«3) Stop to repressions on political grounds. Interdiction for such organisations as Ministry of Interior (MVP), and State Security Agency (FSB) to intervene in politics.

«4) To give a status of political prisoners to National-Bolsheviks prisoners, participants of such actions as peaceful occupation of Ministry of Health (02.08.2004) and of President's Administration (14.12.2004).

«5) Wide Amnesty, because prisons of Russia are owercrowded.

«I have no claims to Administration of Butirskaya prison.

«Hunger strike or refuse to take food I am starting on 00:00, April 18, 2005. I inform you, that I have some chronical diseases. In that very moment I am held at CISO 77/2, Administration of Realization of Punishments, Moscow. 18.04.2005. Ejov S.A. Signature.»

As those events were taking place, I called to Mr.Agranovsky, lawyer, for advice. He happened to be in that moment inside the building of President's Administration on Iliinka Street, 23. Together with parents of National-Bolsheviks have been arrested at that very place on December 14, 2004, for a crime to demand publicly the President's resignation. Mr.Agranovksy said that Authorities don't want to talk to parents. The parents of National-Bolsheviks are calling their action «Occupation-2,» they wish by their action to put a pressure on government, but governments officials are not present. Parents refuse to leave, so far place is crowded, noisy and tense. On the phone I was able to hear parents screams and yells. We have decided that Agranovsky will go to State Duma and will try to convince the deputies from «Rodina» and Communists to help National-Bolsheviks at least those, who are imprisoned at Butirka.

So, for a moment Germany is out of my schedule. Maybe later. For now I am calling and receiving calls from various people involved. Sometimes I am thinking that Russia could be prosepous and rich country if not that fucking German invasion. They bombed our cities into stone age. I remember ruins of Kharkov's Rail Road Station in face from a miraculously saved three story building where we lived after the war. Actually those were not ruins, but a sea of stones. Fucking Germans, and Fuking OMON of Administration of Realization of Punishments! Fucking stingy human haters from Russian Government!

It's raining in Moscow. I know, some foreigners think Moscow is exciting place to live. Yes, the concentration of thrill and horror per square meter is higher here then anywhere. Prison population of Moscow is about 80 thousand. Imagine that prisoners' city inside of Moscow: its dirty walls, pale skins of its inhibitants, sick eyes, wrinkled faces, and horrible odou of detention and dirt. Fucking Germans and Fucking Russians. Fucking prisons. After I lived in prisoners' land my 2,5 years I hate prison guards and dogs, and FSB officers, and FSB investigators… Those are my thoughts, when I am waiting for the news from Moscow prisons: No.2 (Butirka), No.3 (Priesnia), No.5 (for underaged) and No.6 (for women).

#7(212), April 22 — May 5, 2005

Notes on everyday life of russian radical political reader

Mark Ames asked me to write something humorous. I said «Yes,» then later I have discovered that I am humorless type. That I am dogmatical, fanatical and crazy. I cannot smile actually, I can laugh dramatical laughing. So, I better to be myself. I will write about my problems. Again.

I have Forty-six members of my party imprisoned. Nine of them are girls. Seven of them underaged persons.

I have Forty-sex by two, or ninety-two parents of imprisoned, to deal with. Most of them understand that Putin's group is responsible for keeping their children inside prison walls, but few parents anyway are blaming me for the fate of their children. It is hard to bear.

I have seven persons on hunger strike at party headquarters at Maria Ulianova, 17. They are demanding from Putin's government to release our prisoners. They also demand to recognize our 46 inmates to be political prizoners. Four of them are on hunger strike from May 1st. They are starting to show the signs of weariness. Media's exposure of hunger strike is very low.

I have also a problem with Party headquarters. By the decision of Court of Arbitrage on April 14, Party was ordered to move out from premices on Maria Ulianova, 17. We actually occuping that huge basement illigally. Hunger-strikers could be thrown away every minute, if autorities will demand Moscow police to execute order.

Moscow's Region Court have resumed procedures of liquidation of Co-regional Social organization National-Bolsheviks Party. Soon or later Party will be liquidated. It will change nothing, of course, NBP will do what we do now, but all our gatherings will be dispersed, and our offices will be closed. Court decision will put us at situation of outlaws.

Few days ago at Novosibirsk, three National-Bolsheviks were arrested. They are changed of Articles 205 (terrorism, up to life in prison) and 222 (arms and munitions, posession, up to eight years). Needless to say, that FSB provocation brought that arrest. One National-Bolshevik is arrested in Obninsk, town of Moscow region.

Movement «Nashi,» organized by Kremlin, have published brochure: «Unusual fashism», where I am principal hero. Luckily, I am in one group of oppositional politicians with such persons as Khakamada, Rigkov, Rogosin, Kasparov and Zuganov. According to that brochure we are maintaining «mutual campagne agains Russia.» Newspaper «Kommersant» have printed photos of sombodies feet standing on my portret, signed «Fascist».

Movement «Nashi» organized by Kremlin's Mr.Surkov have been created with only one goal, to neutralise groving influence of National-Bolsheviks Party on Russian society. I feel like a main target of Kremlin's hate. I cannot say that I have a pleasure to be a main target. Although I am avare that project of National-Bolsheviks Party lanched 10 years ago proved to be extremely successful one. Actually the best in entire country, if Kremlin is spending three hundred million dollars for creation of movement «Nashi» to neutralize NBP. I can call myself «Mister, worth of 300 million.» Not bad for a boy from outskirts of Kharkov. Actually I am more known then Leon Tolstoi or even Lenin during their lifes. That what I am thinking.

On May 8th, high runking Moscow militia oficer called and asked me about immediat meeting. As I was going with my woman and her children to Zoo, I met militia colonel in front of Moscow Zoo. I was peaceful looking middle-aged man going to Zoo with beautiful his woman and his children, all of them girls. VIP militioner have given me a personal letter from a head of all Moscow militia General Pronin V.V. Mr.Pronin said in his letter that militia have an information that on May 9th, extremist youths have plan to create mass disorders. Then general Pronin said «I want you to know, that above mentioned outlaw actions planned, irrevocably have been tied up with your name, to the point that youngsters fascinated with the ideas of National-Bolshevism could participate into probable extremist actions.» I signed on the back of that unusual document my name with a note that I was familiarised with letter.

Then I went to Zoo and had a good time. I bought for my woman and her children and for myself tee-shorts with our beloved animals. Three wolfs, one horse and owls. Because my beloved woman family name is Volkova (of Wolf) we got on teeshorts those wolfs. Then I drunk beer with my woman. To three girls I gave some money so they been entertaining themselves on divers Amusement mashines, available in Zoo. Then it was rain. We have taken refuge under the roof of some snackbar. Some people have recognised me and wanted to be photographed with me, they also asked for autographs. It was a good day.

The night was even better. We made love with Katia Volkova until the sunrise. Then I drunk some coffee. Then Katia left from the secret apartment where we meet. At about 9:30 my body-guards have arrived, four of them. Half-way from Belorusskaia ploschad, we were joined by other ten, or so body-guards. Moscow was stuffed with thousands of militiamen. Kremlin's paranoia never been so high as on May 9. As we were passing countless troups, tracks, militia dog's and horses, I thought about Katia.

Those were problems and events of everyday life of Russian Radical political leader. Those are my problems.

#9(214), May 20 — June 2, 2005

Party style

In 1994 I have founded National-Bolsheviks party. I was so sick of conventional politics that I have decided to create some entirely new idiology based on style. Much later I have declared that National-Bolsheviks were in existence before National-Bolsheviks Party was created. Yes, when in 1994 somebody asked Egor Letov, Russian punk idol, why he is so poorly dressed, I was present in that moment. Letov answered that he is wearing clothes which his admirers normally wear. «And they are poor people, you know,» explained Letov. «That why I wear cheap baskets, he pointed at his sneakers.»

Taking example from Letov we have recommended to our followers in few first issues of «Limonka» to wear black jeans, black footwear, to cut their hair short. That was precisely those clothes that poor moscovits youngsters were sporting in those days, and now. So our party style was an imitation of street style. In that very sense it is true that National-Bolsheviks were valking streets of Russian cities before National-Bolsheviks Party was created. Black is very practical colour, stains and dirt are less visible on black clothes. Later some vise journalists wanted to tie our black clothes to fascist black shorts. I always pointed out that poor moscovites youngsters are dressing up in black. And short hear is practical, it doesn't require much care.

In the first days of June 1994 first National Bolsheviks we were busy with impossible task: to find a suitable flag for our new born Party. Because of coming conference of Radical opposition Parties appointed for June 10, we were in the hurry. We were in need of aggressive, vivid, rich in colors symbolic flag. Finally we have choosen as a flag a blurb jacket of my book «Disappearance of Barbarians» published in 1992. Back cover (of blurb jacket) was red with a white circle in the middle of the red and with a hammer and sickle inside of white circle. Designer of the book was Dmitri Kedrin. So he is a father of our flag. On June 10 we presented new handmade flag: size of 2 on 4 metres. From that time on our flag is irritating, getting on the nerves, provoking Russian society as red cloth is provoking for the bull.

We also have invented a special style of our manifestations. Normally Russian manifestations were rather dull, grimy Soviet style silent processions, resembling a funeral processions. The very best would be held with soviet songs played by old tape-recorder. National-Bolsheviks refused dull tradition. We started to shout out some outrages slogans, rhythmically articulated. «Capitalism is shit!», «We hate the government!», «Eat the rich!» — those were our slogans, so called «Krichalki» (from the verb «to shout» — krichat in Russian). Step by step our style was so aggressive and so scandalous, so attractive that was borrowed by other political organizations. But of course no one learned to use «krichalki» as we use them. Because energy and vivacity of our young party were reflected by them. Very often «krichalki» were born in the middle of manifestation, directly on the Street. On February 2000 we were walking streets of Moscow with two huge banners: «Putin, we didn't called for you, go out!», and «OFF with absolutism and crown heir!» Other oppositional parties were looking at us with dismay and even some hate, they were looking at Putin with hopes in 2000.

When 1998 we started to stage direct actions, we also made them with a certain new style. In 1999 fifteen activists of Naitonal-Bolsheviks Party have occupied the tower of Marins Club in Sebastopol that was done under the slogan, «Kuchma you will choke on Sebastopol!» National-Bolsheviks flag vaving above the city of Sebastopol on the height of 36 metres looked astonishingly beautiful, fresh, exciting. Later actions of National-Bolsheviks were more sofisticated, but they were always scandalous, unexpected, vitty and full of energy.

On May 7, 2004, the day of second inauguration of Putin as President, National-Bolsheviks have sized Bolshoi Theater it was terribly spectacular. One group of Party activists have sized the stage in protest against of elections of Putin, but another group have sized president's box seat. Firecrackers, smoke, flags, leaflets, absolutely perplexed spectators:that was quite a show! As a matter of fact, I believe that seizure of Bolshoi Theatre was the best direct action of National-Bolsheviks Party up to date. Also important to know that in that very evening President Putin was expected in Bolshoi. He didn't attended that theater only by chance. Action at Bolshoi Theater on the evening on Inauguration of Putin is less known to the general public only because Kremlin have played it down. They didn't wanted to look like idiots, because the seizure of President's Box in Bolshoi would reveal absolute incompetence of security services of the State.

I am myself good looking bearded middle-age looking man. In the Altai mountains aborigines have called me «Professor», or «Academicians.» I wear black for the same practical reason as do Russian youngsters on the streets of Russian cities. In Russian prisons my cell-mates also called me «Professor» or «Academitians». Probably because I remind them a classical Russian intellectual: you know, beard, mustaches, glasses. However, wearing black jeans, black shorts and everything black: footwear, socks, boots, tie. Only my hair is gray.

#11(216), June 17–30, 2005

Account of NBP activities

The month of June was full of tragical events for National-Bolsheviks Party. On June 17 commando of special police forces have stormed Party headquarters at Maria Ulianova Street. It took them two and half hours to break five metal doors behind which 15 National-Bolsheviks have had barricaded themselves. Four of them have had time to cut their veins, protesting against that brutal eviction by the police.

On June 29, the court of Moscovskaya oblast have prononced decision to LIQUIDATE political organisation of National Bolsheviks so-called MOO NBP, or Inregional Social Organization National Bolsheviks Party. What mesures will be taken by the police and local administrations in order fulfill that liquidation is unclear, because Russia has no previous precedents of liquidation of political party. Maybe will be forbidden by speical court decision the symbols of National Bolsheviks, their red flag with a black hammer and sickle? Maybe also that police forces will be given orders to break all protests and meetings where National Bolsheviks activists will be present? Up to now it is unclear. Regional administrations and regional police forces are awaiting orders from capital. We, National-Bolsheviks have understood liquidation of our Party as interdiction, as a ban. We are understanding that our constitutional rights to expresss our political beliefs by creating political party were violated. We will appeal to Supreme Court in order to overturn decision of Court of Moskovskaya Oblast. Then, if Supreme Court decision will be negative one, we will appeal to European Court of Justice. I also stated in numerous interviews that very day that Party will not obey to liquidation. Public Prosecutor of Moskovskaya Oblast immediately reacted to my statement by threat of criminal case against me.

Party liquidation have had an enormous response from Russian and foreign medias. We counted more then two hundred reports only on that very day of June 29. It is understandable, because previous precedent of a ban of Political Party may be found in Russian History somwhere in the End of twentieth.

Why? Why the Kremlin Administration have forced that liquidation of NBP? In my opinion they commited political crime and they commited mistake. By ban on our activity Kremlin have promoted us. They made us even more popular then we were before.

Next day, the June 30 again was a day of National Bolsheviks Party in whole Russia. Nikulinski Regional Court of Moscow have started a trial of 39 National-Bolsheviks activists, who have seized Reception Office of Presidents Administration on December 14, 2004. Nikulinski court is located on outskirts of Moscow. At first I was confused, why judge Shikhanov, who is judge of Tverskoi district of Moscow will have judging in Nikulinski Court. But when I arrived at location of Nikulinski Court I understood why. The court building is surrounded by solide fence, he is placed outside of the street, it has neighbouring green slope of a hill, populated by trees and bushes. It was obviosly choosen because of its location, as a building which will be easy to defend. Defenders were so numerous, as if cheifs of Al Qaeda were on trial here. Defenders were belonging to: special police, usual policeman, Federal security people wearing civilian clothes. Dogs were barking, policeman speaking at walkie-talkies, special agents were making photos and filming on video, every person who appeared near Court Building. About hundred of National-Bolsheviks were keeped at some distance by policemen. About same number of journalists were occuping green slope of the hill in front of Court building. The parents of prisoners were crowding near the entrance of the fence. One might have had a strong impression that Russia is ruled by paranoiaks. Place had a look of a military camp. Meanwhile, inside of the building more then twenty lawyers, thirty-nine accused boys and girls, and three times that amount of special policemen, armed with machine-guns plus two public prosecutors and judge have started trial. Outsiders: parents of boys and girls, journalists, National-Bolsheviks were not admitted at court room during the first day of trial. Only on July 8 I succeeded in going to court room. There I saw enormous specially built cage, made of steel with a three separate sections, where accused were seating on the benches. Jesus Christe! I never see such a brutal looking court room. When five girls were convoyed to toilets, they were chained by mutual chaine, as an ancient slaves, somewhere on the slave markets of Algiere. So shameful and disgusting was that chaine walking that parents started to scream in paine. Trial will be going on through all summer, I guess.

National-Bolsheviks Party Activity didn't stop with Party liquidation. Last weekend for two days National-Bolsheviks Party Conference was held in Moscow at undisclosed location. About fifty regional leaders of Party were discussing our party problems. We purged Party from antiparty elements, from traitors and provocateurs. Four persons were expelled from Party ranks, regional organisation of Novosibirsk was liquidated and founded again. So, we are working. Number of Party members have risen drastically. We have now 22 thousands of adherents. I am looking forward with a great hope.

#13(218), July 15–28, 2005

I hate school and school teachers

I deeply hated my school. I remember as I walked in early mornings, half-asleep, stepping into muddy grounds of Poperetchnaia Street towards my school Number Eight. We have lived at Saltovski settlement, outskirts of Kharkov, Ukraine. Scrambled eggs stuffed into my stomach in hustle were suffocating me. Red necktie of soviet pioneer, galoshes on my feet, long coat, fur cap on my head, portfolio full of books, I looked as a clown. I hated myself. I thought about going back home, about lying on my divan and having a deep sleep. But it was impossible, because of my mother. She would not let me back in. She wanted me to be educated person.

My school, a four-story red bricked building, was located in the very end of Poperetchnaia Street. To get there I walked past dozens of sleepy looking two or three storey houses, few hostels, housing separately men and women, working at various Kharkov's factories. At women's hostel doors usually were waiting men, friends or lovers, waiting to accompany women to work. It was kind of misterious place: lights of cigarettes, laughs, some muttered works, sometimes quarrels. I felt very attracted by women hostel. I heard from my schoolmates that young women living there were easy going prostitutes. What does it mean, I guessed, to be a prostitute?

I have seen on the street of Saltovski settlement drunken women many times. I guessed that drunken women are prostitutes. Drunken women were: most of them were kind of attractive. They had red lipstick on their lips, they were smiling, staggering on their feet, they were happily talking to men, kissing and hugging with them. From all that knowledge I figured out that women's hostels are full of such women. Boris Khrushko from Sevens-Bi class bragged that he climbed once through the window into women's hostel and slept with two of those young workers — prostitutes. Boris Khrushko was good looking tall sportsman, he was champion swimmer. At his fourteen he already started to shave…I sighed when walking past women hostel.

School fence appeared in dark. November morning was cold. Small rain started to fall. I hastened my steps. Saltovski settlement was short on electrical light. Only a few lampaders, each one near building. Poorly asphalted Saltovski settlement was unwalkable without galoshes. Even wearing galoshes one will arrive at school with extremely dirty feet, Saltovski's mud was famous for it stickiness.

Small figures of my fellows schoolmates were emerging from the dark, sleepy looking, making very little noize dark figures, we were entering the school doors. At school hall we all started to take off our galoshes and shoes and wearing instead slippers. Slippers we have brought with us, special bag was required by school administration for transporting them. Slippers on our feet, galoshes and shoes in bags, we proceeded into cloakroom to relive us of our coats. Only then we headed to class-rooms. Taking our places we immediately fell to sleep with open eyes.

I remember my school days as a struggle with sleep, as struggle with teachers, as a constant struggle with unnecessary knowledge. Knowledge was as morning scrambled eggs which I was stuffed by my mother. Especially I hated mathematics. Mathematical formulas were mental tortures inflicted on me. Algebra, physics as taught by our teachers were violent deformation of my consciousness, our physicist Yakov Lvovitch was responsible for my dislike of physics. Later I found physics are exciting, but I was in my thirties in that time. As to Yakov Lvovitch he was a beast, he would beat up my schoolmates for non learned lessons. He would close the door of his physician office and would beat them up, one by one. He never touched me however, because my father was an army officer.

Schooling is too long. School was invented to break a young men and women, boys and girls, to make them obedient social animals. One day I counted how much of my actual knowledge I have learned in school. Very very little, it have appeared. So little was amount of knowledge learned by me at school that it could be taught in two or three years. But I was kept in that prison of school Number Eight for ten years! They have ripped me off my ten years of life! My parents who forced me to go to school every day, my stinking teachers. Oh yes, they were stinking, not a clene creatures. Our teachers stinked of piss and kitchen. Poor kitchen they stinked of old piss. And also they stinked of dirty teeth. Even now I hate school and hate my teachers. I am happy when I learn myself. I learn only those things that I need to know. When in prison I read with pleasure the works of Lenin and Bakunin. I read history books, and Stephen Hawking's book «A Brief History of Time.»

As to Yakov Lvovitch I hate him even now. When in 1994 I was visiting my family in Kharkov my mother told that Yakov Lvovitch have suddenly called her. He asked her to ask me to help me, to find him some remedy from a rear maladie what he suffers. This remedy is not available in Russia, only abroad that medicine is produced. I said «No, I will not help that sadist. I still remember a blood on the leaps of Victor Proutorov, friend of mine, when he stepped out of Yakov Lvovitch's office in 1958.»

#15(220), August 26 — September 8, 2005

Mr.Putin's hands have blood on it

What happened

On August 29, in the evening, at about 8:06 p.m. the group of thugs, wearing black masks and white gloves have attacked meeting of Moscow regional organization of National-Bolsheviks Party. It was crowd of more than thirty thugs, armed with pneumatical pistols, baseball bats, and «fires,» used by football fanats.

Building near metro «Avtozavodskaia» was guarded by seven National-Bolsheviks, two of them girls. But they stand up bravely against assault. Four NBP activists were wounded: Dmitri Elizarov have both of his arms fractured, Stanislav Diakonov have three fractures on his head, he was also stabbed with knife. Van belonging to NB party was put on fire, its windows were broken. But no invader was let into buildings hall, not speaking about fours floor, were meeting took place. Receiving rebuff assailants fleed towards the bus, No.576 «Moscow-Korolev,» what have deposited them earlier.

By pure chance road-militiamen saw crowd of thugs running towards their bus, and have alarmed patrol car by the way of radio. Milita patrol-car started pursuit. Finally bus No.576 was stopped near Lefortovski tunnel. All passengers started to show some special identity cards, protesting against detention. But detentionw as brief, because new personages have arrived: the general from Moscow Department of Ministry of Internal Affairs with his consorts. General ordered to release thugs. His order was duely executed. But militia-men from patrol-car have had enough time before arrival of general to made a list of thugs. So on August 31 «Kommersant» have published a list of persons detained.

Communist Party of Russian Federation have protested against assult on NBP activists, happened to take place on its territory. Because forth floor of the building where bloody battle have occurred is property of CPRF. Comrade Zuganov send telegramme to Minister of Interior Mr.Nugaliev. Political parties of opposition including «Rodina,» «SPS,» «Yabloko» have released protesting statements. Under such wave of protest on September 1st criminal case was «open» by militia investigators of South Administrative District.

