The army is no longer capable of fulfilling the orders left by our ancestors: it only simulates. It is too squeamish to kill. This is no longer an army – it is a large gathering of pacifists and faggots, who are, in essence, the same.
We will teach them to win referendums. For a referendum is an ideal way to manipulate people while maintaining their illusion of having chosen their fate on their own.
At the helm of freshly-baked, forgive me, independent governments there will appear executives tested and appointed by us. Chaos will generate more chaos. Where this would prove impossible, power will be grabbed by plain old degenerates. Or political prostitutes, dear Vladimir Ilyich. Or simply nothings.
By the way, our nightingale language ranks second in the world in its melodiousness.
The main thing is to resettle the Chukchi in the Ararat valley, and the Moldovans in Franz-Josef-Land, although it would be more logical to put the Austrians there.
If I were a nationalist I would have answered you," you say slowly and articulately, even much too slowly, much too articulately. "But what sort of nationalist am I if I'm standing here with you drinking beer?
To be drunk in Moscow is like having a relatively common hair color. Can you fault a man for the color of his hair? I think not.
You know that we are now allowing free expression of satirical thoughts. As they say, democracy is a beautiful thing, but humanity couldn't come up with anything worse than that.
