Philip Kirkorov has been unable to sleep in recent days.
The uncrowned king of the Russian stage is spinning in a big bed and trembling: even if Lithuania will forbid him from entering the small, proud republic.
Kirkorov, however, can relax, and here's why.
Firstly, he is not the only one in the new black list of the Lithuanian Foreign Ministry - Mikhail Shufutinsky was also among the unwanted, who, unlike the vulnerable Philip, cursed and recalled: "I am a US citizen."
Secondly, it is not the first time that Lithuania has made an attempt to close Kirkorov's entrance - and here, perhaps, we can safely say about an obsession, because indeed: the singer with feathers on his head surrendered to them, he, in all honesty, and at home despite the high title "People's Artist", he is not perceived as a real figure like the late Joseph Kobzon.
Almost three years ago, while in Vilnius, Kirkorov voted at the Russian embassy in the presidential elections and inadvertently declared: “I am in the territory that was once called the Soviet Union.
We are now divided.
But, being here on tour now, I understand that there are no boundaries for music. "
The words of the artist were perceived by the Lithuanian authorities as "Kremlin propaganda", which has long set the teeth on edge.
Really, how much can you see a reflection of Putin's will in any word of a more or less famous person in Russia?
In Lithuania, from the first day of separation from the USSR (it's time to remind you that Lithuania was the first republic to flee the Red Empire), they are convinced that Russia is preparing day and night for the next "peace enforcement", is building up a military contingent in the Kaliningrad region for a sudden and, naturally , a treacherous attack on a tiny state with a population of three million: the Moscow Metro carries two and a half times more passengers per day - for comparison.
To us here in Russia, who do not have any complexes about the size, the words of Lithuanian politicians and diplomats are echoed only with a condescending grin on our face.
But it is not at all funny when Lithuania - in fact, one of the most (if not the most) amusing countries in Europe - begins to pose as a great power, whose orders, for some reason, must be carried out at the first click.
Russia would have forgotten Lithuania long ago, like hundreds of other small and worthless states, if Lithuania had not been buzzing around for the past 30 years.
An evil Russian (that is, of course, Soviet) soldier is about to open the door of the house of an ordinary Lithuanian peasant with a dirty boot and take his entire family to the GULAG - horror stories that are approved by the Lithuanian president at the level of state doctrine every single year.
Lithuania - I really want to repeat, but so as not to offend - a tiny state with huge complexes and, consequently, big ambitions.
Lithuanian presidents - faces and surnames change, but not rhetoric - dream of being a part of the world political establishment, like an unlucky child makes the bed in time to please father and mother, whose role for Lithuania is the blessed United States of America.
The United States, by the way, has its own reason to cherish and pat Lithuania on the head.
It is convenient to use someone else's hands to spoil your main enemy, especially when a faithful performer fully shares your wet fantasies and is ready to selflessly serve for a small price list: Lithuania's pettiness is not just a national feature of a state of misunderstanding, one can safely say, has long become a sacred symbol.
Just think: the hysterical statement of the Lithuanian Ministry of Foreign Affairs about the terrible Philip Kirkorov and the slightly less vicious Mikhail Shufutinsky (the grandfather in history is the most sorry for anyone) appeared after the news about compensation to the organizers of concerts of Russian stars who suffered losses after the cancellation of all events due to the pandemic.
The price of the scandal: € 41 thousand - money, which, one must think, Kirkorov and Shufutinsky are ready to lay out from their pockets at any time, if only the Baltic bailiffs would get rid of them.
They clung to Kirkorov and Shufutinsky (both, by the way, have dual citizenship), which is important, because of concerts in Crimea.
When Lithuanian mercenaries kill Russians in Donbass, it is a struggle for the integrity of Ukraine;
when Kirkorov sings "My Bunny" in Crimea - "a deliberate denial of sovereignty" of the same Ukraine.
The main thing is not to confuse.
It would seem, what does petty Lithuania care about what is happening in Ukraine or Belarus, but it creeps in, and hardly of its own free will.
Lithuania was the first (in general, the Lithuanian bosses have an incredible ability to be the first in all disgusting matters - during the Second World War, Lithuanians killed Russians and Jews in the front ranks of the Nazis) to recognize the “Mrs. President” Svetlana Tikhanovskaya, making her an icon of Belarusian protest.
It was in Lithuania that Tikhanovskaya last year intended to put on trial the Belarusian security officials who were allegedly caught in the "bloody" dispersal of demonstrators.
After another failure in Minsk, the idea of a people's tribunal was worn out, but not without loud exclamations of the Baltic trio, Lukashenka was taken away from the world ice hockey championship, depriving thousands of ordinary Belarusians of the opportunity to earn money during the tournament - Lithuania's pettiness reappeared in full growth.
Lithuania's absurd attempts to bite Russia and loudly proclaim: they say, we exist, look, we are here, we are strong, we will show you now - every time they turn into embarrassment.
I will note that the complacent Kirkorov, I note, is now and then pinched in his native land - a couple of years ago there was a petition demanding to deprive him of his honorary title for his participation in the vulgar video for the song "The Color of the Mood is Blue" - but these were the intrigues of local madmen, not an independent state - for a minute, a member of NATO and the EU.
Although what country, such and, God forgive me, sanctions.
The author's point of view may not coincide with the position of the editorial board.