What we know?

We know that amongst detained thugs in the bus «No.576 Moscow-Korolev» were few people already participated in three other mass-assaults on National Bolsheviks (on January 29, February 12 and March 5). We also know that they detained in the bus at least three persons amongst them are leaders of State Created Criminal Organization «Nashi.» Their names were cited by Russian press as such. They also are activists of various fan-clubs of football. Criminal charges were brought against them some months ago, for three previous assaults. But their cases were never brought to court. We hope that now, under great pressure of opposition all four criminal charged will be reunited in one charge against activisits of State Created Criminal Organization «Nashi.»


Television, press, radio reports have stated that assault was directed towards members of leftists organizations, holding their meeting at building near metro «Avtozavodskaia.» It is not accurate information. The gathering was weekly meeting of Moscow NBP organization. Just a few representatives of other political organisation were present. They have intention after the end of NBP meeting to discuss the details of march «Anticapitalism-2005,» planned at middle-September. But those few people were upstairs. It was assault against NBP.

Another details. Assault have started at 8:06 p.m. but at 8 p.m. news programmes of radio stations as well as information agencies have annonced prematurely that mass fight between skeen-heads and some Azerbaidjans is taking place near metro Avtozavodskaia. News agencies claim that false and premature information was spread by the office of Moscow Department of Ministry of Interior. Such fact is the proof that Moscow Department of MBD was knowing that crime will be committed.

My analysis

Assault of August 29 is different then previous three. First of all is visible attempt to do it anonymous (masks, gloves in order to hide faces and digital imprints), while previous assaults were demonstrative (interviews to state television, invited by assailants). The order of thugs were: made it anonymous. Second: firearms were employed for the first time. It is escalation of violence, even if nobody was killed, violence was of such intensity that some newspaper photographs demonstrated the pools of blood. Party van have undergone ferocious attacks, having for goal to arson it. Despite the fact that two Nationa-Bolsheviks were trapped in it assailants have had at first fired at its windows, then throw into van «fires.» So the political project of Mr.Surkov «Nashi» have degenerated into violent punitive organisation of arsonits and killers, into organisation of State fashisme. Created for the purpose to struggle with NBP, «Nashi» obediently do their task. Is Mr.Surkov and Mr.Putin are happy with them?

No, I don't think so. In every country events such as assault of August 29 are qualified as terrible crimes. No exuces can be made for such state ordered violence. Assault of August 29 will be understood by every Russian, by every foreigner as political motivated State crime.

NBP will press Russian justice to punish thugs from Nashi. We have full support of Russian opposition parties. I believe also that we have support of all freedom loving people abroad. Help us to bring down Putin's dictature. In those days, when tragedy of Beslan have been remembered by Russian people I am asking leaders of foreign countries: please have a courage to boycotte bloody Mr.Putin: don't give him a hand: his hands have blood of Beslan's children and those of my camrades, NVP activists.

#16(221), September 9–22, 2005

Savenko and Savendo

Extremely blessed by God are those great men, who have received their great family names by Nature, by birth. Mozart sounds great, and even more impressive when pronounced together with Wolfgang Amadeus. It sounds as symphony in itself: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. It sounds at least as first syllables of symphony.

Nietzsche is also great name appropriate for philosopher of Negation. At least in Russian its sounds like Niet zche, translated as repeated negation: not, categorically not! Some researchers, specialists of Nietzsche biography, have suspicions that Nietzsche's family have Slavic origins. If so, then it is very revealing name: not, categorically not.

Adolf Hitler is also revealing name specially when one knows that until certain time Hitler's family names was that of Schiklgruber. Please, note that probably fatal letter «l» what is present in Adolf's first name, as well as in both family names: Hitler and Schiklgruber. Same «l» is present in Nazis salutation to its fuehrer: Heil Hitler. What does it mean I don't know, but means something, I believe it. May be it is in some connection with a word «Evil»?

I was surprised when I discovered that Dante's real name was Durante. Certainly «Divine Comedy» would be less Divine if it was written and signed by Durante. «Dante» sounds classical, as made of rock, it is in itself belonging to same material as canyon, ravine of hell, Hades, Underworld where Dante descended. Dante descended into Hades, not bad. Very impressive. On the contrary in Russian language «durak» means fool. It is also interesting to know that Russian greatest national poet Alexander Pushkin was killed by French aristocrat Dantes. Almost killed by Dante.

Less fortunate are those people of art who have had employed their imagination to find themselves better names than names given them by their birthright. Some of them went so far as to choose names of opposite sex. Aurore Dupendudevant first woman writer feminist have chosen to become George Sand. Why? Dupendudevan in French means backside of bread, so it is name of appropriate to low classe people. Young and ambitious woman took men's name George, and she actually behaved as man, she wore man's clothes, she took men professions of journalist and that of writer. As to second part of her «nome de plume» (pen name) historians believe that Sand is borrowed from German student who tried to kill king of Prussia.

On the contrary from Aurore Dupendudevant great French writer of 20th century Louis Ferdinand Destouches have named himself after his mother's first name — Celine. Despite women's name Louis Ferdinand Celine is an example of macho masculinity and that of plebian cynicism of his prose. It is widely believed that Celine was a fascist writer, so modern history has a paradox on its hands — a fascist cynical writer, sporting tender woman's name. A reason for laughing.

Russian writers for the most part have avoided of having pen-names. Pushkin, Dostoevski, Tchernichevski, Leon and Alexi Tolstoi, Saltikov-Schedrin, Tchekhov and others are real family names. That phenomenon has its explanation: all those writers were Russian aristocrats, they were proud of their names. While French writers of 19th and that of 20th centuries were plebians. Even Voltaire disliked his small family name Arrua, so he become Voltaire.

Humble me have choosen my «nome de plume» out of despair for my family name Savenko. So from a tender age of 22 I am using «nome de plume» Limonov. That pseudonym was given to me by my literary friends young provincial poets, we were playing literary game, giving to all participants artificial, strange sounding names. Ironically later in life I have discovered that my family name Savenko is produced from first name of Orthodox church Saint Savva. Savva is translated from Hebrew as «wise man.» So, instead of to be wise I am Limonov, of Lime, of Limon. But it is too late to do something about it.

Once when in United States I was brought in court for a minor, very laughable offense, I have urinated near the entrance of New York City subway at deep night. Subway trip was too long so I could not stand anymore: police surprised me at that delicate moment. So, when in court I have listened to voice of black woman an assistant to judge, she was calling us one by one, so we could stand up and appeared before judge, young white man. When black woman have an appeal to certain Edward Savendo, I didn't move. Only her third attempt to summon Savendo before judge was successful, suddenly I understood that Savendo is me. Black woman assistant unconsciously made me latino by changing only one letter in my family name, from law-obedient Ukrainian Savenko I was transferred into law-breakign vicious SAVENDO, descendent of hispanical conquistadores — killers and their Indian victims.

When in prison, having a lot of time I have analyzed every sound of my family name of my first name and that of my patronymic: Edouard Veniaminovich Savenko. Laying on my prison bed I would streap that chaine of letters of consonants leaving only vowels: oua eiaii aeo. I would repeat it endlessly. It sounded to me as shamanism, as mystery: oua eiaii aeo!!! Jesus, I thought, those sounds should mean something. Man born with such a mess of sounds should be destined to something unusual. At least that guy could not perish in prison. So easily. Even if I substituted SAVENKO for Limonov the result in the end was practically the same: oua eiaii ioo. That is my name, leave or take it. That is my substantial, essential I.

#18(223), October 7–20, 2005

Glorious sea, sacred Baikal

I know that Kremlin is populated by bloody bastards, but I was surprised by Khodorkovski and Lebedev's sentences. I thought that both will get some five years each, then they will be out of camps after three years. But eight, no, I didn't expect it?

Then, both businesmen were send to serve their sentences to the place — to such places?

Actually those points on the map are legendary onces. Khodorkovski will serve his sentence near lake Baikal, glorious because of an old song about prisoner, escaped exactly out of that very place: Akatni mountains. That song called «Glorious sea, sacred Baikal,» and it had such expressive lignes:

«For very long time I carried heavy chains,
For very long I suffered at Akatui mountains,
Then my old friend helped me to escape,
I returned to life when sensed freedom.»

When that old song was created, no uranium was exrtract from Akatui mountains. Later in twentieth century, in the 70s, witnesses said that those places becamse infected with uranium dust, because extraction of uranium ore was done not from the mine, but on surface, from an open pit. Khodorkovski will serve his eight years near the town called Krasnokamensk, what is translated into English as Red Stone. Uranium ore has lilac colour, every geologist will confirm that. Lilacis very close to red colour, town of Krasnokamensk got its name after colour of uranium ore. Poor Khodorkovski, Kremlin hate his guts. As to Mister Lebedev he is sended as far as behind Polar circle. I am shocked, I thought that Russian penetentiary system has no camps beyond The Polar Circle. But it has Near Settlement called Harp.

I think that Mr.Putin personally has some unknown mortal grudge against those two: Khodorkovski and Lebedev. May be his secret services have reported to him about conspiracy of two businesmen against him, Putin, personally? Anyhow, no doubt that both Khodorkovski and Lebedev will have a hard time to bear, will have a problem to survive. If they will not be pressured anymore, if Kremlin will be satisfied with the fact that Khodorkovski will breathe an uranium dust for next six years, and Lebedev will suffer of terrible cold and unconvenience of beyond Polar Circle climat, both will arrive in Moscow in the end of Octobre year 2011. Both will be in poor health, of course. But if Kremlin will continue his pressure, on administation of campus, in order to create unbearable conditions of life for both businesmen, both will arrive to Moscow much earlier, in coffins. May be even their relatives will be denied right to receive their remains. I am not exaggerating, not at all. I am thinking about fate of Tchetchens: those of Raduev, Atgeriev and Ismailov. All of them were unprisoned at Lefortovo, when I was unprisoned there. Raduev, Atgeriev and Ismailov were sentenced to prison terms (Raduev to life in prison, Atgeriev to fifteen, Ismailov to ten years), but in espace of eight monthes all three were dead. All were young men actually about 35 each of them. I have no doubt that they were killed. Ismailov was obviously poisoned. He died when transported from prison into camp, in rail-road carriage for prisoners. Raduev and Atgeriev died under unclear circumstances inside of their camps. Alas, Khodorkovski and Lebedcv may be killed in the same way. Kremlin populated by hard-liners, and Russian hard-liner is traditionally a bloody beast. If let alone, both men will leave detailed, well organized lives.

They will get up at 5:45: brigadiers will scream ferociously: «Get up!» They will have few minutes for dressing and for dressing up their beds. They will run to toilets for their needs, and then will have few moments to smoke a sigarette outside of their barracks. Then they will march to drill ground of the camp, where they will do phisical exercises with a crowd of more then 1,5 thousand prisoners under command from broken tape from loudspeakers. Then they will march back to their barracks. They will run into small «eating-room,» where on 15 or 20 at best square metres about two hundred men will make their tea. If lucky they will find some poor prisoner who has no relatives, and no tea, so he will be willing to make for Khodorkovski or Lebedev and for himself a tea. In ten minutes, no matter you have drunk your tea, or you didn't succeeded to make it, loudspeeker will announce that your «otriad» (regiment) is called into dininghall. Regiment will form up in column, five men in one ligne, then column will march to dininghall. If prisoners will march badly, they will be punished by evening excersises on drill ground. After breakfast consisting of «kasha,» the dish of cooked grain or groats, and of bread, regiment will march back into barrack. Then brass-orchestra will announce the time of work. Individuals designed to go to work at industrial zone [usually industrial zone is located over the fence, next to barracks] will form column, five men in one ligne, all that mass of pole men wearing black clothes will go out of camp into industrial zone.

Khodorkovski, if lucky, will, because of his experience as a manager, will become «nariatchik,» somebody who is in charge of organizing work. If lucky. What prisoners do inside of industrial zone? They produce something. They sew clothes, or they working with metal. At colonie No.13 near Saratov, where I served my sentence, prisoners were busy with polishing frames of gaz-counters. Once they produced defective articles, so all of them were beaten up by wardens. They will eat diner at industrial zone. In the evening they will march back into camp. Sometimes they can work even until midnight if «plan» is not fulffilled.

In camp they will march to dininghall for eating another «kasha.» Then the best part of the day comes: evening before going to bed. Eating room will look pleasant and comforting: prisoners will drink their tea with candy. Or they can watch some tv at «red-coin,» room where about fifty seats, table and television are available. Some will smoke their cigarets outside of barrack. At 21:30 everybody are near their beds. At 21:45 brigadiers will scream retreat. Prisoners will jump into their beds.

#20(225), November 4–17, 2005

Truly wonderful years!

A year ago I wrote a poem, concerning nineties. I will translate it from my excellent Russian to my broken English as best, as I can.

The Nineties

I drunked «Rakia»
I have fucked Maria
I had my happiness accented
And commandant me «browning»
Such were years nineties
Were populated by the serbs,
the mighties
Were truly wonderful those years!
Near Saraevo, amongst mountaineers
I was Iovan Tintor best friend
And Tintor wasn't guy with happy end
He was a military chef and he got lost
So president have Tintor fired
from his post
That time I have expressed
by the reportages
With the ecstasies, excesses
and with rages
O, nineties those years!
Maria's red moisty clitoris
And Serbian silent rivers
changing gears…

I hope that clumsy translation will, nevertheless, give to eXile reader some notion of my nineties. For me that decade was decade of adventures, of local wars, of political activities. As I have lived nineties first as a war correspondent for French and Russian newspapers, and later, after 1994 as a radical politician in Russia.

Nineties have started for me in November 1991, when peaceful, drunken Belegrade I have moved by the road in direction of Zagreb, where Serbs fought for the town of Vucovar. 115 kilometers from Belgrade I have catched THE WAR. War 1991 had a look of a war of 1941, as all local wars are archaical. Green, greenish and grey uniforms of soldiers, white freshness of young snow, red blood of wounds. Tired faces of living and peaceful faces of dead. «Tchetniks»-Serbian nationalists wearing beards and leather coats, regiment of paratrooper, wearing red berets: war have an exciting look. And a nasty smell, because dead bodes have smelled at Balkan's climate. I have eaten pea soup with soldiers, have drunk «rakia» with Orthodox priests. Once, badly wanting to piss, have stepped near planted mine called «pashtet» (paste or pate), probably because that mine can make paste of human body. It didn't make paste of my body, because Serbian soldier have pushed me off dangerous place, one of my feet, I remember was almost touching that fucking mine. When in January 1992 I was leaving that war, I crossed «23rd May Bridge,» named so after Iozef Tito's birthday, on Danube River. On the other side of Danube I say hunters, peacefully waking with their dogs and hunting rifles, it was first day of hunting season. Some of the hunters carried dead hares.

In 1992 I went to Bosnian war, have visited fighting Serbian quarters Gerbovica at Saraevo, have slept some nights at frozen hotel room in mountain town of Pale, capital of Bosnian Serbian Republic. My neighbour at hotel was powerful member of government professor Bilana Plavschic, woman about 50 at that time. She had good coffee at her room and kerosin heater. It was great advantage because Pale was cutted of electricity. We have disputed with Miss Plavschic a lot, she was moderation politician. Now she is, nevertheless, serving her eleven years term in European prison at Haag. As well as another Bosnian Serb Kraichnik. At 1992 he was a chairman of Bosnian Serbian parliament. I have also interviewed for myself and for BBC television documentary doctor Radovan Karadzich, then President of Serbian Bosnian Republic. He have recited for me his poetry, we were both standing on the mountain ridge above Saraevo. Now Karadzich is hiding somewhere, despite the fact that he was also moderate politician, arguing with his minister of defense General Radko Mladich. Mladich was a hawk. But ironic of sort, both of them now in hiding, because they are defeated. Bosnian Serbian Republic is dead. Personally, I feel sad about that, because those Serbs from Bosnia were courages brave types, they deserved to have there republic no less that Americans their Independence from English crown. Serbs were defeated by foreign aggression, whole Europe came to fight Serbs. What is not fair.

Then I went to Transnestian Republic. Those guys are still in power. Republic was founded by some Russian policeman, fleeing Baltic states, as well as by local policeman and women organizations. When I have arrived they just repel Moldavien aggression, and they were happy. General Alexander Lebed was installing himself as a new commander of Russian 14th Army in those days. Transnesterians were happy to get such a brave and masculine general. Later they, however, discovered that General Lebed have a bad character and frequent bad moods, but when I arrived in Tiraspol in autumn, it was a honey-moon between Republic and General. I lived some time in detachment of colonel Kostenko, kind of a modern Nestor Makchno he was. Kostenko was killed shortly afterwards under unclear circumstances by Lebed and Transnestrian security forces. What I have discovered in Transnesteria, I was happy. I wandered in town of Benderi in search of legendary white-stockings, allegedly girls-snipers from Baltic states.

Then I went to Abkhazia. I discovered that beaches of Black Sea were deserted to such point that the grass have risen huge and mighty on those beaches, where few years ago human bodies were crowded together. The roads were broken by vegetation, bamboo were erupted in the middle of asphalted road. Pigs were eating young bamboo vegetation on Black Sea major highway. I liked it. Enormously.

At Abkhazia I first saw the regiment of Tchetchen fighters, «Regiment of Shamil» as they were called in those times. Nobody new yet Shamil Basaev, but it was he who formed that regiment and brought them to Abkhazia. For the first time I saw them at block-post near the village called «Low Esheres» (Nizhnie Esheri). They were very clean small boys, wearing black uniforms with green head bands. They were looking so young, so clean, so unoffesive with new, shining weapons, that I thought they have a look of cinema boys, of statists, hired for a movie. But you know now that Shamil Basaev is a serious man.

In 1993 I went to Serbian Republic of Kninskaia Kraina: mountainous republic located on rocking plateau inside of Croatia. It was such a dangerous place to reach and equally dangerous to be that I still wonder: how I managed to stay alive. On my way back I have crossed all Gersegovina and all Bosnia.

In 1994 I decided to move to Moscow, and I have moved. I have founded National Bolshewiks Party, I founded newspaper «Limonka.»

I was arrested not in the nineties, but in first months of 21 century, on April 7, 2001, seven days after Slobodan Miloshevich, who I have visited in his residence in 1992, when going back from Bosnia. Those nineties were wonderful years, indeed.

#22(227), December 2–15, 2005

My moral principles

Novaia Gazeta have recently accused me of going to tusovkas, they think that I have no right to partying, «in time, when his young activists been held in prisons.» That was written as «Editorial Note,» page 11, Novaia Gazeta No.93, issuded on December 12. Later at night, radio station «Echo of Moscow» scrutinized my behaviour on same matter with a help of writer Alexander Kabakov and politician Dmitri Rogozin. Rogozin talked about me correctly, he demonstrated perfect diplomatical style, whereas Kabakov, he is known as Limonov-hater, so it was not surprizing to be supported by Rogozin and ferociously attacked by Kabakov. What is infuriating that liberal Novaia Gazeta and also liberal «Echo» have choosen to attack me, a man with a best personal record amongst leaders of political parties. I am only one who was arrested, was put on trial, was sentenced and eventually been held in diverse prisons and camp for two and a half years. No Russian political leader, liberal or communist have such record. Why to accuse me? What for? Liberals wants me to be in prison 365 days per year? Each year?

When I was inprisoned I didn't demanded others to suffer in same time. I didn't demanded from my young camarades to live asexual, ascetic lifes, I was happy to hear that my party camarades got drunk on my 60th anniversary at Central House of Writers when I was in prison, counting the bricks at prison wall of Saratov's Central Prison. Moreover I was working on party behalf when in prison. I have wrote eight books, smuggled them out of prison, have published them, have earned the money and those money were spend on party needs. So, I supported party even when I was in prison. Everybody at National-Bolsheviks party knows it, my camarades respect me. I respect them, we having no problems of blaming each other, as I believe bolsheviks from Lenin's party have no reclamations to make on Lenin's behaviour. Russian politics are dangerous occupation, so prison should be rather usual event in life of radical Russian politican. I have no sentiments about prison, or to be imprisoned, it is my job, it is job of my party camarades.

By coincidence during the same day, earlier in late morning I have met a man with some speical information for me, coming from FSB sources. I was told that until spring time I will be «nuetralized,» I will be put in prison or: my informer waited for a while, then he pointed his finger at me — Killed? I asked.— Yes, he said, it will be masked as some money problem. That you borrowed money, or some have borrowed money from you: he didn't know exact details.— It might be that they are trying to intimidate me? asked I.— It might, he said. But leadership believe that you personally responsible for intensification of party political activity from the end of 2003, because you were liberated in July 2003.

So I have on one hand an information that secret services will prepare a plot to arrest me, or to kill me, and on another hand I have liberal media which gives me lessons of moral. Those lessons are lessons of only one moral, of strict ascetic l was which are not applied to any other political leader, not to Yavlinsky, not to Zuganov, but only to Limonov. Honestly speaking, I am hurt by approaches of liberal media. It hurts me because of its injustice. First of all I am not party-goer, I barely visit one party per month. Secondly, when I was liberated I felt that I should go to celebrations and exibitions because I mgiht be arrested second time, and who knows will I be able to get out of prison soon.— Look at fate of Abdullah Odjalan, Edward, said I to myself, he is imprisoned for life. Then, when I remember myself counting those fucking bricks in the wall surrounding Saratov Central I feel strong deire to look at beautiful girls for a while, to drink Russain champagne or even French champagne. I don't feel guilty. I feel that I have a right.

