When all these collective Russian Bonds cried en masse and started filming videos that Vladimir didn’t know much, and bloggers use your name to scare people?
When HIV-addict Krasovsky stopped wishing for the blood of Ukrainian children and began repenting, admitting he got carried away with the thrill and propaganda?
When the viral video of a Z-correspondent crying about the special operation going “according to plan” is noticed by everyone?
When Mardan breaks into hysteria on air, saying the infrastructure is burning to ashes, and the border has turned into a “sanitary zone”?
When Sladkov and Kotenok lament about swarms of drones wiping out all life, and Solovyov with a darkened face looks for traitors in the General Staff?
When Podolyaka admits in a shaky voice the loss of initiative, and various Romanovs whimper that the command is sending people to be slaughtered without communication and EW support?
And then, when GDP falls for 4 consecutive months, and Nabiullina shrugs her shoulders, saying that Russia is experiencing the largest workforce crisis but doesn’t explain where they went.
When a QR code is required to access a bathroom in Moscow, and to have a VPN – on one side, the bottom of a beloved Russian bottle and fines, and on the other, tenders for VPN purchases for hospitals.
When it emerges that admins of Z-channels are messing with the wives of Z-channel owners, while the deputy commander of the VKS Kravchenko and commander Avramenko (judging by their surnames, “real Russian people”) send them to the storm. And the only escape is SOC, recording teary videos about the honor of a simple cuckold.
And Kashevarova suggests not just to shoot oneself, but to go to stormtroopers, while she collects a bit more donations.
Only a few months of quality bombings of the Baltics and the Black Sea region — and like a hen picking at grains, “cluck-cluck-cluck” sounds different. Right now the fire from Tuapse is visible from space at 150 km.
And what a unifying whimper from across the border.
Russians love to smash with sledgehammers in Syria and make subtle jokes about the heating in Kyiv?
But for some reason, when there’s a risk of ending up in the beloved GULAG and enduring a bit more, for ten years, a lively squeal is heard, like from Anglo-Saxon piglets.
We must continue. Soon. Very soon.