That writer Kabakov, he was never inprisonsed, never deprived of anything, he even called my girlfriend Katia as «devka!» That Kabakov, that writer. He was probably drunk, cause he spoke on telephone, it was after midnight. Russian writers over forty felt obligation to attack me in press, because they are jealous of my talent, or ther just have back characters? How do I know, but I know that proverb «that is no prophet for your motherland» should be corrected to proverb: «that is no prophet for your generation.» Youngsters, born in the late seventies and in eighties are on my side. So, the future is mine, because I am liked by the future, by young people.

I am doing rightful things. After spending time in prison I am enjoying pieces of life, while I am active politican and risking my life again and again when fighting antidemocratical, unlawful Putin regime. It was behaviour of Bakunin, of Lenin, such behaviour is common for all revolutionaries of all times.

Liberal medias are hypocrites. In order to give lessons of morality to such a man who I am, they at least should have moral code higher than mine. I don't see among them man with high morality. I am moral authority myself. As a moral authority I want to tell them following:

I am convinced that prisoner, liberated from prison have right and have an obligation to enjoy life. It is amoral to ask him to suffer all the time, even out of solidarity.

Revolutionary radical politician is not a monk, unless he is declaring himself as such.

Radical politician under Putin's military regime might be arrested again or killed, so he should be surrounded by women, wine and beautiful things.

The only measure of morality for radical politician is faithfulness to his cause: the liberation of Russia from dictatorial regime.

To be sad, to look mournful, to live ascetic life when fellow revolutionaries are held in prisons is not required by radical morality. On the contrary they are traits of bourgeious morality. As well as hypocritical point of view thaet party leader is manipulator of fates of party members. He is teacher, commander, an older friend. As commander he is not obliged to die in each battle. He should stay alive in order to gain victory.

Radical politician should smile, be good lover and friend. He should not pay attention to liberals. His morality is morality of warrior not that of screaming woman.

#23(228), December 15–27, 2005

Virgin of Orleans: Jeanne D'arc

Once upon a time in French province of Lotaringe in her native village Domremy have lived French medivial girl called Jeanne d'Arc, because her father have family name Darc. At the age of 13, Jeanne started to hear voices and have the visions: she saw archangel Michael as well as Sainte-Margerite and Saint-Katherine. «Angels are very often show themselves to Christians, but they don't see angels, I saw them» would Jeanne say years latter during her trial at French city of Ruan. Archangel Michael and Sainte-Margerite with Sainte-Katherine have told Jeanne about grief in the kingdom of lilies — in suffering France, occupied by England.

«Daughter of God, you will take heir of King of France to Reims where he will be krowned,» said they. In 1429 the voices have send Jeanne d'Arc to fulfill her mission. [I love that story so much, oh I love it, it is good pure angelic!] Paysant girl, she is leaving her village Domremy. She is wearing men's clothes, her hair is cutted short, she is accompanied by two knights. She goes to Shinon, where the Carl VII is staying, across all the country, occupied by English troops. On February 23 Jeanne was allowed to see Carl. She recognized him immediately, although he was wearing simple clothes. Jeanne goes to him and have pronounced message of my God — you are real heir of France and son of king.» It was necessary message for Carl, because he had secret doubts about legitimacy of his birth. Jeanne d'Arc's virginity was attested by consilium of experienced women and widows, they all certify a fact of her virginity. Then whole bunch of theologists made conclusion that to turn Jeanne down will mean, «to turn down Saint Spirit and a help, sended by God.» [Those medivial French have a sense of beautiful! Eve if, that story have been used by king's party to arouse French national feelings!]

Next we see Jeanne wearing white knight's clothes, on white horse with a white linen banner bearing pictures of Christ and angels with French lilies. In the head of French army Jeanne d'Arc have moved to help besieged Orleans. [It is so spectacular! That 17 years old paysant girl is most dear historical figure to me!]

Arrival of Jeanne d'Arc have aroused hysteria and enthusiasm amongst French troops, amongst inhabitants of Orleans, and fear amongst English troops. In those times God's messenger, virgin on the white horse was a shocking picture, it was a God's blow. Despite decision of military French council to not storm English fortifications builded around city of Orleans, Jeanne d'Arc called French troops to assault. She was following «her heavenly council.» According to her «on May 8 will be accomplished matter of supreme importance and my blood will be shed.»

It happens as she predicted. Jeanne d'Arc was wounded and the siege of Orleans was ended. In the head of French army Jeanne have concurred many French cities, she have captured English military Cheafs: Saffock and Talbott. Jeanne have liberated afterwads town of Trua, then Shalon and Reims. On July 16 King Carl VII was coronated in Reims cathedral, exactly as archangel and saintes have said to Jeanne years ago in the garden of her father, near the church. Mission of Jeanne d'Arc was accomplished. She wanted to go back to Domremy, her native village. But the king wanted to keep her as talisman, at his army. She decided to stay.

From that moment her military luck have turned back on her. May be she had lost her ability to inspire French army. She failed to take Paris, the capital, occupied by English. She was wounded when fighting at Paris gate. That failure have discouraged her followers and supporters greatly. She behaved as if she lost her magic power over the crowds. When in Compienne she was betrayed. In the moment when she made a sortie out of city walls, commandant have ordered to close the gates behind her. Jeanne was captured by Burgundian army, who's leaders have sold her to count Luxemburg, who, in his turn have sold her for 40 thousand francs to English troops. Jeanne d'Arc was accused of heresy and of witchcraft. She was transferred to city of Ruan for trial. Tribunal was created consisted of English and Normanic prelates, representatives of Inquisition and of delegates of Paris University. Under the chairmanship of Pierre Cochon, bishop of Bove. Cochen in French is pig.

Jeanne d'Arc was interrogated 20 times, in her prison, and inside of cathedral. The teksts of interrogations reveal to us unusual beauty of soul of that young paysant from village Domremy. Jeanne d'Arc did not revealed any fear during those interrogations. She proved to have unshakable believe in her mission of divine envoy. She proved to be smarter than judges. She was able to put in nonplus her interrogators. With her simple faith she mixed gay mockery of vivid people's mind. She refused to «trust her deeds and words to judgement of militant church,» she untrusted her soul and life to her Lord and his saints.

Her striking courage partially can be explained by her confidence that she will be saved. Until her last minutes Jeanne waited for interference of miracle, of arrival of French troops. She stubbornly refused to wear women clothese, because she wanted that warriors, who she lead to battle, could see her in familiar masculine clothes. Jeanne d'Arc, however waited in vain. No king, no French prelates, who few years ago have recognized her as a God messenger, have intervened to save her. So, on May 30, 1431 Jeanne d'Arc was burned as a witch and heretic.

In 1910 papal council have announced that paysant girl from village Domremy in France from now on are considered as a Sainte Jeanne d'Arc.

I have no doubt of her holiness, that extraordinary virgin. In our skeptical times Jeanne d'Arc is my favorite girl.

#1(230), January 27 — February 9, 2006

To the Red Army memory

I was surrounded by a Red Army soldiers from my birthday until I was twenty, because my father was an officer. No, what I just said, is not exact. When I was born in 1943, my father still was a soldier, aged 25. He was drafted in 1937, tragical year, young electrician from a small town Bobrov of Voronejskaia oblast. He was drafted to diabolical NKVD forces. Because he was electrician. In 1937 it was like to be internet specialist today. So NKVD had first choice in recruiting. Because of that, my father survived Second World War. His brother Yuri, four years younger than him, was drafted in 1941, so he was dead in first battle. My grandfather was also killed at war in 1944.

Anyway, my father was among NKVD soldiers whose job was to guard military factory producing bombs and shells, near town of Dzerjinsk, of Nijegorodskaia oblast. My mother worked on that dangerous factory. I was born in that ecologically terrible place [see eXile 193 story Toxic Feliks for more on Dzerzhinsk — Ed.]. Even now Dzerjinsk has glory to be chemical capital of Russia. I was born in military NKVD hospital. Good beginning for somebody arrested in 2001 by FSB.

First thing what I remember in my life — are laps of my father military overcoat, we were walking in the evening the snowy street of Khrakov. That was, I guess in 1946, because in 1944–45 my father went to military school. He became lieutenant. His overcoat was long, according to Russian tradition, dating from the time of Emperor Paul I, he gave military overcoats (shinel in Russian) to Russian Army in 1800. Before that date Russian troops were fighting without overcoats, wearing whatever they can under their military jackets.

In Krakow our small family lived near railroad station in one of the rear buildings untouched by the bombes. Railroad station was non-existing itself, because of brave German fascist Herman Göring «Luftwaffe». Survived building on the Krasnoarnejskaja street (translated from Russian means «Red Army Street», of course, what else it can be possibly called?!) was occupied by a headquarters of NKVD division. But the last one, third floor was occupied by «dependants» members of officers families. Most of the officers were young, with young wives and small children. We have one room, facing ruins of railroad station: 20 square meters. We were happy.

We, children were living under and among the feet of soldiers and officers. That was a good time, NKVD, or not NKVD. Soldiers were distracting themselves in making fun of each other and teaching children bad things, and bad jokes. I still remember those young soldiers wearing faded uniforms, stinking of shoe polish of boots and cheap cigarettes, laughing as devils of me. Because they taught me to swear. As a trooper. We were all staying near the door to the basement, where was located dining-rooms. When our cook — mustached Dimka would appears, soldiers would ask me: «Hey, Eddie, how is Dimka's fish cooked?» I would readily say: «Khuievaia!» («of a dick quality», bad one). Everybody, including Dimka would laugh. They were simple boys, those NKVD soldiers.

Every soldier and officer was happy in those days. Because war was over, and they were alive! Officers were happy to sport out shining gold-looking shoulder-straps, Stalin have introduced them to Army in 1943. In every time of the day Khrakov girls would be looking for soldiers, the men were sparse in those days, and social status of military man stand high. From time to time I saw couples coming back from ruins: soldier and girl, clutching arms.

When we, children, will ask such couples what did they see in the ruins, they would say seriously: «the place is full of fascists». Then they would laugh. However it was not laughable for us, our mother severely forbid us to go to the ruins, on the ground that ruins are populated by bandits and are full of grenades and bombes. When you are three or four or even five years old you want to be scared. So, trembling, scared, but brave, we would walk to the ruins, nevertheless, made few steps… but we were always stopped by headquarters' brave sentinels.

When many years after in 1993 I was occupying small officer room in military barracks in town of Benkovac (in that time it was a territory of self proclaimed Serbian Republic of Kninskaia Kraina), one might I was awaken by familiar smell. Old, Austro-Hungarian Empire barracks were smelling as the building on Krasnoarmeiskaia Street, Khrakov, after the war. I felt very comfortable.

Red Army… As an old fade photographs are coming to my memory some flash backs: I see court-yard of the building on Krasnoarmeiskaia: rows of soldiers, officers with shining shoulder-straps, chef of staff reporting to divisionary commander. I have seen it from a window of our «dependants» floor.

Another flash-back. Military burial. Major Petchkurov died of old wounds. In those time burials were public, that was a procession coming through all city. For military burial was a habit to put a coffin on the cannon, officers — friends of dead would carry on red cushions his decorations. Petchkurov have died in summer time, sun was shining on the bronze parts of cannon, shoulder-straps of officers were also shining. Red flags, red cushions, colorful dresses of women, that was all beautiful and sad.

Nikita Khrustchev was an evil for the Red Army. He cut officers wages and pensions. Some rumors were circulating that three attempts on his life were undertaken by disillusioned and desperate officers. In our family we also hated Khrustchev, because we were really military family, however small. My mother couldn't have a children after she gave a birth to me, helas.

Slowly, Red Army went to be an unloved child of Soviet Union. It lost its prestige, because it was no big wars, only some minor skirmishes and anyway Communist Party leaders were afraid of a Red Army. When, after two decades of life in the West I came to Russia I saw some Russian soldiers at Sheremetievo. They were wearing some shity overcoats with a plastic buttons, painted green. You imagine, plastic buttons! Their boots were pitiful, made of some plastic imitation. They were untidy, dirty looking individuals. They symbolized the end of Russian Glory, said I to myself. I felt sad.

In order to achieve victories, armies should shine with all its parts: buttons, brass-bands, shoulder-straps, cannons, binoculars, saber's incrustations. They should look like as an altar in the church, in order to sacrifice the lifes of its own soldiers and lifes of enemies. Unshining dull Army is Army of Russian Federation. When Red Army was born in February 1918 it was a mighty beast. Distinguished cavalry men of the First Cavalry Division of Commandarm Semion Budennj were awarded with a Red leather breeches. That was an Army!

Just recently Russian media have widely publicized the story of soldier Sitchev, serving in Tcheliabinsk. The victim of his fellow soldier, tortured, he had amputated his both legs and genitals. Horror! Russia is living terrible crisis. It's Army is a mirror. Soldier Sitchev is an image of Russia: amputated legs and genitals, probably violated.

#3(232), Fabruary 24 — March 9, 2006

Lukashenko Remembered

an argument with Dimitry

I am very far from to be an admirer of Lukashenko. I don't like his voice, I don't like his bald head, he is too simple man to be a leader of central European country with great cultural traditions. Lukashenko is a peasant. In addition to be a simple peasant he is a head of police state, because he is ruling with help of numerous militia forces. Belorussia under Lukashenko is a country where few oppositional leaders as well as independent journalists have disappeared forever.

But my bodyguard Dimitry, citizen of Belorussia, arguing with me constantly on the subject of Lukashenko. «Batka» (father) is a tough man, but he is popular amongst simple people» — said Dimitry. Belorussia elders, retired people live much better then Russian elders in Russian Federation. Prices of food are kept low, majority of people satisfied. The proof of it is the fact that Lukashenko stay in power for over 12 years, and he is winning all presidential elections with a great advantage over his opponents.

Strangely enough, we both are right. Me and Dimitry. That Dimitry is right could be seen by looking at result of new presidential elections in Belorussia.

Huge percentage of electorate has expressed their wish that «Batko Luka» should stay a president for another term. That I am also right convince me my personal experience of my visit to Belorussia.

It was first year of a first term of Lukashenko. It was December 1994. With my colleague Alexander Dugin, both leaders newly created National-Bolshewiks Party we have arrived to Minsk for purpose of lecturing. Lectures were announced to take place at Kiseliov's Palace of Culture. After lecturing it was planed concert of Belorussian band called «Red Stars».

When at 2 p.m. on December 18, Dugin and me accompanied by few boys from «Red Stars» arrived to back entrance of Kiseliov's Palace of Culture, Palace was already surrounded by hundreds of aggressive people. We managed to get in unnoticed and were waiting in back-stage room, to start press-conference and lectures. But the fight have started between handful of our supporters and more then five hundred Belorussian nationalists from Belorussian People's Front. Their leader Zenon Pozdniak gave them order to disrupt lecturing if «Limonov, envoy of Moscovites». They have arrived by buses from the meeting of support for Dudayev, then President of separatist Chechnya. They were angry, militant and aggressive. Auditorium became the field of battle. The chairs were broken, the windows smashed, the sound amplifiers broken. Our supporters,— the boys from pro-Russian organizations bravely defended corridor leading to back-stage room, but under pressure of their troops were forced to take refuge at back-stage room. We have closed the door and barricaded door with the tables. One of our defenders was bleeding terribly. A pale girl sewed by a needle with black thread the open wound on his arm. The door was cracking under pressure.

It was on the second floor. So, we jumped from the window. We were lucky, because crowd of our enemies just passed near that window few minutes ago. We stopped passing car and have arrived at Volodia Selivanov's apartment. But our ordeal was not over.

In few hours Lukashenko's police officers have arrived at Selivanov's apartment. Ignoring our protests they have detained us, we were placed at police-car and driven to Frunsenski district police station.

At Frunsenski station I, separated from others, was walked to the office of chief of police station, where group of police chiefs was waiting for me. They said that I am threat to their public security, that my arrival to their city started public disorders, that they want me to leave immediately the coming evening. I said that I even didn't have a chance to open my mouth, that they have no reason to blame me, that it is I who should protest that they cannot assure my safety in the city of Minsk, where I arrived as a guest.

They said that as in Moscow, they have law of registration and if I will not leave they will follow me and will force me to sign second warning. Then they will send me behind the bars for breaking the law of registration. I said that I have heard such things in 1973 at KGB office on Dzerjinskaia street in Moscow, but the times have changed, or they didn't? If they want to have big scandal, let it be. Then they left and only one man arrived. White hair, black suit with a thin white stripes on it. We got agree that we will leave, me and Dugin, on Monday. Anyway we planned to leave on Monday. They demanded that I will not meet with press.

First thing what I did next morning was to meet with a press. Amongst journalists was Stupnikov from NTV, as it happened he filmed whole battle at Kiseliov's Palace of Culture. Our train was «Vilnius-Moscow» at 23:26. Few boys were accompanying us to a train station. All of them were severely beaten up at entrance of their buildings by Lukashenko's militiamen. They of course wanted to beat Limonov, but substituted their hate on others.

Ironically, Lukashenko used the battle at Kiseliov's Palace of Culture as excuse for breaking Belorussian's People Front. He started criminal charges against Zenon Pozdniak. Dugin was once interrogated in Moscow on that subject, not me. Finally Belorussian's People Front was banned, Zenon Pozdniak have emigrated to the United States. Lukashenko have straightened up his militia state and perfected it. Some opposition leaders have disappeared, as I said. For the sake of what, old-aged pensioners?

Strange state is Belorussia, where elders feel good and youngsters feel bad. Belorussia is a state without society, it is one man State, where «Batka» is taking care of elders. And elders take care of Batka every four years, they elect him president.

The other good thing beside care for pensioners what can be said about Belorussia that they are not at war in Chechnya. Otherwise, I am sorry, Dimitry, it is humiliating to live under Batka, aesthetically unsupportable. Probably little better than to live under Turkmenbashi, but anyway… Zenon Pozdniak was supported by the West, Lukashenko is supported by Russia, I wish that Dimitry's country one day would have a better man to choose from, than those two.

#5(234), March 24 — April 6, 2006

Stay home, ladies and gentlemen!

a statement

Surprisingly for myself, I found myself siding with vice-president of the United States, when judging his speech in Vilnius. Chainey have said:

«in the many spheres of civic society, from religion and medias to the human rights organizations and political parties, Russian authorities have unjustfully and unnecessarily limited the rights of its people».

As I am leader of political party who's rights are not only limited, but practically crashed, I am siding with vice-president of the United States. As I am leader of political party, of which at least six activists were killed, I am siding with Chainey. Recently National-Bolsheviks party have prepared report on physical assaults against party members, we enumerated 40 (forty) assaults (but it is only small part of all violence committed against party members) that is why I am agree with Chainey. I am scandalized myself, I am scandalized by siding with Chainey but I have to admit publicly that vice-president of the United States was still very soft when speaking about those our Russian authorities!

The United States didn't kill six activists of National-Bolsheviks party. I was thrown into prison not by United States of America, but I was arrested by FSB (Federal Security Service) of Russia, investigated by FSB, was held in FSB's prison «Lefortovo», was sentenced by Russian court in Saratov ¼ that is what I am saying to myself in order to justify myself to be in same camp with vice-president of the United States, as I felt uneasy by that neighborhood. However, uneasy, I understand perfectly, that my interests as of a leader of political organization, widely repressed by Russian authorities is that state violence against us will be ceased. My interests as of a leader of political organization created 12 years ago and never ever participated in election since, because repressed by Russian State, is to establish in Russia such political climate which will permit my party to participate in elections. Not only my party is in need of installation of Democracy in Russia, but many others. Elections 1999, those of 2003 were held in such political climate that their results cannot be trusted at all. Those elections were held when all medias, including television, radio and press (with only few exceptions) were ceased by presidential forces, became the properties of State, or property of a State owned companies as «Gazprom», or else by Putin oriented oligarchs. Those elections were held under heavy surveillance of Putin's Ministry of Justice, of Putin's Central Electoral Commition, headed by Putin's men Mr.Veshnjakov, were preceded by courts decisions unfavorable to oppositional parties. Mr.Chainey has put it diplomatically:

«Russian authorities have unjustfully and unnecessarily limited the rights of its people».

It is worst, Mr.Chainey: Russian authorities have eliminated the rights of its people. Political regime under which we, Russians are living is absolutism, old tyrannical tzar's «samoderjavie», the rule by one person. That person called Vladimir Putin.

What that person does for cheating its ally, the United States, and for cheating its European allies: France, Germany, Italy and others, is simple lies. He is lying, when he smiles, he is lying when he talks. He has hooked the United States immediately after September 11, 2001 by expressing his regrets. In supporting the United States in its grief, Putin acted with calculation: his talk about danger of international terrorism was for him only the perfect occasion to receive an indulgence for his personal war in Tchetchnia.

Russian opposition is protesting against dictatorship of Mr.Putin. We have used all peaceful, non-violent methods of protest. We are unwilling to get into violent confrontation with that President and that government not because we are frightened, but because his reaction will be as brutal as reaction of bloody Karimov, president of Uzbekistan. We have had possibility to watch Putin's reaction in the times of crisis: his holding of «Nord-Ost» crisis was brutally violent, his holding of Beslan crisis was brutally violent. So we don't want that innocent people will suffer, will be hurt.

Our interest is to create a climate of Democracy in our country. If the West is absolutely undifferent to the fate of Russia, we are asking western countries for at least doing no help to Putin's regime. Because each visit to Russia by the head of a western government doing harm to the struggle of Russian opposition. By such visits heads of western governments are participate in legitimization of present political regime. Berluskoni, Merkel, Blear, Bush, all are collaboration with Putin. But Putin have killed liberties of Russian people. No matter how many ballots been thrown into slots of ballot-boxes in 2004 for Putin. Don't be deceived by number of ballots, remember that tragical vote of Germans on January 30, 1933.

If vice-president of the United States have said what he said only by chance, without meaning what he said, so I bothered myself for nothing. But if he mean business, the United States and European countries should take farther step by isolating Putin; should not going to Saint-Petersburg in coming July, should not attend the summit.

Putin's service has already started to prepare Saint-Peterburg for a summit. They will arrest or detain most of oppositional activists. They will check up all the trains, all buses, they will take away suspected people. If one is young, it will be impossible to get into «north-capital» of Russia.

Unprecedented security measures were taken when German prime-minister Angela Merkel have visited city of Tomsk on April 27. No, those measures cannot be compared to the measures usually taken by western police for the sake of security. People were thrown into detention, some have disappeared for few weeks, some were beaten up, when detained. Tomsk was invaded by thousands of secret service officers. Population was terrified.

My only wish for a coming summit: Stay home, ladies and gentlemen, don't come to us, don't support our tzar! We will get rid of him better and faster. Thank you. Truly yours,

#9(238), May 19 — June 1, 2006

Putin's Dirty Game With Georgia

For the last month Russia's society is shaken by anti-Georgian epileptic fit. Federal television stations are translating criminal stories of exclusively «Georgian» crimes committed on Russian territory by ethnic Georgians. The Russian political class turned against Georgian President Mikhail Saakashvili, numerous articles are written, and interviews are given in order to portray Saakashvili as traitor to Russian interests and worst, as an American agent. Russian police is busy hunting Georgians at metro stations, at market places, as well as on the streets and in the trains. Even popular personalities of Russian public life, such as writer Boris Akunin (Tchkhartishvili) or sculptor Tsereteli, or ex-intelligence officer Kikabidze, are under attack: Internal Revenue Service is checking their revenues and paid taxes. Thousands of Georgians are deported.

AS nothing of sort can happen in Kingdom of Russia without permission of Vladimir Putin, President, I should believe that President of Russia at least is agree with persecutions of Georgians. Even more, I believe that all that hysteria is created by President of Russia. I believe that simple personal conflict is hidden behind anti-Georgian campaign in Russia.

Young, stout, big, wine drinker, gourmand and bon-vivant Saakashvili, husband of a pretty foreign wife, is drastically opposite type than ascetic, tiny, puritan, square Putin. That couple is predestined to be the enemies.

Another distinction between Georgian and Russian presidents — Saakashvili is public politician, he started his career as a disciple of Shevardnadze, who he has defeated by personally leading «Rose Revolution.» Exuberant, mocking, scornful, good speaker — Saakashvili feels great at parliament, and public places. He is street politician. While President Putin is at his best when working hidden in his office. He is introvert, he hates to face the crowds. Vladimir Putin is appointed leader, appointed by Yeltsin, Putin is a maitre of hidden intrigue. Putin is bureaucrat. They probably hate guts of each other, those two.

It is known that Putin is revengeful person. Old hand of his administration once told me that sudden hike in price of natural gas to Belorussia wasn't result of premeditated plan, but happened after President Lukashenko committed slip of tongue during televised interview, said few unpleasant words about Putin. Putin was enraged, he murmured, «He didn't respect, he didn't respect me…» In order to punish Lukashenko, he gave order to rise price of gas for Belorussia. Nobody told me that President Putin was enraged by Saakashvili, but I believe that my analysis is absolutely right, no matter what other analytics said. Psychological structure of Russian leader is dictating foreign and internal policies of contemporary Russia.

The other thing is also important. Putin worked for KGB during fifteen years. He acquired habits and phobias and traditions of Russian secret service also. He is manipulating Russian internal politics with a help of Russia's foreign policy. Russia's war in Chechnya is serving also as a pretext to keep in health Russian police state. Detentions, passport controls, all sorts privations of liberties, police violence — all that is possible because of Chechen War.

Also, if we will go back to Georgia and to Georgians in Russia, is interesting to point out such fact: You remember killings in northern Russian town called Kondopoga? Killings were committed by the members of Chechen community of Kondopoga. Then, you remember, Russian population of Kondopoga started rioting? And what happen after? Yes, afterwards, from nowhere arrived anti-Georgian campaign. In the very moment when story of Kondopoga's killings was spreading all over Russia. Few weeks later Russian population have forgotten Kondopoga's killings and instead of anti-Chechen campaign Russians got involved in full-scale anti-Georgian campaign, while Georgians didn't kill Russians…

In my opinion we are witnessing skilful manipulation of Russian public opinion by Russian president and government, performed by Russian media, by Russian political class, by Russian police, shortly by Russian State. Putin could not let Russians to look for revenge against Kadirov's Chechens. So, he directed Russia and Russians against Georgians, simply because he hated guts of Saakashvili, bon-vivant, stout Georgian, big boy. That is what we call dirty political game.

Another thing. During anti-Georgian campaign Putin suddenly enriched his vocabulary with expression «korennoi narod» — or «rooted people,» who are of course the ethnic Russians. The interests of the «rooted people» should be defended against you-know-who's interests. That what we all understood from President Putin's speech. Why President Putin took risk of using such racist expression?

The answer could be only one. Because, he wanted to pleased Russian majority, troubled by Kondopoga's killings. President Putin has under command of his Administration perpetually working commandos of professional watchers of public opinion. Watchers have said that public opinion today will be very pleased to hear from President of Russia some support for their nationalistic feelings.

But, excuse me, Mister President, you have not only ordered racist campaign against Georgian people inside of Russia, but also have used some racist vocabulary, yes? Sorry, but what happen then with your anti-fascist campaign, did you stopped it? And how you managing to run both campaigns: anti-fascist and anti-Georgian?

I have many more questions to very strange regime of President Putin to ask, but he will never answer them. He answers only to well rehearsed questions of millions of his followers, as he did on October 25. I guess, he hates my guts no less than guts of Politkovskaya, or Saakashvili.

#21(250), November 3–16, 2006

Litvinenko: A Very Public Execution

Alexander Litvinenko was executed. In demonstrating way. His executioners have chosen for him intentionally slow death. Was Litvinenko really traitor to his motherland? No. He wasn't a spy. He never worked outside Russian territory, he didn't know the names and whereabouts of Russian agents in the West, so he couldn't betray anybody. He was internal security officer. He was executed not for betrayal of Motherland, he was executed for betrayal of his corporation: FSB.

On November 18, 1998 Litvinenko, with a handful of officers, organized televised press-conference in which FSB officers revealed that inside FSB is functioning a murder squad. Officers named the names of commanders of this murder squad. Litvinenko was one of the agents at this press conference. He said that he have received the order to kill the head of Russia's National Security Council, which in 1998 was Boris Beresovski. Litvinenko was arrested in 1999, was held at Lefortovo prison, released, arrested again, held at Butirski prison… Finally he escaped first to Turkey, then to Great Britain. There he wrote two books: «FSB blowing up Russia,» about the 1999 apartment bombings, accusing the FSB. He also wrote a book: «Lubianka's criminal organization.» For all that he was finally punished in November 2006 in London. Another participant of that press conference was Michael Trepashkin, now serving four years sentence. Few times Trepashkin warned that he might be killed.

Entire world is watching sinister story. Few names were named of those who had meetings with Litvinenko on tragical day of November, 1, when he was poisoned. One of the names: Andrei Lugovoi, a typical shadowy figure of contemporary Russia, a figure on the margins between normal world and underworld. Lugovoi and I were held in same time in 2001–2002 at Lefortovo prison. Of course we never met inside prison, but we walked, with hands behind, guarded, along the same corridors, we have stayed under same rusty tubes of the prison bath. In 2001–2002 Lefortovo prison was full of a famous people. Salman Raduev, Lecho Ismailov, former minister of security of Chechnya Artgeriev, Anatoli Bikov, and a few people accused at the «Aeroflot Affair,» most well-known among them was Nikolai Glushkov.

In my book «Limonov Versus Putin» I wrote that Gluskov was arrested for one purpose: that in exchange for closing the «Aeroflot Affair» Putin's people obtained the shares for the television corporation ORT.

The Russian state, like a crude gangster, took a hostage, namely Glushkov, and bargained with Beresovski, who was main shareholder of ORT. Glushkov refused to testify against Beresovski. The «Aeroflot Affair» almost collapsed. The Chief Investigations Department of FSB is located building to building with Lefortovo prison. One of the doors of Lefortovo prison's 3rd floor opened up to the Chief Investigations Department, when investigators, «Chekists,» understood that Glushkov was not scared and he will not give up Beresovski. So they organized a provocation. They organized an «escape» of Glushkov. They permitted Glushkov to spend one night at his apartment in Moscow, making him believe that anyway he will be released soon.

But on the following night when Glushkov supposed to go again to his apartment, accompanied by few Lefortovo officers and his own bodyguard Andrei Lugovoi, Glushkov was accused of attempting to «escape.» Lefortovo officers as well as Lugovoi were arrested. They spent less than a year at Lefortovo prison, and then they relocated. As you see, Lugovoi was already involved in very dubious, suspicious provocation. One of my co-accused comrades from among National-Bolshewiks, Sergei Aksionov, have been held in same cell with Glushkov, so I know the story.

Chechens who were held at Lefortovo in those years all died by unnatural deaths. Like Salman Raduev. And ex-Minster of Security of Chechen Republic, young healthy man of 34, Atgeriev also died in camp a few months after his arrival. Chechen General Lecho Ismailov in the end of 2002 was calling from his cell to Movsar Baraev at the theater of Dubrovka. Ismailov gave a favor to the FSB-officers, who asked him to call Baraev in order to distract his attention from upcoming storming of theater building by FSB troops using poisoned gaz. Later, after eating sandwiches and drinking farewell tea with «Chekists» Ismailov died on his way to camp: in prison compartment of railroad train. Chekists probably miscalculated: Ismailov supposed to die in camp. Interesting detail: Ismailov have lost all his hair before dying.

I have carefully read few interviews with Andrei Lugovoi. The weakest point of interviews: his statement that he met Litvinenko in order to have some mutual business. It seems ridiculous to me that Russian man with such biography as has Lugovoi suddenly decided to have a mutual business affair with such man as Litvinenko. Even with me, some people afraid to be photographed together, while real businessmen are afraid to be seen next to me! But Litvinenko, Jesus Christ! I refuse to believe that Lugovoi have ignored fact that Litvinenko is under constant surveillance of security services, they are at least two of them: His majesty Intelligence Service and FSB of Russia. Lugovoi could not have ignored situation around Litvinenko. Heavy punishment could be imposed on a man friendly with Litvinenko. In Russia his business would be crushed as kitten under heavy truck.

In the morning, following death of Litvinenko, President Putin, in sharp contradiction with his tradition of silence, murmured that he «is sorry that such tragical event as a death of a man is used for a political provocation.» Who is political provocateur, President didn't say. He didn't say either that political provocations now are committed with a scary regularity ever month. October — killing of Anna Politkovskaya, November — killing of Litvinenko. What kind of secret organization is capable to kill in professional way in Moscow buildings, as well as in London restaurant using radioactive material, you can guess yourself. It's easy. Isn't it?

#23(252), Dezember 1–14, 2006

Wonderful Christmas: 2002

Season of Greetings in 2002 started for me on December 24, 2002, after breakfast time. I was in jail in Saratov, during my trial. Warden have opened first door to my jail cell and have said, «Savenko [Limonov's real name — Ed.], be ready for going out, with your belongings!» And he closed the door. Me and my cellmate Pavel Rybkin started to pack my belongings. I was thinking on wide range of questions, such as, «Why? Where are they going to transfer me?» «For what reason they are decided to transfer me after only two weeks' confinement in cell 29, Prison Number 2 of Saratov Region?» I didn't have answers to these questions.

Prison No.2 was located inside of Camp No.2 near a town called Engels, of Saratov Region. (Once upon a time Engels was a capital of Autonomous Republic of Germans-On-The-Volga.) Regime of Camp No.2 was «severe», Prison No.2 was also prison of «strict regime», so it was against the law to transfer me there in the first place. As I was undergoing judicial process, was on trial, not yet sentenced, so I was supposed to be held in a regular jail. As to Prison No.2 it was created in order to break high ranking criminals. Cell Number 39 was previously occupied by known «Godfather» named Petrukha; also by the former head of the administration of Balakovo (town in the south of the Saratov region); and other criminal celebrities. However celebrated, cell was about six square meters, of which 1 square meter was occupied by public style stinking toilet. Small slot of window was covered by scraps of metal. Table and two benches were made of steel. Very unpleasant place, even by Russian prison standards.

Only after it was dark, they let me out of my cell. I shaked hands with Rybkin: monkey-like, smiling, good-humored creature, and walked out, carrying all my belongings plus mattress. Wardens never will help a prisoner, so they just followed me on first floor, smiling. Most of wardens of Prison No.2 were Kazakhs from Kazakhstan, Mongol yellow faces. On first floor they ordered me to undress. They also searched all my things, one by one. Those brutes, however, were almost friendly with me, they did their job in half-strength. All search done, they have closed me in one of a cells. It proved to be absolutely empty! But corridor, where wardens have searched me, was full of prisoners. All of them were squatting along the wall, faces to wall, hands on backs of the head. Now, sitting alone in empty cell, I finally understood that I was privileged prisoner. Instead of sitting in tortuous position in corridor, I was having some rest!

Meanwhile, through tiny hole of a window, I could hear the noises of a camp. Camp's radio have announced the names of best prisoners, those who have worked hard, and those who were exemplary, exceptionally disciplined. Then I hared the noise of many pairs of boots and sort of fascist aggressive music. Then camp became silent. I was thinking, «What happened? Why prisoners were squatted in corridor, their sacks along the wall?»

I have found only one explanation: prisoners all will be transferred to other prisons and camps. Prison No.2 will be closed. Some weak rumors were circulated among us already for a few days, but so many rumors are circulated inside of prisons! Most of them never came through.

After few hours of solitary confinement inside an empty cell I started to worry. I could hear nothing from corridor, because the door was so thick! What if they all, the prisoners and wardens, have left prison and have forgotten me here! Idea was very stupid, nevertheless I started to knock on the door. Nothing happened. I have repeated my knocking. Big water-blue eye, have appeared in peep-hole: «What do you need?»

«Don't forget me here!» I said.

«No, we will not,» said water-blue eye. He didn't mock me, he was serious. They will not abandon me here.

Finally after some more time, they have opened the door. I took my belongings and they walked me to very head of prisoners' line. I squatted as others. Then the convoying officers, looking like medieval knights, arrived. Why medieval knights? Because they were wearing so many heavy clothes, they were barely able to move.

I stood up. I reported my name, my crimes. Red-faced knight hurled, «Why that hair of yours!» (Because I had long hair and beard.)

Office warden of our Prison No.2 murmured something into the ear of red-faced. «Yes, no problem!» said red-faced. «Go!» said he to me.

I got my belongings and have run to a prisoners car. «Run,» because they were screaming: «Run, run!» So I got first to the car, I got a place in the end of one of two confinements. As I proved later, I was best of possible places. Packed as sardines in a can we were nevertheless happy. Any place would be better than prison No.2. Most of us have dreamed to be transferred to building No.3, in Saratov itself, of Saratov's Central Prison. Because building No.3 was special building for serious criminals. Because of that, regime of building No.3 wasn't severe, anyway inhabitants will be sentenced to heavy punishments. I have many chances to be relocated to No.3, as I was previously held in No.3.

Traveling at night, packed as sardines, 23 men at all, 12 in our confinement, 11 inside of other confinement, was uncomfortable. We were squashed, cold, but happy anyway. Then I suddenly realized that all «civilized» world is celebrating now. That is the Christmas time, the night from 24 to 25 December!

«You know,» I said to a thin man, scrambled at my left shoulder, you know, tonight is a Catholic Christmas!

«What is Christmas?» asked he.

«The day when Jesus Criste was born,» said he.

«Tonight?» he asked.

«Exactly,» said I.

«Good,» he said.

He was polite, everybody are polite in prison, except wardens. Prison is a place where etiquette reigns supreme.

I thought about all my Christmas nights, all twenty of them, celebrated in glorious capitals, in New York and in Paris: Seasons of Greetings…about skating rink at Rockefeller Plaza with huge Christmas tree above it, «jingle bells» near Sak's and Bloomingdale's, of aroma from roasting chestnuts… Oh Jesus Criste! I always thought that I was unhappy in New York, but now from inside of a prisoner's car, speeding on evening Asiatic road to Saratov, I understood that I was happy in New York. And I thought about my Paris Christmases… Sometimes I have been busy with writing on Christmas nights, because my former wife Natasha was occupied, she was singing at night clubs. I would write, then at midnight I would drink a glass of wine, hearing claxoning from the Paris streets, because French always claxoning on Christmas nights, and at night of a New Year…

Few hours later I was entering «quarantine cell» of Saratov's Central Prison. Usually «quarantine cell» is a place of torture for a new arrived prisoners. But in my case, senior of «quarantine» named «Dima Furious» have ordered tea for me.

«Tonight is a Christmas Night, isn't it?» said he.

Seniors of cells usually are recruited amongst prisoners with a high IQ.

«Yes,» I confirmed, «Christmas Night.»

In the morning I was driven to «my» cellblock Number 3, the object of desire for every prisoner of Saratov's region.

Happy New Year!— Edward Limonov

#25(254), December 29, 2006 — Januar 12, 2007

Punk and national-bolshevism

Mark Ames asked me to write about National-Bolsheviks' Party and punks movement. So I am forced to take a look at my past, despite the fact that I am very much involved in the present time, because Mark.

I have arrived to New York City from Soviet Union in February, 1975. That was exactly the year punk movement was born. The first what I see of punks in 1976 was fanzine called «Punk.» It was sort of samizdat publication, black and white, formatted A4 size, made on Xerox machine. One of the editors had a strange name — Legs McNeil. That name «Legs» have shocked me. It was a lot of comics inside and caricatures. I remember one where a girl denied some guy his invitation to dance. She said, «Sorry but no, I only dance with faggots.»

Russian immigrants didn't understand my excitement with «Punk» magazine (I showed it to everybody), they thought that was a piece of trash. So it was, but new movement was intentionally acclaiming trash as its ideology. Year later punk shops were prospering in Lower East Side, amongst them was a shop called «Trash and Vaudeville,» they sold clothes.

Punk magazine have advertised new music. «Hottest groups in town» they said. I went to check it out at CBGB, the black hole at Bowery and Bleeker streets. In 1975 it wasn't a much crowded in it. Two years later CBGB was the hottest place in the United States.

Then I met Julia Carpenter, she was 21, daughter of FBI officer. She worked as housekeeper at Peter Sprague's house at 6 Sutton Square, Manhattan of course. Julie's best girlfriend Marianne Flint was a girlfriend of Mark Bell. Julie introduced us to each other. Mark bell was a drummer for Richard Hell. O Brothers, Richard Hell was a key figure of punk's musical scene. Actually he was a father of punk with his album «Blank Generation.» Mark gave to me that vinyl, as a present. He also critically despised my simple, black T-shirt, and brought me Richard Hell's T-shirt instead — white with a map of the subway lines on it. He said that Richard Hell gave many interviews wearing that T-shirt. T-shirt was slashed here and there.

At that time neither I, nor Mark Bell, have understood all the importance of Richard Hell. Not only «Blank Generation» was first album of totally new music of young protest, but Richard Hell influenced Malcolm MacLaren, who invented Sex Pistols later, when he came back from New York to London. It is known now that MacLaren was very much impressed with music played by Richard Hell, so he wanted Sex Pistols to play similar music.

Looking back to myself, sporting in those years that «IRT Lines» T-shirt, I am thinking it was a sort of symbolical T-shirt, as sacred object, what tied me to punk. Both my books written in New York, «It's Me, Eddie» in 1976 and «Diary of a Loser» (1978), are written in aesthetics of punk. «No doubt about that I fuck all of you, fucken into mouth beaches, go all to cocks!» — the very end of «It's Me, Eddie.» If it is not punk, what is it?

Then Mark Bell was invited to join Ramones. I met Ramones many times, but my destiny forced me to move to Paris. When Ramones touring Europe went through Paris I went to hotel «Meridian» to greet them. Couple of times visiting New York I would each time to see Marianne and Mark Bell, or «Markie Ramone» as he was rechristened by Ramones.

My interests have switched from literature towards politics in the end of the 1980s. But, when founding National-Bolsheviks Party in 1993 I contacted Egor Letov, biggest Russian punk idol of all times. National-Bolsheviks flag was first showed to public at concert of Egor Letov at club of «Armed Forces» at Moscow. It was choking: four meters, red, white, and black monster, hanging above stage. Certainly it was irritating, provocative, outrageous punk, our flag. It is even still irritating, provocative, outrageous now. Egor Letov was given National Bolsheviks Party membership card number 4. I believe that such card could be given to Sid Vicious and Johnny Rotten (the Johnny Rotten of 1977) and such membership would be accepted.

Letov, as all punk artists, proved to be inconsistent, capricious, and unpredictable. He quarreled with us in 1996, came back to party later, then went to his own punk solitude. Sometimes he is declaring himself Red and National-Bolshevik, sometimes he makes believe he doesn't know us. But his presence in leadership of National-Bolsheviks Party gave Party thousands of recruits over the years. Not all of them become hard-working party activists, some just have passed through Party, but punks were skeleton of Party organizations in first years of our existence.

Loud denial of so-called values of civilization, grotesque, trash, screamigns, some borrowings of Rightist aesthetics, were common for New York City punk movement of 1970s as well as for first National-Bolsheviks in 1990s. Beside of Egor Letov dozens of violent musicians were incorporated in NBP. «Pauk» Sergei Troitski of «Korrosia Metala,» Dimtry Reviakin of «Band of Fours» and «Day of Donor,» as well as my defunct wife Natasha Medvedeva and leader (also defunct now) of «Pop Mechanics» Sergei Kuriokhin were among National-Bolsheviks.

Newspaper of National-Bolsheviks Party «Limonka» was in 1990s the most radical and most punkish of whole world. With its slogans like «Eat the Rich!» or «Good bourgeois is a dead bourgeois!» or «Capitalism is shit!» we were in punk tradition, what else?…

The official invitation to join NBP had the slogan: «Don't take a piss! Join the NBP!» illustrated using a man with a death skull, wearing a tie and the arm band of the NBP. Dozens of writers were raised in the climate of the radical newspaper «Limonka.» Some of the writers' NBP works are available in a book called «Generation of Limonka,» other names became well-known, such as Zarhar Prilepin, author of the novel «Sankia,» about a life and death of NBP activist, or Alexei Tsvetkov, author of numerous books.

NBP's actions, however non-violent, are bearing aesthetics of punk, for example occupation of Bolshoi Theater on May 7, 2004, the day when Putin was inaugurated. Putin was expected at Bolshoi that evening, so National-Bolsheviks erupted on stage, took over president's box. They were burning fires as football hooligans, wearing flags and screaming slogans. That was beautiful. That was punk.

So, my friend Mark Ames, you were absolutely right in your guess about punk origins of National-Bolsheviks. But National Bolsheviks Party story is going on. I believe one day NBP will be thoroughly analyzed, scrutinized. Many heavy books will be written on subject «NBP and Punk.» I just made a sketch.

#1(255), January 26 — February 8, 2007

Панк и национал-большевизм

Марк Эймс попросил меня написать о Национал-Большевистской Партии и панковском движении. Итак, по просьбе Марка я вынужден взглянуть на свое прошлое, несмотря на то, что я очень сильно вовлечен в настоящее.

Я приехал в Нью-Йорк из Советского Союза в феврале 1975 года. Именно в этом году появилось панк движение. Первое, что я увидел, связанное с панком, был журнал «Панк». Это было что-то вроде самиздата, черно-белое издание формата А4, отпечатанное на ксероксе. У одного из редакторов было очень странное имя — Легз Макнейл (Legs McNeil). Имя Легз (ноги) шокировало меня. В журнале было очень много комиксов и карикатур. Я помню одну, на которой была изображена девушка, которая отказывалась идти танцевать с парнем. Она говорила: «Извини, но я не могу, я танцую только с гомосексуалистами».

Русские иммигранты не понимали моего восхищения журналом «Панк» (я показывал его всем), они думали, что это мусор. Это действительно было так, но новое движение намеренно провозглашало мусор своей идеологией. Через год панковские магазины стали процветать на Лоуэр Ист-Сайд, среди них был магазин под названием «Trash and Vaudeville», в котором продавалась одежда.

Панковский журнал рекламировал новую музыку. «Самые крутые группы в городе»,— писали они. Я пошел проверить это в клуб CBGB на пересечении улиц Боуэри и Бликер. В 1975 году там было не очень много народу. Два года спустя CBGB стал самым популярным местом в Соединенных Штатах.

Потом я встретил Джулию Карпентер, дочь офицера ФБР, ей тогда был 21 год. Она работала домохозяйкой у Питера Спрага на шестой Саттон Сквер, естественно, в Манхэттене. Лучшая подруга Джулии Мэриэн Флинт была девушкой Марка Бэлла. Джулия познакомила нас. Марк Бэлл был барабанщиком группы Richard Hell. O Brothers и Richard Hell были ключевыми фигурами панковской музыкальной сцены. Фактически альбомом «Blank Generation» они положили начало панку. Марк подарил мне эту пластинку. Еще он ненавидел мою простую черную футболку и принес мне вместо нее белую футболку Richard Hell с изображением схемы метро. Он сказал, что они давали много интервью в этой футболке. Вся футболка была рваной.

В то время ни я, ни Марк Бэлл не осознавали всю важность Richard Hell. «Blank Generation» был не только первым альбомом абсолютно новой музыки протеста молодежи, но также Richard Hell повлияли на Малколма МакЛарена, который создал Sex Pistols, когда приехал в Лондон из Нью-Йорка. Сейчас известно, что МакЛарен был сильно впечатлен музыкой Richard Hell и хотел, чтобы Sex Pistols играли что-то подобное.

Вспоминая себя, разгуливающего в футболке со схемой метрополитена, я думаю, что эта футболка была чем-то вроде символического, сакрального предмета, который связал меня с панком. Обе мои книги, написанные в Нью-Йорке, «Это я, Эдичка» в 1976 году и «Дневник Неудачника» (1978 г.) написаны в эстетике панк. «Я ебал вас всех, ебаные в рот суки! Идите вы все на хуй!»,— так заканчивается «Это я, Эдичка». Что это, если не панк?

Потом Марка Бэлла позвали в группу Ramones. Я много раз встречался с ними, но судьба заставила меня переехать в Париж. Когда Ramones с туром по Европе приезжали в Париж, я заходил к ним в отель «Meridian». Пару раз заезжая в Нью-Йорк, я встречался с Мэриэн и Марком Бэллом, или «Марки Рэймоном», как его окрестили в Ramones.

В конце восьмидесятых мое увлечение литературой сменилось увлечением политикой. Но, создавая в 1993 году Национал-Большевистскую Партию, я связался с Егором Летовым, идолом русского панка всех времен и народов. Впервые Национал-Большевистский флаг был показан публике на концерте Егора Летова в клубе «Armed Forces» в Москве. Это было шокирующее зрелище: четырехметровый красно-бело-черный монстр, висящий над сценой. Конечно, наш флаг был раздражающим, провокационным, скандальным проявлением панка. Он и сейчас остается раздражающим, провокационным и скандальным. Егор Летов получил членский билет Национал-Большевистской Партии номер 4. Я уверен, что Сид Вишез и Джонни Роттен (Джонни Роттен 1977 года) не отказались бы от такого билета.

Летов, как все панк музыканты, оказался противоречивым, капризным и непредсказуемым. Он поругался с нами в 1996 году, затем вернулся в партию, потом ушел в панковское одиночество. Иногда он называет себя Красным и Национал-Большевиком, иногда он притворяется, что ничего не знает о нас. Но его присутствие в руководстве Национал-Большевистской Партии приносило Партии тысячи новобранцов в течении нескольких лет. Не все из них стали прилежными активистами, некоторые просто прошли через Партию, но панки составляли костяк Партийной организации в первые годы ее существования.

Активное отрицание так называемых ценностей цивилизации, гротеск, трэш, крики, что-то от эстетики правых характеризовали панк движение в Нью-Йорке в семидесятых, так же как и Национал-Большевиков девяностых. Кроме Егора Летова, десятки других жестких музыкантов были членами НБП. «Паук» Сергей Троицкий из «Коррозии металла», Дмитрий Ревякин из «Калинова Моста», Сантим из «Банды четырех» и Александр Аронов из «Дня донора», а также моя покойная жена Наталья Медведева и лидер (тоже уже покойный) «Поп-механики» Сергей Курехин были Национал-Большевиками.

Газета Национал-Большевистской Партии «Лимонка» в девяностых была самой радикальной и панковской в мире. С такими лозунгами, как «Ешь богатых!», «Хороший буржуй — мертвый буржуй» или «Капитализм — дерьмо!» мы были в традиции панка, что еще?…

Листовка о приглашении в партию содержала лозунг «Не ссы — вступай в НБП!» и изображение человека с черепом вместо головы, на котором был надет галстук и нарукавная повязка НБП. Десятки писателей воспитывались в климате радикальной газеты «Лимонка». Работы некоторых писателей можно прочитать в книге «Поколение Лимонки», кто-то стал хорошо известным, например, Захар Прилепин, автор романа «Санькя» о жизни и смерти активиста НБП, или Алексей Цветков, автор многочисленных книг.

Ненасильственные акции НБП выдержаны в эстетике панка, например, захват Большого Театра 7 мая 2004 года, в день инаугурации президента. Путин должен был приехать в театр в тот день, и Национал-Большевики выбежали на сцену, захватили президентскую ложу. Они жгли файеры, как футбольные хулиганы, размахивали флагами и выкрикивали лозунги. Это было красиво. Это был панк.

Итак, мой друг Марк Эймс, вы были абсолютно правы, подозревая панковское происхождение Национал-Большевиков. Но история Национал-большевистской Партии продолжается. Я уверен, что когда-то НБП будут анализировать и тщательно изучать. Много толстых книг будет написано на тему «НБП и панк». Я только сделал набросок.

перевод с английского: Алина Васильченко


O movimento punk e o Nacional Bolchevismo

O Mark Ames (do jornal Exile, ndt) pediu-me para escrever acerca das ligações do Partido Nacional Bolchevique ao movimento punk. Vejo-me forçado a olhar para o meu passado, apesar do facto de me encontrar muito mais envolvido com o presente, por culpa do Mark.

Cheguei à cidade de Nova Iorque, vindo da União Soviética, em Fevereiro de 1975. Precisamente no ano em que o movimento punk surgiu. O meu primeiro contacto com o meio punk foi através duma fanzine que encontrei em 1976 que dava pelo nome «Punk». Era uma publicação do género da samizdat, a preto e branco, em formato A4, editado em fotocopiadora. Um dos seus editores tinha um nome estranho — Legs McNeil. O nome «Legs» chocou-me. A revista tinha no seu interior muita banda desenhada e muitas caricaturas. Lembro-me de uma em que uma rapariga negava o convite de um gajo qualquer para dançar. Dizia ela, «Desculpe mas não, só danço com maricas.»

Os imigrantes russos não compreendiam a minha excitação quanto à revista «Punk» (mostrei-a a toda a gente), acharam que era um bocado de lixo. E era, mas o novo movimento afirmava intencionalmente o lixo como uma ideologia. Um ano mais tarde prosperavam as lojas punk por todo o Lower East Side, entre elas uma loja que dava pelo nome de «Trash and Vaudeville», vendiam roupa.

A revista «Punk» publicitava um novo género musical. «Os melhores grupos da cidade» diziam eles. Fui dar uma vista de olhos no CBGB, um buraco negro entre as ruas Bowery e Bleeker. Em 1975 estava praticamente vazio. Dois anos mais tarde o CBGB era o local mais badalado dos Estados Unidos.

Conheci a Júlia Carpenter, na altura com 21 anos, filha de um oficial do FBI. Trabalhava como governanta na casa do Peter Sprague, nr 6 na Sutton Square, em Manhattan pois claro. A melhor amiga da Julie era a Marianne Flint, namorada do Mark Bell. A Julie apresentou-nos. O Mark Bell era o baterista do Richard Hell. O Richard Hell era uma figura destacada da cena musical punk. Na realidade foi o pai do punk com o seu álbum «Blank Generation». O Mark ofereceu-me esse vinyl, como prenda. Também manifestou o seu repúdio pela minha t-shirt negra e simples e trouxe-me uma t-shirt do Richard Hell para a substituir — branca com um mapa das linhas de metro. Disse-me que o Richard Hell tinha dado muitas entrevistas com aquela t-shirt vestida. A t-shirt tinha alguns cortes aqui e ali.

Na altura nem eu nem o Mark Bell compreendiamos ainda a importância do Richard Bell. Não só o álbum «Blank Generation» foi o primeiro álbum dum tipo musical completamente novo de protesto juvenil, mas o Richard Hell influenciou também o Malcolm MacLaren, que posteriormente criou os Sex Pistols, quando este regressou a Londres depois de uma estadia em Nova Iorque. Agora sabe-se que MacLaren ficou muito impressionado com a música tocada por Richard Hell, e quis que os Sex Pistols tocassem algo semelhante.

Olhando para mim naqueles anos, com a t-shirt com as linhas do metro, julgo que era uma t-shirt simbólica, um objecto sagrado, que me unia ao punk. Os dois livros que escrevi em Nova Iorque, «It's me, Eddie» em 1976 e «Diary of a Loser» (1978) são escritos com uma estética punk. «No doubt about that I fuck all of you, fucken into mouth beaches, go all to cocks!» — é o final do «It's me, Eddie». Se isto não é punk, o que é?

Depois o Mark Bell foi convidado para integrar os Ramones. Encontrei-me com os Ramones muitas vezes, mas o meu destino obrigou-me a ir viver para Paris. Quando os Ramones vieram à Europa em digressão e passaram por Paris, encontrei-me com eles no hotel «Meridian». Das poucas vezes que visitei Nova Iorque em todas visitei a Marianne e o Mark Bell, ou Marky Ramone, depois de alistado pelos Ramones.

Os meus interesses mudaram da literatura para a política no final dos anos 80. Mas, quando fundei o Partido Nacional Bolchevique em 1993, contactei com Egor Letov, o maior ídolo punk russo de todos os tempos. A bandeira Nacional Bolchevique foi mostrada em público pela primeira vez num concerto do Egor Letov no clube «Armed Forces» em Moscovo. Era chocante, com quatro metros, um monstro vermelho, negro e branco pendurado no palco. Era certamente irritante, provocatória, era extremamente punk a nossa bandeira. Actualmente ainda é irritante, provocatória e ultrajante. Egor Letov foi portador do cartão de militante número 4 do Partido Nacional Bolchevique. Creio que esse cartão poderia mesmo ter sido atribuído ao Sid Vicious ou ao Johnny Rotten (o Johnny Rotten de 1977) caso aceitassem tal filiação.

Letov, tal como todos os artistas punk, provou ser inconsistente, caprichoso e imprevisível. Chateou-se connosco em 1996, mais tarde regressou ao partido e depois partiu novamente para a sua solidão punk. Por vezes afirma ser de esquerda e Nacional Bolchevique, outras dá a entender que não nos conhece. Mas a sua presença na liderança do Partido Nacional Bolchevique trouxe ao partido milhares de novos recrutas com o passar dos anos. Nem todos se tornaram em árduos activistas, alguns limitaram-se a passar pelo partido, mas os punks foram o esqueleto da organização do partido nos primeiros anos da nossa existência.

A negação vociferada dos valores da civilização, a estética grotesca, de lixo, de migalhas, pedindo emprestada alguma simbologia de direita, eram características comuns com movimento punk nova iorquino dos anos 70, bem como dos primeiros Nacional Bolcheviques nos anos 90. Além do Egor Letov foram incorporados no PNB dezenas de músicos violentos. «Pauk» Sergei Troitski dos «Korrosia Metala», Dmitry Reviakin dos «Bando f Fours» e dos «Day of Donor», bem como a minha defunta esposa Natasha Medvedeva a o (também defunto) líder dos «Pop Mechanics» Sergei Kuriokhin contavam-se entre os Nacional Bolcheviques.

O jornal do Partido Nacional Bolchevique, «Limonka», era nos anos 90 o jornal mais radical e punk do mundo. Com slogans como «Comam os ricos!» ou «Um bom burguês é um burguês morto!» ou ainda «Capitalismo é merda!» estávamos a cumprir a boa tradição punk, ou não?

O convite oficial para filiação no PNB tinha a frase de ordem: «Não engulas o sapo! Ingressa no PNB!» com a ilustração de um homem com a caveira exposta, vestido a rigor com gravata e com a braçadeira do PNB. Dezenas de escritores foram angariados com o aspecto radical do jornal «Limonka». Alguns dos trabalhos desses escritores estão disponíveis num livro que dá pelo nome de «Geração Limonka», alguns nomes tornaram-se bem conhecidos como os de Zarhar Prilepin, autor do romance «Samkia», acerca da vida e morte de um activista do PNB, ou Alexei Tsvetkov, autor de inúmeras obras.

As acções do PNB, embora não violentas, utilizam a estética punk, por exemplo a ocupação do Teatro Bolshoi em 7 de Maio de 2004, o dia em que Putin o ia inaugurar. Estava agendada uma visita de Putin ao Bolshoi nessa noite, portanto os Nacional Bolcheviques subiram ao palco e ocuparam o púlpito do presidente. Queimaram foguetes como se fossem hooligans de futebol, ondearam bandeiras e gritaram palavras de ordem. Foi belo! Foi punk.

Portanto, caro amigo Mark Ames, tens toda a razão acerca do teu palpite acerca das origens punk dos Nacional Bolcheviques. Mas a história do Partido Nacional Bolchevique continua. Creio que um dia o PNB será minuciosamente analisado e escrutinado. Serão escritos livros muito pesados acerca do «PNB e o movimento punk». Limitei-se a fazer um esboço.

Edward Limonov

It's Me, Daddy: Limonov On Fatherhood

On the great day of Russian Great Revolution I have driven my pregnant wife to the First Birth-House of Moscow. House is located on very North-West of our beloved capital between metro station Planernoye and Alioshkinski forest. We decided that our son will be born near Alioshkinski forest on the street called Vilis Lacis Street not because we are attracted by forest or Vilis Lacis. I even don't know who the hell is Valis Lacis. Is he famous Tchekist, friend of Felix Djerjinski? Not it seems to me that Velis was a Latwian writer, I suppose so, because near Lacis Street on the map one can see also Yanis Rainis Street and Salomea Neris Street. Yanis, I remember well, was a Latwian writer, so that the place is swarming with dead Latwians. I mean place where my son was born. Because Katia's doctor recommended First House.

Katia was ready to go. We brought all the things necessary for bringing babies home from birth-houses: diapers, pampers, babies clothes. Some of the things were made in Germany, some in Rostov-Sur-Don. Some even in Tadjikistan. We have a few plastic bags containing things for our baby. We started at 9 in the morning. We were four of us plus old Cadillak (Mark Ames once called it «Jewish canoe.» We looked really exotical people. The driver Maxim Kalashnikov was wearing full length leather coat with woolf fur around neck and cap like Zirinowski's cap. He was from Siberian city of Irkutsk, but arrested for participation at NBP action in Moscow, released, so waited to be judged. He was on parole. Then it was Dmitry, football hooligan, one of my bodyguards, looking like a skinhead, bluejeans, sneakers, you know how they look, those boys. Dimitri is from Belorussia, he always voting for Lukashenko, for «Latka». Katka was wearing mink coat, lips red with lipstick, lady-like. And finally I was looking like crazy Doctor Faust, you know me, beard, moustaches, glasses, plus leather coat, short one.

Near the First-Birth-House Katia said: I feel cool, why we came here today? Let us go back home, maybe? I don't feel any pain…

— No, I said. You should be shown to the doctors, because it is the fortieth week of pregnancy.

— OK, she said, maybe they will send me home after. And we proceeded to sit and wait among few pregnant women and their relatives in reception room. I had hope that doctors will keep Katia, because I had to go to manifestation celebrating October Revolution what happened 89 years ago. National-Bolsheviks always commemorate Revolution together with Communist Party of Russia. Other reason for my hope was a great distance between Katia's place in the centre of Moscow and Visa Lacis Street. In addition, Leningradskoye shosse (highway) was under construction, I didn't want to be stuck in traffic jam with a pregnant wife screaming out of pain.

Katia's friend called her to tell her that she gave birth to a daughter few days ago. And I, said Katia, I am seating in Birth House reception room and feeling nothing. I think I will give a birth next week. Then Katia was admitted to First Birth House. We went out to buy her some mineral water and some juice. We went back, Katia appeared in the entry, smiling as charming actress, she was wearing First Birth House Gown. She took water and juice, she gave us mink coat and her dresses. She said she will call after the doctors and we promised to come and take her back if necessary. The we left, smiling, free men, liberty wind was caressing our skin. Maksim Kalashnikov, I forgot to mention, had a red Scandanavian beard plus all his Siberian charms. Militia never stopped «Cadillak» when he was at driver's place.

Protest over, about five p.m. we discovered that our friend Misha, silent and solid young man (he was also arrested with me at Altai mountains in 2001, but released, they have had no proofs against him) was born exactly 27 years ago. So, we decided to drink little bit for his health. It happened in my sort of office, where I usually write, have meetings, and make long distance phone calls. While my party colleagues were arranging table I have dialed Katia's phone number. It was no answer. I figured out that she was undergoing some medical procedure, giving sample of blood, for example. So, I took my place at the table. Cool.

As we were four of us, we bought only one bottle. We wanted to drink only symbolically and then we were ready to go back to our evening plans. We were ready to drink for a Party Glory, we actually were keeping glasses with vodka at our hands, when my mobile telephone squeaked joyfully, I swear that telephone have had unusual squeak in its voice. Katia it was. She said, «Edward Veniominovitch, congratulations, your son just was born!

She never before called me in that old fashion Russian way, with father's name added. At first I thought that she is kidding, then second thought arrived that there, near Alioshkinski forest, inside First Birth House of Moscow she gave birth to my and her son I runned back towards the table and we, members of a banned National Bolsheviks Party have drunk some vodka intended to be drunk for a party for the birth of my son.

Katia said I could go and see him in a few hours. She said that old good ladies, doctors at the head of First Birth House of Moscow were ready to make for me an exception from their severe regulations: as I am a star in my country, however negative, but a star. For stars Russia has no regulations.

We got to Jewish canoe. Direction: First Birth House, Alioshkinsky Forest. We bought a bunch of flowers. As a traffic jam was very dense and I was impatient to see my new born son, we bought a bottle of cognac at near-road night store. Of course I was main consumer of alcohol, originated supposedly in America, but actually who cares from where.

At reception hall of First Russian Birth House they were awaiting for me. Old medical assistant: sister smiled at me drunken father, and I followed her into corridors of the House. I was wearing white doctors gown. Then Katia appeared, wearing First Birth House blue marine gown. Then one of the doors have opened and young «sister» appeared, holding sort of half-open envelope, where in envelope opening I saw a very serious, very good looking babe. He was asleep. His skin was little bit yellowish, but otherwise his appearance was dignified. Look, he is like Mao Tze Dong, said Katia. He needs some rest, said «sister,» he is tired of birth. Katia said that for her birth was easy. It is lasted only two hours. Despite absence of a pains in the morning, she was ready to give birth on Novemeber 7. Trotski was born that very day, said I.

Oh, no! said Katia, everything but not Trotski!

When we were in Katia's room, my comrades started to shoot (from a legally registered weapons, of course) downstairs at the park, actually Alioshkinski forest was under her window. They were celebrating birth of my son in their manner.

Next day, when I arrived again to see my son, First Birth House was full of rumors about previous night events. Pregnant women and sisters talked about hundreds of National Bolsheviks shooting from Alioshkinski forest. My son was asleep inside sort of a plastic box. Next to him, in his own, box was lying Uzbek babe. He had bubbles out of his mouth. Mine was cool.

#3(257), Fabruary 23 — March 5, 2007

Victory in St.Petersburg

We have met inside of Leningradski railroad station at midnight. Kasparov with his body guards, surrounded by liberal looking people from United Civic Front, as well as young, huge, skin-headed Sergei Udaltsov with his boys from Red Youth, and us — National Bolsheviks, who made more than a half of the crowd of one hundred. Later, the governor of St. Petersburg, Valentino Matvienko, would label us as «two carriages of agent-provocateurs from Moscow.»

Some groups of plain-clothed policemen were spread over Leningradski rail-road station building. We were ready to their attempt to arrest us here, in Moscow, but plainclothes policemen didn't move when we started our move to platform. They have let us go. We boarded our train.

I have my seat in middle of «platzkart» carriage, those are the cheapest seats, they are not divided into compartments. Few dozens of journalists have flooded our carriage immediately. Gary Kasperov have joined us few minutes later, although it was almost impossible to move in dense crowd. We were interviewed. I regretted that Michael Kasianov couldn't be here with us, he have intention to fly to St. Petersburg tomorrow morning. Kasianov traveling at «platzkart» carriage could harvest a lot of sympathy of simple folks.

Next morning at Moscowski Railroad station platform was populated with plain-clothed policemen, as well as with St. Petersburg's National Bolsheviks, and with hundreds of journalists, most of them foreign journalists. We were told that dozens of buses filled with special militia forces are hidden in vicinity. I thought that they could arrest all of us here on platform of railroad station, but it didn't happen. Actually we have calculated that even our arrest early will play for our cause, such scandalous event will only heat up an atmosphere for a «march of disagrees.» At 2 p.m. we have started political conference inside of hotel «Radisson» on Nevski Prospekt very near Moscowski railroad station. More than two hours later we all went to a bigger hall-room, because journalists arrived in full strength and very numerous. Again, they were predominantly foreign journalists. We held a press conference, but without Kasionov, who participated actively in meeting of «political conference», but declined participation in press-conference.

Some police activity was visible, few dozens of activists of National Bolsheviks party were detained in regions in order to prevent them from going to St. Petersburg. In Petrozabodsk few activists were detained, driven to the forest and beaten up. But otherwise police activity was pretty low on day March 2.

On March 3, they got their day. When some time after 11 a.m. we started from headquarters of Yabloko party in St. Petersburg we were under heavy surveillance from our first steps. Our column included Maxim Resnik from Yabloko and his people, Sergei Guliaev, deputy of in St. Petersburg's Low Assembly, Olga Kurnosova, head of Kasparov's organization in St. Petersburg, and crowd of National Bolsheviks, in majority activists of Saint Petersburg's organization. Also I was surrounded by my protection group from Moscow, about ten of them. All column maybe five hundred persons.

When we started out movement, policeman in plain-clothes on each corner started to talk in their mobile telephones and walkie-talkies. We were walking without flags and without slogans. Silently, just in order to reach a place of gathering. We didn't expected to be attacked on that early stage half an hour before. But suddenly, armoured police cars (some call them «Hummers» or «Tigers» but their real police name is unclear) have appeared at cross-road of Mayakovski street with another street. Wearing black, looking like a crusaders, soldiers of a Special Police Forces have poured out of police armoured cars. Without any hesitation they runned to me. I understand that as a leader of the advance-guard of march, and as leader of National Bolsheviks, I was their target of preference. My protection group surrounded me in tight circle, so the first assault of crusaders who were making their way to me with sticks, beating and throwing people out of the way, wasn't successful. We got through crusader's chain, although have lost few members of protection group. We have runned out. But they got us near next cross road. Again crusaders have poured out of armoured trucks. That time they got me, as well as eight others, six of them from my protection group. Captured, I was dragged to the bus. Colonel Sorokin's face, the second in command in St. Petersburg's Ministry of Interior, have appeared almost immediately at the bus doors. He was satisfied. He said, «Weclome to St. Petersburg, Eduard Viniaminovich.»

Meanwhile, «two carriages of agents-provocateurs from Moscow» proved to be the most impressive people's street disorders happened after 1993. I could judge from the voices in Col. Sorokin's walkie-talkie. At first voices were jubilent, «everything is quiet.» Then voices changed.»I see crowd about…(hesitation) one hundred…no, more, much more…thousand persons…» Voices started to curse, then they cried for reserves. «Where are reserves?» Audio picture of a center of St. Petersburg was impressive, angry disagrees flooded the second capital of Russia.

Why so? Our publicity campaign was very good. During one month National Bolsheviks of St. Petersburg have distributed 150 thousand newspapers called «March of Disagrees.» Tens of thousands of stickers announcing «March» were glued to the walls and windows of St. Petersburg metro. Hundreds of announces of «March» were made on few radio stations. Of course in the bulk Russian medias have refused to put our ad on its pages and waves. But, anyway, disagrees of St. Petersburg got our message. So more than seven thousand angry citizens came out. Governor Matvienko helped us: from time to time on metro stations, announcers were addressing passengers, urging them, «do not go to the march of disagrees…»

Alas, captivity didn't gave me the possibility to participate in jubilant people's festivities. Although governor in skirt, Valentina Matvienko, have sended on the streets Special Police Forces from at least six neighboring regions, giving order to beat people up, crowds were triumphant, breaking chains of «crusaders,» National Bolsheviks in front lines.

In the end of the day, police have transferred me to a court house. Three of my people from protection group were sentenced to 15 days of imprisonment. I and few others were sentenced to be tried in Moscow. At ten in the evening Col. Sorokin have walked me through the courtyard filled with hundreds of «crusaders,» through arch on Ligovsky street. Hundreds of people greeted me. The biggest street disorders after tragedy of October 1993 ended when «disagrees» decided that they should be ended. We have won.

#6(260), March 23 — April 5, 2007

Kremlin Public Enemy No.1

Police-state is not the same state that is fascist state. Russia before April 14, 2007 was a police state, but it became a fascist state after brutal suppression of «March of Dissenters» on April 14 in Moscow, and April 15 in St. Petersburg. I went through both of them.

On the morning of April 14 center of Moscow was looking like a military camp. Army vehicles, columns of special forces. Passersby were severely scrutinized by soldiers and police officers. Suspected to be dissenters were dragged out almost immediately. I met Garry Kasparov at about 11:30 am near Zubovsky Bulvar. Mikhail Kasyanov was blocked somewhere, so we have decided to go at Pushkinskaya Ploschad, where we have announced dissenters should meet. On telephone we have received an information that biggest group of dissenters have concentrated itself near Museum of Revolution on Tverskaya Ulitsa. We decided to go there. Kasparov's car have passed across the street on yellow light, so a car with me and my security people have arrived to the place of destination near Museum of Revolution with few minutes delay. I saw Kasparov surrounded by police special forces soldiers. Other soldiers were running towards Kasparov. One of Kasparov's security people saw my car and me in it, ready to get out, so he signaled me with his hands, «No, don't go out!»

I didn't get out of my car, to be taken prisoner at 11:50 am.

Following two hours were filled with an attempts to get through police forces in order to get to metro station Turgenevskaya, where authorities have permitted to have a protest. At one moment, waiting to meet Kasyanov and his security people on Trubnaya Ploschad, I saw a column of dissenters marching from Pushkinskaya. It was a crowd about 800 people, and it was headed by… my wife, Katya Volkova. I didn't expected to see her, I was sure she is staying home with our baby. But she wanted to look at fascist state in its brutal face.

I have joined the column, walking rapidly to meet Katya. But huge column of police forces cars have arrived at crossroad of Rozhdestvensky Bulvar and Rozhdestvenka Street. Gorilla-looking soldiers were jumping out of their vehicles. They are furiously attacked dissenters. Women, children, elderly people were severely beaten up. Behind us on Trubnaya Ploschad other brutes, wearing uniforms, were running as a poison-green wave in order to surround us. We have run to only one not-yet closed street — to Neglinnaya. We were pursued by the group of uniformed brutes, as well as plain-clothes police, as my face is known well to every police officer of Russia.

To be short, my security people have been fighting for my liberty these times. But we couldn't reach metro Turgenevskaya. Last time I was identified inside of taxi cab, so again we were forced to run for our liberty. It was real hunt on me.

After 2pm we decided to drive to St. Petersburg. We have driven a car during 15 hours, choosing lost roads of Pskovskaya and Novgorodskaya oblasti. Finally at 5 in the morning we have reached St. Petersburg. We slept in the car, five of us. When we have awakened, we realized that we have parked our car in the epicenter of police force concentration, in hundred meters of Pionerskaya Ploschad, where St. Petersburg march of dissenters should took place. So policemen were walking around our car, probably believing that we are group of plain-clothes police also.

Twenty minutes after twelve we have moved towards Pionerskaya Ploschad. Attitude of police officers towards me here in St. Petersburg was totally different from attitude of Moscow police. They let me in through their police lines. When we were about to cross last line, one of policemen said loudly, «Let in Edward Limonov, he's one of organizers of protest!» So, they let me in. It was about four thousand dissenters, tightly packed inside of enormous police circle. Those dissenters who were not admitted on ploschad were pushed to metro station, through corridor made of soldiers of special police forces. Maxim Resnik, Sergei Guliaev, deputy of St. Petersburg Duma Amosov of «Yabloko» were there, as well as Marina Litvinovich and Alexander Riklin of United Civic Front. I pronounced my speech, I said that March of Dissenters took place in Moscow, yesterday despite the brutal police beatings. I also named four political demands of dissenters: resignation of President Putin and his government; free elections of December 2007 with participation of all political parties including NBP; creation of coalition government; and finally free presidential elections in March 2008, with participation of candidate from «Drugaya Rossiya.»

When meeting was over I went through police lines surrounded by my security people. We went to residence of a friend of mine, Oleg Ushkov, he lives nearby in tiny room at «kommunalka» (typical St. Petersburg huge apartment where half-a dozen of families live). We were rather happy, despite the fact that through the window we could hear police helicopters noise, as well as screams and rush of crowds. Radio «Ekho St. Petersburg» have reported that after protest was over police started beatings and arrests. Then we were told by Oleg's wife, that special police forces started search in building. That they are looking for me. Some half hour later police knocked on the door. We didn't responded. So police started to break the door. They shouted, «Edik, you are wise man, so open the door!» After consulting my friends and my security people I opened the door. I said, «I will open, please be cool.»

They were. They didn't beat me, but kicked and punched my security people. It was not OMON but SOBR, special counter-terrorism forces, masked men armed with military assault weapons. They were reinforced by dozen of plain-clothes officers from 18th division of St. Petersburg's regional directorate in anti-organized crime. They took me first. They put me in police car, where I was seated waiting for something. I didn't asked for what. Then in due time I understood for whom I was obliged to wait. Man wearing black suit and black glasses arrived driving «Mercedes.» He opened drivers' seat door in car where I was held. He said, «I am happy to meet you, Eduard Veniaminovich, I was awaiting this moment with impatience.»

«Who are you?» I asked.

«Andrei Nikolayevich,» said he. He added, «You have heard my family name, I am sure. I am Colonel Chernopyatov.» He sounded theatrical.

«They call you the 'Torturer of St. Petersburg,'» said I.

«Yes, my enemies call me that,» he said. He was terribly theatrical, as some high-ranking police officers often are.

That huge police operation was done only for small purpose of accusing me of administrative law-breaking (misdemeanor). I was accused of organizing unlawful demonstration, as well as resistance to police officers. Both law breakings were supposed to be punished by penalty or arrest up to 15 days. The very same evening judge decided to move my hearing to April 26, because hundreds of dissenters were filling all the court rooms. Policemen report didn't even mentioned that I was taken prisoner during police assault on Ushkov's apartment. Those reports totally false.

On April 18 and April 19 Moscow's City Court have banned National-Bolsheviks Party, as well as pronounced the party to be extremist organization. My wife Katya and my five month old son Bogdan were present in courtroom. I was told that I might be arrested after court verdict, but it didn't happen.

On April 23, one of State Duma deputies said to a friend of mine, «Tell Limonov that the state is deciding to liquidate him. He is going to be killed one of two ways: he will be arrested, sentenced and then killed in prison. Second way: he will be killed when free, his murder will be made to look like a vulgar crime.»

State Duma deputy was happy with this sentence upon me. He wasn't sending me a message to save my life, he sended his message to scare me, to make me suffer before they kill me.

But I will continue my political work. It is my destiny.

#8(262), May 4–17, 2007

History Of An Opposition Movement

Other Russia's Conference on July 11–12 have started processes of confrontation between Putin's Kremlin forces and new oppositional forces consolidated under «Other Russia's» banner.

At the moment of «Other Russia's» creation, old opposition forces (Zuganov's Communists, Yavlinski's democrats, the Union of Right Forces) have proved to be impotent. Not dead, but as unactive as dead. For more than decade those opposition parties were present in Russian State Duma, however that presence couldn't stop an installation in Russia of rightwing Putin dictatorship. Exploiting protest emotions of population, Zuganov, Yavlinksi, and rest were actually pretenders, false oppositioners.

It is natural that when in July 2006 «Other Russia» conference have presented «Other Russia» to the world and to Russia, the new opposition was met with skepticism. Union of ex-prime minister Michael Kasyanov, National Bolshevik forces headed by Limonov, plus chess champion Gary Kasparov seemed bizarre, exotical. But only until December 16, 2006. «March of Disagrees» what took place on that day proved to be a success, gathering together more than four thousands disagrees, instead of usual few hundred gathered normally by liberal and communist meetings, menacing their monopoly for public gatherings, surprising for general public.

But no surprising for Kremlin, as on December 16 more than nine thousand strong police forces were defending center of Moscow from disagrees. Kremlin had better sources of information, so they expected thousands on Mayakovski Plaza that day. Hundreds of «Other Russia» activists were stopped on their way to Moscow, thousands of city dwellers were prevented to come to Mayakovski that day. But all sides got our message: New opposition is born, and it has support of masses.

Even better result was achieved by next «March of Disagrees» on March 3, in St. Petersburg. More than 6,000 people were participating. Center of St. Petersburg was in calamity for three hours. Numerous were skirmishes with special police forces. Despite police forces, despite the fact that communists shamelessly announced on that very day and time their own meeting, despite the fact that some leaders of «Other Russia» were detained, march in St. Petersburg was smashing success. That day, I believe, Kremlin's nervousness on subject of «Other Russia» became parnoia. Because next March of Disagrees in Nizhni Novgorod on March 24 was surrounded by 20,000 strong police forces. Thousands of disagrees were prevented from coming to the place of gathering, nine streets heading to that place were blocked, few hundred activists who battled their way to place of gathering were detained with cruelty. However, «Other Russia» came out of confrontation victorious. It was a moral victory, and moral victory is highest and strongest type of victory.

After that Russian politics became unthinkable without «March of Disagrees,» without counting «Other Russia» forces. Old Opposition, losing its influence with amazing rapidity. Inside old oppositional parties, arguments for joining forces with «Other Russia» were born.

Double hit, when marches were launched in Moscow and St. Petersburg on April 14 and 15 were met by Kremlin with unprecedented police violence. Center of Moscow looking as a military camp, was a field for hunting and beating Moscovites by special police forces. And again both marches were moral victories of enormous power. Because acting president and his police force were preventing citizens from realization of its undeniable Constitutional rights for a peaceful manifestation. Sense of justice, however different for each individual, was telling to simple citizens witnessing police terror in their cities, that Kremlin is terribly wrong and terribly guilty.

By the middle April citizens of three most populated cities were witnesses to the acts of terror and cruelty of Putin's police. Rumors, stories of violence are flowing from now on cities of Moscow, St. Petersburg and Nizhny Novgorod.

Kremlin, like in epileptic fit, reacted violently. Too violently, because after marches of April whole world is involved in watching struggle between «Other Russia» and Kremlin. Russian television's silence on subject become irrelevant, as personal experience, local newspapers, widespread rumors could not be stopped.

Kremlin got the lessons of April. «March of Dissenters» in Samara on May 18 was authorized by cities' authority. However, FSB, all sorts of police were acting in the same way as on previous occasions. They violently worked on the preventing of the march, arresting hundreds, detaining, beating and beating again. On the morning of May 18, 27 people booked on flight N813 heading to Samara were stopped from boarding plane on the pretext of having «suspect, possibly false» plant tickets. Foreign journalists, activists of the «Other Russia» and, worst of all, leaders of «Other Russia.» Gary Kasparov and Edward Limonov were held at airport Sheremetevo-1 for five hours, until the last plane of the day heading to Samara have had left. Stupidity of that police operation is obvious because that detention of Kasparov and Limonov became world news number one of the day.

What is the next step? Marches at St. Petersburg on June 9, and in Moscow on June 11 will no doubt accelerate political life in Russia even further. No matter how Kremlin will behave itself. Their violence will spark feeling of rage, of disgust and that of rebellion. If Kremlin (I don't believe this personally) will decide to not prevent citizens from participation in June marches, it will help marchers to show their real forces. In both cases Kremlin will be defeated. By its own violence or by the show of new opposition's strength.

Second conference of «Other Russia» will be held on July 11 and 12. It will add to process of acceleration. In autumn, finally, public opinion will be massively and strongly gathered on the side of «Other Russia.» The number of disagrees and those enraged by the Kremlin's violence will achieve a critical point.

#10(264), June 1–14, 2007

Limonka: Lugovoy Serves Death Threat To Limonov!

On June 15, the newspaper «Komsomolskaya Pravda» have published an interview with Andrei Lugovoy, who is suspected by British police to be the executor of Alexander Litvinenko. Litvinenko's story was a headliner for the world media for the last eight months and is a still a headliner. Exotical weapons used for killing — radioactive polonium — as well as personalities of both the victim (Litvinenko) and the suspected killer (Lugovoy), ex-FSB officers both, keeps interest of media boiling.

For me, nonetheless, it was a shocking surprise to discover that my name was pronounced by the sinister Mr.Lugovoy. During the interview, he said that political killing is in stage of preparation for «some man, who has already obtained the image of a fighter against existing Russian authorities, he is destined to become a sacred martyr. For example, so-called oppositional candidates to presidency. They should hire themselves an enormous security troop… Edward Limonov, Mikhail Kasyanov… I think against them something is in preparation.»

Lugovoy attributed the intention to kill me or Mikhail Kasyanov, or both, to Boris Berezovsky. He attributed the killing of Litvinenko also to Boris Berezovsky. As I have no reason whatsoever to suspect London-based businessman Mr.Berezovsky to kill me, I took Lugovoy's threat as a threat of Russian secret services to kill Edward Limonov or (and) Mikhail Kasyanov. A few days ago, we discussed Lugovoy's threat with Kasyanov. We both agreed that through Lugovoy we received threat from those who have killed Litvinenko. (I would say, from Government, from Kremlin, from FSB — the executor.) I smiled, Kasyanov was smiling too, but I have to admit that the man who sent us the threat is the most sinister man in entire world, maybe after Bin Laden. So, it is serious. I am cool, but it is serious.

I should take into consideration that Lugovoy's interview was checked out by FSB experts. Hundred percent it was. Lugovoy could not pronounce his threats without permission from his superiors and his final supervisor, President Putin. Otherwise Lugovoy would be given to British for trial.

By FSB's, by President Putin's logic, by the logic of Mr.Lugovoy, Mr.Berezovsky is guilty by only the fact that Putin, the FSB and Lugovoy have pointed at him. However, every smart man, and even some dummies, understand that Mr.Berezovsky is not a nuclear powered country. He is not a secret service with its enormous resources. Mr.Berezovsky has a goal not to convince Russian citizens. His goal is to prepare the ground for possible false explanation of political killing (or killings). Sure, it is a blatant lie, but when the corpse of an oppositional politician will be found, the explanation will be ready within hand distance: Berezovsky.

What will I do? I have planned to buy a bulletproof vest for myself and for my security people. As I am accompanied by security comrades from September 1996, when I was attacked by unknown men and severely beaten (my eyes were damaged), I will have no trouble for adapting myself to more strict security measures. The rest of my destiny I will place in the hands of mighty God. For a private citizen, who I am, it is difficult to prevent an assassination. Looking back at the history of political assassinations in Russian one can consider the following information: Anna Politkovskaya didn't have any protection whatsoever. She was practically helpless under fire of her assassin. Galina Starovoitova was killed in the presence of her secretary. Ruslan Linkov wasn't security man, but just accompanied her. (It is interesting that a rumor was spread that Starovoitova have had with her a bag with over 900,000 dollars. Obviously rumor was spread for the reason to make public opinion believe that crime wasn't political, but common law crime.) Journalist Shchekochikhin from «Novaya Gazeta» (the same as Politkovskaya) was poisoned but crime was hidden because medical report stated he died of natural death. But Shchekochikhin investigated corruption of politicians, and he wasn't a fragile man. What I want to say is that before committing political murder, the murderers prepare public opinion to accept their own explanation. Or they do it shortly after political murder. «Litvinenko was killed by Berezovsky,» «Politkovskaya had enemies in Chechen Republic,» «Starovoitova was transporting 900,000 dollars,» Shchekochikhin died of natural death,» «Sergei Yushenkov was killed by his rival at Liberalnaya Rossia, who wanted Berezovsky's money,» etc. The very best explanation for a political killing is camouflaging it for a common law crime over money. The second-best explanation for a political crime in Russia is Boris Berezovsky, demonized by Kremlin over the last years.

Lugovoy is not tried, but details of investigation of Litvinenko's murder didn't leave much doubt about his guilt. The traces of polonium spread over the London routes of Mr.Lugovoy have convinced millions of Brits and Russians: Lugovoy is not for nothing accused of killing. And now that very man, sinister like no one else, is warning «Komsomolskaya Pravda» readers and world public opinion as to who will be the next victims! It might be a menace, but pronounced by such a man, it is a highly believable menace.

I sleep well. I have good appetite and have no signs of paranoia. But it is a second time for last months that I am receiving death threat. First one was corresponded to me by my lawyer Sergey Beliak, and sent by unfriendly deputy of the State Duma, who was rather happy with message he transmitted. «Say to your client that his elimination is decided in highest places, among high ranking officials of state,» he said.

There is no need for exclamations of my emotions. I don't see a need for indignation. I knew from the beginning that I have started a political war against murderers and criminals. A la guerre come a la guerre, as said the French. No Strasbourg Court or United Nations can save my life in Russia. I will do my job. I have no fear.

#12(266), June 29 — July 13, 2007

Happy fucking birthday Moscow, you ugly hag!

So it is Moscow's birthday, supposedly 860 years old. First of all, Moscow is younger than she pretends to be. Of course, it is vanity that pushes this huge middle-aged «tiotka» (hag) to lie about her age — she wants to be admitted to the respected high-class club of ancient cities. To be in one crowd with such old gentlemen as Signor Rome, Sir London and Monsieur Paris, and such old ladies as Madame Athens.

In reality Moscow was born not in 1147, but much later, in 1382, when Dmitry Donskoi built the Kremlin fortress after his victory over Khan Mamai on Kulikov Field. So, Moscow is faking her years, pretending to be older because she suffers from an inferiority complex.

Russians have had always suffered from an inferiority complex, living on the outskirts of the civilized world. They felt inferior in their geographical position on the globe, as well as in their position on the stairwell of history.

For most of its history, Moscow was a stinking medieval city, crowded around the Kremlin fortress. It was wooden, small, archaical, conservative and reactionary. It was a seat of the patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church, the most reactionary Christian Church on whole globe. It was a nest for all sorts of intrigues, the seat for tragedies, cruel killings, not only those done by Ivan the Terrible. As well as a witness to many uprisings and invasions: The khans of Crimea, Tatar's armies, Polish adventurers, all of whom passed through old tiotka's streets.

Finally, Tsar Peter the Great have built city of Saint Petersburg in 1703 on the swamps of Ingermanland taken from Sweden. In 1712, Saint Petersburg was declared capital of Russia. Tiotka Moscow was frozen in its medieval backwater form for next two centuries. No buildings of importance were built, ministries and ambassadors all were transferred to Saint Petersburg as well as all important activities of Russia, including its trade and finance. Moscow was destined to become forgotten, just as were forgotten her ancient rivals, the cities of Tver or Vladimir or Novgorod.

But Moscow was saved from oblivion by the Tsar Nicholas I, who ordered to build first railroad in Russia, joining by rails the ancient capital with Saint Petersburg. Rail-road connection with capital saved tiotka Moscow from a destiny of becoming just 'dacha' for Petersburg's inhabitants, and museum for the rest of Russia.

Second time in history Moscow was saved was by Germans, in 1918. Vladimir Lenin and his Bolsheviks colleagues were afraid of possible German takeover of Saint Petersburg, so they transferred a capital to Moscow. It was done as a temporary measure, but lasted, as one can see, and will continue to last until new, strong man of Russia will transfer the capital back to Saint Petersburg. Or, otherwise, to a Siberian region (what transfer will give a chance to development of Siberia).

I'm forced to live in Moscow, but I don't like it. Yes, sometimes it happens like that, one is obliged to live in prison, on the war front, or in the city. Wherever one is most effective. I am working in Moscow. My work are politics. But I don't like Moscow's huge accumulation of barracks, of ugly buildings, of insignificant architecture and their second-hand look. Moscow has no style, that tiotka-hag has not even a mixture of styles as do some cities. She is completely styleless. The only city worst than Moscow is Los Angeles.

If not seven high-rise «visotka» buildings designed and builded by Stalin himself, (among them hotel «Ukraine» and building of Ministry of Foreign Affairs), then Moscow would be even more flat, boring and unsignificant. Of course I am not forgetting the Kremlin, but that lonely fortress stays aside from Moscow's city architectural looks, as if it was build by extraterrestrials. However, Stalin's seven totalitarian beauties and Kremlin monument to medieval imperialism cannot save Moscow from its unsignificant banality. I would live happier probably in Saint Petersburg, but all Russian politics concentrated in Moscow, so I am suffering here, alas!

I confess, that my preferred city is Paris. I'll probably live in Paris, when retired from politics. But Russian politics such a bloody business, that you will almost certainly not meet pensioner Edward Limonov on Paris streets. I afraid so.

The weather of Moscow is also bad. When it is not bad, it is very bad, Three months of summer, the rest is various winter weather. I think Moscow's weather was created by joint commission of Ministry of Justice, of Ministry of Interior Affairs and General Prosecutor's office in order to punish Russian citizens every day. I see nothing good in Moscow city. If it will be swallowed one day by earthquake I will not regret it.

There is also a lot of bad people in Moscow. Ex-KGB and Army generals swarming in State Duma, as well as all sorts of lackeys and scoundrels. The worst humans were chosen to serve in Russian Government, in Ministries. Moscow's police, the best in Russia, however count in its ranks a lot of torturers and killers. Even the babies in Moscow are sad and gloomy.

Light is a sparse luxury in Moscow. The sun doesn't want to look at such ugly Russian capital, or else the other countries and their capitals have appropriated our sunlight? Have no idea, but even in my prison camp N13 near town of Engls at region of Saratov, we prisoners have had three or four times more sunny days than here in Moscow. I think that things with sunshine are getting even worst, sunny days are getting more rare than ever.

Also, Moscow is getting worse because of endless reign of mayor Luzhkov. Once upon a time in Paris, prefect Haussmann destroyed old Paris City in order to make it more comfortable for rich Parisians to pass through the city. But Haussmann have also another goal that was hidden one. He wanted to make Parisian Revolutions less likely to occur, so he destroyed the narrow streets. On old classical Parisian streets it was easy to build a barricade in few hours just using cobblestones. First thing that Luzhkov have done as mayor was to destroy Manezhnaya Square, made exactly of cobblestones. Manezhnaya was a traditional place of gatherings for oppositional forces. Situated very closely to Kremlin it was an ideal place for people's uprisings.

After Luzhkov's reactionary job, Manezhnaya has huge underground shopping center, stinking waters of Neglinnaya Rivers' bank are populated by bronze characters from Russian fairytales. Tastelessly, those clumsy sculptures are neighboring with eternal flame on the tomb of Unknown Soldier. Hero of the War, symbol of Resistance of Russians in Great War lies next to vulgar and stupid fantasy of merchants. Disgusting!

Luzhkov or his consorts have invented the Moscow's Day Celebrations. On the first and second of September Moscow is flooded with five million drunks. Quarrelling, vomiting, garbage-producing, ugly looking humans are degrading and dangerous. My advice to foreigners: you should leave the city's limits and take refuge somewhere outside of Moscow. Celebrating Muscovites are as dangerous as hungry wolves.

#17(271), September 7–20, 2007

С днем рождения, уродина!

Итак, Москва празднует свой юбилей, предположительно, 860 лет. Во-первых, Москва моложе, чем она хочет казаться. Скрывать свой истинный возраст эту жирную тетку средних лет заставляет, естественно, тщеславие,— она хочет быть принятой в престижный клуб старинных городов, чтобы тусоваться с такими почтенными джентльменами, как сеньор Рим, сэр Лондон, месье Париж, и такими почтенными леди, как мадам Афины.

На самом деле Москва появилась на свет не в 1147 году, а намного позже, в 1382, когда Дмитрий Донской построил Кремлевскую крепость после победы над ханом Мамаем на Куликовом поле. Таким образом, Москва скрывает свой возраст, притворяясь более старой, потому что страдает комплексом неполноценности. Русские всегда страдали комплексом неполноценности, находясь на задворках цивилизованного мира. Они чувствовали свою неполноценность в расположении как на географической карте мира, так и на лестнице истории.

Большую часть своей истории Москва была вонючим средневековым городом, окруженным Кремлевской стеной. Она была деревянной, тесной, архаичной, консервативной и реакционной. В Москве находилась резиденция патриарха Русской Ортодоксальной церкви, самой реакционной в мире из Христианских церквей. Москва была гнездом для интриг и местом трагедий и ужасных убийств, совершенных не только Иваном Грозным. Москва была свидетельницей множеств восстаний и вторжений: крымские ханы, армии татар и польские завоеватели проходили через старые «теткины» улицы.

Наконец, в 1703 году царь Петр Великий построил Санкт-Петербург на болотах Ингерманландии, завоеванных у Шведов. В 1712 году Санкт-Петербург объявили столицей России. «Тетка» Москва была заморожена в средневековом состоянии на следующие два века. Не было построено ни одного значимого здания или министерства, а посольства и все важные виды деятельности, включая торговлю и финансы, были перенесены в Санкт-Петербург. Москве было суждено быть забытой, как были забыты ее древние соперники Тверь, Владимир или Новгород.

Но царь Николай Первый спас Москву от забвения, приказав построить первую в России железную дорогу, соединившую бывшую столицу с Санкт-Петербургом. Железная дорога спасла «тетку», и она не превратилась в «дачный поселок» для жителей Петербурга и музей для жителей остальной России.

Во второй раз Москву спасли немцы. В 1918 году Владимир Ленин и его товарищи Большевики, опасаясь возможного захвата немцами Санкт-Петербурга, перенесли столицу в Москву. Это было временной мерой, однако, как мы видим, она продолжается до сих пор, и будет продолжаться, пока какая-нибудь сильная личность не вернет столицу в Санкт-Петербург или не перенесет ее в Сибирь(что способствовало бы развитию региона).

Я вынужден жить в Москве, но мне это совсем не нравится. Да, иногда бывает так, что приходится жить в тюрьме, на военном фронте или в нелюбимом городе. Там, где ты приносишь больше пользы. Я работаю в Москве. Я политик. Но мне не нравится дешевый вид московских бараков, московские уродливые здания и блеклая архитектура. У Москвы абсолютно нет стиля, у этой «тетки» нет даже смешения стилей, как у некоторых городов. Единственный город хуже Москвы — Лос-Анджелес.

Если бы не 7 высоток, построенных самим Сталиным(среди которых гостиница «Украина» и здание Министерства Иностранных Дел), Москва была бы еще более плоской, скучной и блеклой. Конечно, я не забываю о Кремле, но эта одинокая крепость настолько выделяется из всей московской архитектуры, что кажется, что ее построили инопланетяне. Как бы то ни было, семь сталинских тоталитарных красавиц и кремлевский памятник средневековому империализму не могут спасти Москву от банальности.

Наверное, мне больше нравилось бы жить в Санкт-Петербурге, но российская политика сконцентрирована в Москве, поэтому, увы, мне приходится жить здесь.

Признаюсь, мой любимый город — Париж. Возможно, я буду жить в Париже, когда оставлю политику. Но политика в России — это такое кровавое дело, что, боюсь, вы не увидите пенсионера Эдуарда Лимонова на улицах Парижа.

Погода в Москве тоже плохая. Когда она не плохая, она ужасная. Три летних месяца, а в остальное время — различные вариации мерзкой зимней погоды. Я думаю, погода для Москвы была выбрана совместным решением Министерства Юстиций, Министерства Внутренних Дел и Генеральной Прокуратурой, чтобы ежедневно наказывать русских. Я не вижу ничего хорошего в Москве. Если однажды ее разрушит землетрясение, я не буду сожалеть.

Также в Москве много плохих людей. Государственная Дума кишит экс-генералами армии и КГБ и множеством лакеев и негодяев. Худшие люди были избраны для службы в правительстве России и министерствах. На совести московской милиции, лучшей в России, множество издевательств и убийств. Даже дети в Москве печальные и угрюмые.

Свет — большая роскошь в Москве. Солнце не хочет заглядывать в уродливую столицу России, или, может быть, другие страны и их столицы забрали себе наше солнце? Даже в моем тюремном лагере №13 недалеко от города Энгельс Саратовской области мы, заключенные, видели солнце в три или четыре раза чаще, чем в Москве.

Мне кажется, что дела с солнцем становятся даже еще хуже в Москве. Солнечных дней становится мало, как никогда.

Еще Москва становится хуже из-за правления Лужкова. Когда-то префект Парижа Хаусман уничтожил старую часть города, чтобы богатым парижанам было удобнее проезжать через город. Но у Хаусмана была еще и скрытая цель. Он хотел снизить вероятность волнений в Париже и уничтожил узкие улицы. На старинных парижских улочках так легко простроить баррикады, используя только булыжники. Первое, что сделал Лужков, став мэром,— он уничтожил Манежную площадь, как раз выложенную из булыжника. Манежная площадь была традиционным местом собрания оппозиционных сил. Находясь рядом с Кремлем, она была идеальным местом для народных восстаний.

В результате реакционной работы Лужкова на Манежной площади был построен огромный подземный торговый центр, а на берегах вонючей реки Неглинной поселились бронзовые герои из русских сказок. Эти нелепые скульптуры стоят по соседству с вечным огнем на Могиле Неизвестного Солдата. Символ победы русских в великой войне и глупые купеческие фантазии находятся совсем рядом. Отвратительно!

Лужков и его окружение придумали праздновать день Москвы. Первого и второго сентября Москву наполняют пять миллионов нетрезвых людей. Они ругаются, блюют, мусорят, представляя страшное зрелище. Мой совет иностранцам: покиньте пределы города и спрячьтесь где-нибудь подальше от Москвы. Празднующие москвичи опасны, как голодные волки.


An exceptional idiocy [Limonov vs. Western Journalists]

British newspaper hacks «Other Russia» story to bits.

I am thinking now that I am working for «Exile» as reporter, being in same time active participant and even architect of Russian History. Thus, the first Congress of «Other Russia» held in Moscow's Izmailovo Hotel on September 30 was planned and executed by Garry Kasparov and me. As to the idea of participation in the comping Russian parliamentary elections it was entirely my idea. I expressed that idea two years ago, and steadily, have promoted it inside of the Other Russia coalition. Finally it was accepted by my colleagues in the coalition. On October 1st, Kasparov and me, we visited Central Electoral Commission and have handed over the list of candidates for elections of deputies of a State Duma. What I want to say, that I am reporter who is reporting on activity of Edward Limonov — who is oppositional politician. Unusual situation, isn't it?

As to the Western journalists, reporting on activity of «Other Russia» they see what they want to see. Very often what they see has nothing to do with reality. «The Observer» for example, in its article on October 1st, have written such rubbish: «In the past, Limonov have suffered of alcoholism and have written novels in the style of Charles Bukowski… Solzhenitsyn with disdain called him 'insect' and called his writing 'a pornography.' After living some time in the US, Limonov have founded in 1994 National-Bolsheviks Party and have called to put all the liberals in the camps.»

When I read above quoted sentences, I said to myself, «The men who write it is an idiot. And degree of his idiocy is exceptional.

Sure, I never suffered of alcoholism, you have mixed me up with Bush. Solzhenitsyn never have said anything about me, although yes, I have attacked Solzhenitsyn in my books and articles. It was in the past, because Solzhenitsyn belongs to the past, and in present he is slowly dying of old age. I am called by many a best living Russian writer, as such I have many faces, and I disregard Charles Bukowski as a boring Californian swine. The United States is not an example or authority for me. And I founded National-Bolsheviks Party after 14 years long stay in Paris, France, not the United States. But foundation of NBP (no party is banned) has nothing to do with the US or France, I founded party out of necessity, for purpose of political struggle. My party is one of biggest and oldest and most disciplined political structures in Russia, despite that party is forbidden. That why Garry Kasparov made an alliance with me. I never called for putting liberals in the camps, needless to say.

My voice inside of coalition «Other Russia» is as important as Kasparov's. I am forced to say all this because «The Observer» is not a first foreign publication publishing idiotic inventions about me. I hope my angry voice will be heard.

I'm stating: I am reasonable, pragmatic man, experienced politician, polite as a diplomat. I have child, young wife. I like French books, red wine, camembert and especially oysters. I eat with a knife and fork. What else? I am not a drug addict. I am good looking. I am not overweight as most of Americans and English. My fingers are long, my wrists are narrow. I am not a bald. I know two foreign languages: French and English. I am able to write in both languages, although with slight errors. I am brushing my teeth every day.

I have spent 2–1/2 years in prisons, not for stealing or killing, but for attempt to realize my political ideas. I wasn't broken by Russian prisons. No other Russian politician have prison experience. If one has any questions to ask, ask, don't reprint idiotical inventions. Just ask. Because you look stupid, dear foreigners, stupid «Observer.»

And another thing: I was married few times to exceptionally beautiful and talented women. Look at your ugly wifes, assholes of journalism!

After that angry introduction I am ready to explain what we are doing in «Other Russia» alliance. By procedure of «primaries» which the alliance have held in 57 regions around Russia, we realized democratical right of our supporters to choose their candidates for the State Duma elections. The primaries happened in August and September. Finally on September 30, we have held 1st Congress of «Other Russia,» where its delegates have voted for the list of 365 candidates to the State Duma. The delegates also have voted for the united and only one candidate of opposition for presidential elections in March 2008. Garry Kasparov was elected by overwhelming majority.

On October 1, Kasparov and Limonov followed by journalists and supporters, have deposited the list of our 365 candidates to hands of member of Central Electoral Committee, Mister Raikov. Bolshoi Cherkasskii pereulok, the street where the CEC is located, was surrounded by forces of OMON and militsia forces. However, they let us hand in our list. Raikov have promised to discuss our demand to include our list, which is headed by three figures: Viktor Geraschenko (former Central Banker), Garry Kasparov, and Edward Limonov. We understood that our demand will be rejected, but we wanted to have an answer. We were challenging the Kremlin. It was an historical challenge. We were refusing to play at their dirty game, on that precise day of October 1st.

No matter what answer to our demand we will have, we, «Other Russia,» will proceed with our electoral campaign. We will stick leaflets and stickers to the walls of Russian cities, will hold Marches of Dissenters, will lunch all possible means of propaganda for our candidates. We will irritate and challenge authorities up to the December 2, the day of Duma elections. We will summon our supporters to vote for the «Other Russia»: they will be asked to write the letters «DR» («Drugaya Rossia» or «Other Russia») across their ballots. Those ballots with improper writing on them will be classified by Electoral Commission as «damaged.» The amount of damaged ballots will be our electorate: the «Other Russia» supporters.

Our next steps I will not reveal to you now. In order to not give the Kremlin time to prepare its forces for confrontation. You will have some information on politician Edward Limonov from reporter Edward Limonov in due time.

#19(273), October 5–18, 2007

Other Russia: Electoral vandals

We will have an elections in our beloved «Rasha,» hope you know about that unforgettable event. This historical event will be produced by a production company «Kremlin & Sons.» Russian crowds will participate in masses. All of them will be obliged to present themselves to some special points in neighborhoods all over our country on the same day: December 2. All of them («sons,» although more than half of them are daughters: middle-aged women and grandmothers) should carry their passports in their handbags and pockets. When arriving at special points of gathering («called electoral stations»), «sons» should take out the passports from their pockets and their handbags and should stretch them out to «servants of the Kremlin.» The servants of the Kremlin will find the names of the «sons» one by one in their electoral book on the table. When name will be found, it should be carefully checked out according to the personal information included in the passport. If by all and overwhelming evidence «son» is person mentioned by passport, he/she will be allowed to receive a «ballot.» When receiving the «ballot» from stretched out hand of «Kremlin's servant,» «son» should in exchange put his signature into the «electoral book.» Group of policeman will be constantly present at electoral station in case if one of the «sons» will be unhappy with procedure.

Receiving a ballot, holding it in his right hand, «son» should turn and should walk to a little booth called «kabinka» (little cabin). One wall of «kabinka» should be made of curtain, not an iron curtain, however, but made of cloth. «Son» should step into «kabinka» via grabbing the curtain and moving it aside. When inside of «kabinka,» son should put his ballot on a small narrow table. Then «son» should take pen (stilo) in his right hand. Stilo will almost certainly be at hand in «kabinka,» almost certainly stilo will be tied to the small narrow table.

Holding stilo in his right hand, having a «ballot» under his eyes, «son» should look at ballots. Names of about a dozen Kremlin's organizations are written one after another on the surface of a ballot. «Son» shouldn't be surprised that he never ever before have heard of those organizations. But he will have certainly know the names of two or three of them. «Son» is obliged to put some sign next to one of them. He will choose the most known name of organization. However, some of the «sons» out of sheer emotion will choose to put his sign next to the name of organization that is known less. Russians call it «democratical» right to choose. Some hot-heads amongst the «sons» certainly will try to walk away with ballots in their pockets, in order to express their disagreement with the will of «Kremlin.» Those sillies (dummies) will be stopped by police, who will ask, «Why you, citizen, didn't put your ballot in electoral box!» Then they will search «son's» pockets, handbag and his clothes. When found, ballot will be thrown into «electoral box.»

«Electoral box» or otherwise, «box for ballots,» is located at the very center of the «electoral station.» It is very brightly illuminated and heavily guarded by policemen. Some flowers are placed next to the «box for ballots» as if it contains a dead body, because such is the tradition of «Kremlin.» Other «Kremlin's» tradition: «sons» can buy some food at electoral station. Food at electoral station is traditionally cheaper than everywhere else. Some kolbasa, wieners, some candies--that is how Kremlin expresses its satisfaction with electoral behavior of its «sons.» So the «sons» are leaving electoral station with bags of food in their hands.

On the very end of electoral day, «Kremlin» will announce partial results of election. Of course, ahead will be placed the «most known party.» It will have enormous support from the «sons» because beloved by whole country president Putin have placed himself at the head of «United Russia.» It is said amongst the «sons» that Putin decided to install two-party system in our beloved Russia: either «Spravedlivaia Rossia» or «Communist Party of Russia Federation.» Who will be that happy second party, it is impossible to predict, as it is «Kremlin's» will that decides. Both parties are equally obedient to the Kremlin. Both have merits. So «Kremlin» looks ahead with full confidence.

However, in such a beautiful and such gorgeous and such idyllic harmony of relationships between «Kremlin» and «Sons» one can see some spoilers. Some scoundrels. Some enemies of the people. Some losers, some extremists. Extremists from coalition «Other Russia» have intentions to call the «Sons» to disobedience. They will ask the «Sons,» the «Others,» to present themselves at electoral stations, having their passports. To stretch out their hands in order to give passports to servants of the «Kremlin.» To let servants of Kremlin find their names in the electoral book on the table. To let servants of Kremlin give them the ballot. The sons will go to little «kabinka» to put a ballot on the small narrow table. To take pen (stilo) out of pocket or hand bag. To take stilo in his right hand. To write across their fuckin ballot: «Other Russia!» «Drugaia Rossia!»

Then «Son» should go out of «kabinka,» walk to the «box for ballots,» smile to policemen, slowly and carefully put the ballots into ballot box slots.

It's over. «Son» can go buy kolbasa if he/she wishes it.

In the end of the day, all over the country, servants of «Kremlin» will be sweating all over the count of ballots signed with «Other Russia!» Then servants of Kremlin will count ballots of «Others» amongst «Damaged Ballots.» I believe, it will be millions of damaged ballots because we hate you, «Kremlin.»

#21(275), November 2–15, 2007

My country killed my comrade [Yuri Chervochkin]

Yuri Tchervotchkin died on December 10. He was less then 23 years old. A member of now banned National-Bolshevik Party, he joined in January 2006, when party was not banned yet. Militant activist, Yuri participated in some party actions. Most notoriously, on March 11, 2007, he and some other members of the «The Other Russia» coalition disrupted elections at a regional parliament in Odintsovo, a town in the Moscow region. Shouting the slogan: «Your elections are a farce!» the group of youths occupied the premises of electoral commission. Yuri was captured, held in prison for about a month, was released on parole and was awaiting a trial. He didn't have a chance to live his trial through. After his release in May 2007, Yuri became a target for the special militia forces for struggle against terrorism and political extremism of RUBOP (Regional Command of Struggle Against Organized Crimes), which is controlled by the Ministry of the Interior. Those brutes, trained to kill, having no scruples, killers by choice and profession, were employed to suppress political opposition somewhere in the middle of 2004. Their new employment, never officially disclosed, was equal to the creation of the death esquadrons in Latin America in the 1960s.

Yuri was arrested a few times, a few times he was beaten by RUBOP's killers in his native town of Serpuchov, located in the Moscow region. The last, and final attack on his life took place on November 22. It was the day after he was told by RUBOP's people no to go to the «March of Disagreers» in Mosocw on November 24. He was found unconscious on the frozen ground in of Serpuchov's courtyards. Yuri have managed to call one of his friends. He said: «I am followed by few RUBOP investigators who I know.» It was his last words.

With a help of friends, Yuri was transfered to the Center of Neurosurgery Burdenko in Moscow. The last days of his life he spent in a deep coma. According to doctors, Yuri had received two «professional» hits on the back of his skull, one of them was fatal. So, he died, almost certainly killed by the state security forces. On December 31, Yuri was supposed to celebrate his 23 birthday.

On December 10, the same day that Yuri died, Russian media was announcing the EVENT. Someone called Dmitry Medvedev, known amongst President Putin's servants as a «son,» was named the candidate for a presidency. Not a big surprise, but surprise nevertheless. Announced as a «successor» a long time ago, Dmitry Medvedev, illustrious nobody, was held in shadow for the last half a year. The master of The Game, His Majesty Mr.Putin, liked to be mysterious. He never follows a straight line, but prefers to move zigzagging. Even if he has in mind no intrigues, his tchekist mind moves him in zigzags.

Dmitry Medvedev is not a politician. He is an out of stage administrator. He lacks the shoulders and has no guts. He will be obedient servant of Mr.Putin. It was obvious on December 10, and it became public on December 11, when «successor» Mr.Medvedev asked President Putin to become his Prime Minister.

When I have heard this on the radio «Echo of Moscow,» I thought that I hate my country although I do not. «Fucking rotten assholes, fucking schmucks,» thought I about some leading figures of my country. «Who do you think you are, vulgar insects?!» Then I stopped myself, deciding that they probably thought of themselves as saviors of the Fatherland.

What should I say? They have forgotten what mighty force are the people. They think they can manipulate our political system and our lives. A small group of comrades from St. Petersburg, untalented and unconvincing small men, following the luck of one of their own. They think they are our masters. But they have been picked up by the most hated figure in Russian history, by Boris Yeltsin. It was no miracle whatsoever. They were just picked up, not arriving at the top of Russian society by the force of mind and talent, no.

Then, I should go back to the life our Yuri Tchervotchkin, young man from Serpukchov, killed by the killers employed by the Ministry of the Interior of Mr.Putin, the President. What did Yuri Tchervotchkin want? He wanted his voice to be heard in order to change the fate of his country. He believed that he has a right to join a political organization that in his opinion can make the better destiny for his country. So, he joined the National Bolshevik Party. That party, in difference from the Ministry of the Interior's RUBOP, never killed or tortured people. It has employed peaceful tactics of struggle, un-violent means. Why you have killed Yuri, you torturers from Ministry of the Interior? Why, president who pushes us to choose his successor hiding his real nature of violent man. If you not violent, Mr.Putin, why you letting such people as the killers of RUBOP walk our paths of Russia? Why?

Take your mask away! Go. Say that you want to exploit the Russian people, that you are drunk on your supposed might, that you are a violent man.

Putin will never do it. He will hide his grimace of hate behind the smile. His is hiding his authoritarian behavior behind totally falsified results of election. He says that he is democrat, but he is employing the killers. I never hated my country, even in its worst deeds. But I hate my country for President Putin, because they have killed Yuri Tchervotchkin, 23. Almost 23.

President Medvedev and Prime Minister Putin both will continue RUBOPs killings? I am sure they will. I hate my country for those days.

#24(278), December 14–27, 2007

Through black glasses (Limonov on Russia)

Russian nation was created by Russian climate and Russian blood.

Contrary to common misconception, Russians living on territory of Russian Federation are not of Slavic blood. The ancient inhabitants of Kiev's principate were Slavic people, that's true. When Moscow principality was created a few centuries later in the 14th century, its population was overwhelmingly Urgo-Finns. Descendants of Kiev's genealogical tree, their princes were originally of Slavic blood. But when Kiev's armies moved north with their small troops, they conquered enormous vast variety of Finnish tribes who lived on enormous territory of European Russia. Only aristocrats of Russia were originally Slavs. Simple folk were descendants of Finns. That is why it is practically no different between «Chuvash» and «Finn.» And that is why Serbs are so different from Russians. Because Serbs are Slavs.

Russians are a depressive tribe because of centuries they were living in shadows of moisty forests. Russians are as unhappy with alcohol as Finns are.

So, forget about Slavs. When you will adopt my vision of Russian history, and of Russians, you will understand who Russians are.

I am the best Russian writer, but I am forced to confess that I hate Russian language. Russian words are painfully long, they remind me of naked slimy worms. You know, those pink awful creatures that you can see on some hot summer night on path you walk. Worms get out of soil to copulate under the moonlight. Russian words are copulating on my table every day and night. I am looking at them with hate and I am screaming. I am gnashing my teeth. Why should put «icheskaya» to the end of «social» in «Social Republic?» Seven letters I am adding for what fuck? Fucking «icheskaya!» Hysterical, hystericheskii laugh goes out of me when I am imaging those fucking Urgo-Finns in their shadowy forests. They move in slow motion, they take their time. Why wasn't I born in a clear lucid language dealing in «Achtung!» and «Shnell?» And when I think that Russians are only a handful of 142 million readers, it's really depressing for a writer.

The so called «Russian Soul» can be also explained by origins of the Russian people. Proverbial slowness of Finns («hot finish lads!») can be seen as phenomenon of Russian soul. Enigmatical Russian Soul is simply Russian man, uncertain, slow to decide, hesitating, never sure of itself, never sure of its own decision. Forest man with a milky skin, with thin blond hair. Not a Slav, but a Finn, Finn, Finn! And don't accuse me of racism. Happily we have Turks and all sorts of Mongols amongst us. But the sick from alcoholism urban Russian Europeans are descendants of native Urgo-Finns and their tribes. They have shadowy mysterious souls because for hundred generations their ancestors were living by the river banks in the forests. They like to get drunk and to weep. Of too many trees, of too much of river's water the Russian Soul is created.

Then, of course, we live in a terrible climate. We have eight months of winter and only four of summer. This summer, however, can be called a «summer» only such on condition that you have never travelled abroad. The lack of sunshine is chronic on the Russia's territory. Everything is explained by its climate and the Urgo-Finn blood. Even more, the blood is explained by the climate. It moves slowly because of the freeze. No sunshine makes our kids look sad. When I was young, I thought almost everyday why «we Slavs» (I thought we were Slavic people) living in such an unhuman, uncomfortable climate? Why we didn't move out of that terrible territory? However, I had tried to move. Our national ideas for centuries was to move south. We fought First World War to capture the the straights of Bosphorus and Dardanelles. We didn't get it, alas. (Before that, in January of 1878, we were some kilometers from Istanbul-Constantinople before English bastards intervened.) Russian man carries all weight of his climate on itself. My deepest belief is that Russia should swallow Kazakhstan territory if we want our children to have sunshine.

Russian women are very, very bad. The worst of all. Russian women is like the Russian Government. Most Russian women at least are good looking when they are in their twenties. Some Russian women are gorgeously beautiful. But they are bad. They are treacherous because they have no moral principles. Christian faith was eliminated during existence of the Soviet Union so nobody taught Russian women morals. No such discipline was taught in Soviet schools. Russian woman hates man because she is envying him. She wants to be as brutal and stupid as him, she wants to lay on a divan doing nothing as man does, but she has less possibilities. Russian woman is disastrous, relationships with her destined to be tragedy. There is no way that you will end happily. You must subjugate her. If not, she will subjugate you. On both occasions, you will lose. Don't forget that abortions and divorces were permitted even in Stalin's Russia, so our country educated women as bitches. Millions of bitches walking our streets. I am absolutely and positively on the side of Muslim strict code of behavior for women. Their system of separation of sexes if effective and healthy.

Russian Government is bloody beast eating human flesh. It is deeply medieval in its principle conceptions. Russian Government strongly believed that Russians are subjects of Russian Government, that they are its property, that Russians should be physically punished for not showing proper respect for its Government. European Governments behave cruelly towards foreign populations, towards Yugoslavs or toward Iraqis. But Russian Government represses its own citizens. Russian Government never said one honest word. Blatant lies, we, citizens, hear from Government. They terrorize us.

Their instrument are police, brutal and unhuman, just millions of scoundrels dressed in grey uniforms. And judges: archaic men and women with terrible medieval faces and black souls under their judges clothes.

As you understand, my view of Russia is macabre, like Lovecraft's work. I hope country will change soon, I am working for it. Then I will look at my country through rosy tinted glasses. Just wait.

#3(282), February 7–21, 2008

Mr.Limonov on Mr.Medvedev

We have now two presidents in Russia: old one is Mister Putin and a new one, appointed on March 2, Mister Medvedev. That idiocy will be formally ended on May 7, when Mr.Medvedev will be inaugurated in Kremlin's seat. But nevertheless, for more than two months, Russia was headed by two presidents.

As to Putin's in his first years of presidency to Mr.Medvedev also could be addressed banal questions: «Who is Mister Medvedev?» Because Mr.Medvedev is not a political figure, he is a practically unknown bureaucrat, one of a huge crowd of bureaucrats surrounding Putin. As Putin himself is a small bureaucrat, one from a huge crowd of «chinovniks» surrounding Yeltsin. If the elected president had been named Zyuganov or Yavlinski or Kasparov or even Limonov, nobody in Russia would have asked a question: «Who is that man?» Because these are political leaders, actors in Russian political play. They are known to general population. Mr.Medvedev, on the contrary, is not known, or wasn't known, at all. Mr.Medvedev is not a leader of political party, he is not a member of political party, so he is not a political man. We can guess that he is a member of Putin's circle of close friends, a member of some inner circle. If he is to be appointed to the post of guarding of their interests, we are guessing that Mr.Medvedev is trusted by Mr.Putin's group and Mr.Putin himself.

So the answer to the question of «Who is Mister Medvedev?» is shamelessly simple. He is a guardian of Mr.Putin's property and of property of members Mr.Putin's group. In Russian criminal world could be found an exact definition of Mr.Medvedev's role: he is «smotriaschiy» — the caretaker, somebody who is looking after the property and after interests of the criminal group. I didn't say that Mr.Medvedev is a criminal himself, he is wearing expensive suites and expensive ties, I said that he is chosen to be the caretaker who looks after interests of Mr.Putin group.

Yes, of course, they have learned the lessons of the modern world. So, they don't call themselves a «komissars» or «brothers» (at least not in public). They have learned how to manipulate public opinion, how to exterminate that very public opinion. For that purpose they took over the most important television channels, the bulk of written press. In order to be able to defend their regime from accusations of breaking the liberty of the press, they left «Ekho of Moscow,» «REN-TV,» «Kommersant» and «Novaya Gazeta» alone, so they can speak out. As Putin before did before him, Medvedev now can say to the Western reproaches in strangling the liberty of speech: Look, we have «Ekho Moscow,» we have «REN-TV,» we have «Novaya Gazeta.»

Oh, those guys are smart guys. And Mr.Medvedev is smart one. They are smart enough to avoid to look as Lenin or Stalin or Beria. Silky ties, expensive suits, I said. Smiles, smiles, smiles… But smiles and silk ties don't stop them from being repressive.

Why Mr.Medvedev was elected? Only partially was he elected, because of massive television exposure of his face and his deeds: everyday and everywhere. He was also «elected» because of simple cheating: a system is called «GAS-election,» a system of counting of votes that is controlled by FSB. We can presume that FSB in the country called Russian will never let calculate against the interests of Mr.Putin, who was pushing Mr.Medvedev to presidency. Some sources said that Mr.Medvedev got only 27% of the votes, and reasonably thinking 27% is not bad for a nonpolitical man running for presidency. For a small, not convincing «chinovnik,» not a communist leader, not a world chess champion, not a popular writer… just Mr.Medvedev from St.Petersburg.

What he is going to do, that Mr.Medvedev from St.Petersburg? Personally, I expect from Mr.Medvedev nothing. The most probable behavior will be filling advice-orders from Mr.Putin. Because Mr.Putin's group is constructed in the same manner as all groups of power are constructed in Russia, including criminal groups. Leader, «Chief Papa», is a head of a group, even if he will have no official post, he will forever be father to the group — a «papa.» Putin is «papa» in his group, just for now it is more convenient to group interests that Mr.Medvedev will hold post of President of Russia. «Papa» Putin will for a time hold the second post in the State, the post of Prime Minister. But, one should understand, Putin will be second on the state hierarchy. Inside the group hierarchy, Putin will always be «papa.» As in all closed societies, «papa» will stay «papa» until his physical death. That is what one should keep in mind when thinking about Mr.Medvedev and Mr.Putin.

Is it possible that Mr.Medvedev will rebel against «papa» Putin? It is highly unlikely. Because such a rebellion will overturn the closed society-group of Putin. Such rebellion will work against interest of all members of a group. Mr.Medvedev was, I presume, chosen exactly for his obedience to «papa» personally, and for his obedience to the laws of the Putin's group. Sergei Ivanov was probably considered as less safe. From my personal observation, Ivanov is indeed less safe; he could have a courage and recklessness to pursue his own individual path. So, Putin's group has avoided appointing Ivanov as head of the State. It was a reasonable decision, I have to admit. It in no question who will be the better president: Mr.Ivanov or Mr.Medvedev. It was a question of who will be better for Putin's group, who will be safer. That is Mr.Medvedev, no questions. I can only applaud that wise decision. He is the best choice for Putin's group.

But, of course, the main interests of general population is to get rid of Mr.Putin's as soon as possible. «Papa» is good for his group, but for us he is not «papa.»

#9(288), May 1–14, 2008

Prisoner power: Limonov celebrates Russia’s ex-cons

Russian summer is short and unpredictable. The only thing that is predictable about Russian summer is that it is short. Usually, the month of May is cold, July is hot and August looks like an autumn month. In 2008, the months of May and June were cold and this half of July was rainy and cold. Shitty climate, shitty weather, only the girls are pretty in Russia.

Russian politics are dozing in cold summer. The only exception — Russian quarrel with Georgia. Maybe it will end with an exotic little war in the Caucasian Mountains. I dream that just as poet Lermontov, I will sing the exploits of Russian army officers in subtropical surroundings.

Prime Minister Vladimir Putin keeps a low profile, he is busy with building infrastructure for the Winter Olympic Games near Sochi. When I was a teenager half a century ago, I used to work in that very region near Sochi and Krasnaya Polyana, where Putin now is busy with killing off nature. Half a century ago, I had escaped from my parents’ home in Kharkov and was seated on the beach at Sochi bus station. I was approached by Georgian middle-aged traveler, who fed me (thanks to him!) and proposed me to go to the region of Krasnaya Polyana, where I could work at a tea plantation. A starving teenager, I accepted his proposition. That is how I found myself working deep in a subtropical forest clearing mountain slopes of trees, so that other workers could plant a Georgian tea there. Forest clearing proved to be a difficult work, really tough work, you know, so after a few weeks of slavery I escaped. Through jungles of vegetation I found my myself to the nearby town, Adler. I was pursued by plantation guards with savage Karabakh’s dogs. But I managed to avoid them.

And now Vladimir Putin is busy putting concrete everywhere in those subtropical mountains. He will put concrete on the exclusive vegetation, over beautiful landscapes. He will forever destroy that unique world. There is plenty of mountains in Siberia, strong, great, awful mountains that can suit Winter Olympic Games. Why destroy the land of my personal memories, prime minister Putin?

President Dmitri Medvedev also keeps low profile. Nothing spectacular was said by him at the G-8 summit in Japan. George Bush have named Medvedev a «smart guy,» but what Medvedev have said about George Bush we don’t know. Maybe he said, «Smart George!» or simply «Oh, George!» Russians are secretly admiring the Yankees, they really wish to behave themselves somewhat as Yankees behave in Iraq. To be bloody and careless masters of the universe. But now is not our best time. Yes, yes, biggest part of Russian anti-Americanism is made of envy and jealousy. Of jealousy and of envy.

* * *

On July 3, my closest collaborator, Natzbol Vladimir Linderman (Abel) was acquitted by District Court of Riga and set free. The court of Riga decided that explosives found in his apartment in his armchair were planted there by police who «found them» in November 2002, a few days after Vladimir spoke as witness at my trial in Saratov. Explosives served as a punishment for his testimony at my trial, what led to my partial acquittal. Collaboration of secret services of Latvia and Russia was destroyed by independent position of Riga’s district court. That is good. That was the first time when a Nazbol was acquitted. Not in Russia, but in Riga, Latvia.

On July 6, about a hundred former political prisoners, mainly Nazbols gathered at the hall of hotel Ismailovo, corpus Alpha, for the First Congress of Political Prisoners. The date and place of the gathering was kept secret until the last minute. We also invited some guests: lawyer and ex-prisoner Michael Trepashkin was there as well as lawyer Sergei Beliak. Some human rights activists ignored the gathering, however. Namely it is was Sergei Kovalev and he may have been motivated by some jealousy because their monopoly over issues of prisoners rights was broken on July 6. We have founded organization called Union of Prisoners, which will gather, not only political prisoners, but will defend the rights of all prisoners and ex-prisoners.

Also, I announced my proposition to establish the Day of Prisoner on September 14. We have here in Russia celebrations such as the Day of the Frontiers Guards and Day of Dessantnik (special airborne commandos), so why don’t we start a tradition of gathering ex-prisoners every year? Almost every family in Russia have someone who passed through the prisons and camps. I portrayed vividly to the congress as, on September 14 near Gorky Park, small and big groups of ex-prisoners will gather around some placards with simple words written on then: Butirskaya Prison, Lefortovo, Matrosskaya Tishyna, Presnenskaya Prison, Women’s Prison N. 6, etc. As about a million people stay behind bars in Russia at any given time, this movement could become a strong movement. Union of Prisoners—strongest union in all of country, dangerous for Government because those who went through Russian prisons are very tough and hard people. I got the idea for Day of Prisoner at the end of 2002, when I was held in Saratovski Central.

On July 10, two of seven of my comrades, sentenced for defending me in April 2006 near Tagansky Court were set free. Elena Borovskaya and Aleksei Makarov. The sun was shining, day was beautiful. Aleksei was set free from Butirskaya Prison really early in the morning, Elena in late afternoon. After spending a few hours with his family, Aleksei was able to arrive at Women’s Prison N. 6, where he was happily met by Nazbols and joined us in our ritual screaming: «Yes, to death!» (It does not mean that we want to kill somebody, but it is only the statement of our determination to struggle for our political ideas even to the death.) Aleksei wasn’t yet 18 when he was arrested two years ago. He grew greatly in prison.

When Elena finally emerged out of the prison gates, we, Nazbols, were surrounded by at least a dozen police cars and one hundred police officers. However, it did not spoil our joy. I handed to Elena red roses. We will celebrate the Day of Prisoners on September 14.

«The eXiled», July 14, 2008

Edward Limonov co-heads the Other Russia opposition coalition along with Garry Kasparov. He contributed this article to The eXiled.

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