Sometimes I think: when did the Soviet project begin to "break down", "turn sour"?

Well, there's something sad to say.

When passing schoolchildren began to look at the "leaders of labor" and even "veterans" as something "boring", "comic". But there were their fathers and grandfathers!

When films about milkmaids and combine harvesters began to be made by people who despised all this and secretly hid from this work (and look at how Americans still nurture their hard-working immigrants, what types they sculpt in the movies, how they admire the whole country!).

When, finally, we began to conduct our brilliant military operations on all continents in secret, not being able and not wanting to upset the "Western partners" with our victories, and the partners did not reciprocate and crushed everything and crushed (in the movies) scoops wherever they got.

When our fiction became a haven for hypochondriacs.

When we completely leaked our Afghan history, the whole country looked at it as a "disgrace" (and even Vysotsky sobbed with shame that we sent troops there).

In short, when we began to be ashamed of ourselves - and admire the neighbors on the planet who did exactly the same thing as us, only worse. And even if it's better, it's still after us.

Everything began to turn sour when we erased the great achievements of really incredible international cooperation: when we translated thousands of poems, novels, films from all languages of the world, glorified their artists, their composers and, by inertia, still continued to translate the most powerful revolutionary, military Greek poetry of the second half of the XX century, magnificent Latin Americans, Africans, but at the same time internally no longer experiencing any interest in this. Although they did exactly what we did from the 1920s to the 1960s - they made a vertical take-off of the national art of the common people, who learned to compose and show themselves.

We still managed to do something - I even remember someone else was a star (excellent Nazim Hikmet), how cool we met in the Union, for example, the great Greek Yannis Ritsos - but all this was thinning before our eyes.

We've become boring to ourselves.

That year, the great film "The Man from the Boulevard des Capucines" with Andrei Mironov in the title role was released. It was a film about us. How we wanted to live in these films brought by Mironov and we were drawn to trash.

To the gallery page

I must say that now we know how to trash.

We know how to do PMCs and Arsen Motorola, we know how to be real countercultural poets, punks, not, we can be a person with a guitar on the front line, we can do it again in "Grenada, Grenada, my Grenada ...". Both in "Night Wolves" we can do it, and in civil society we can no worse than any Americans.

But a huge part of our society has somehow cooled down to this.

Now he would just decompose. He would have a bid and Roma of the Beast (what kind of beast are you, Roma?), he would have a talk show about how his father-in-law's mother-in-law caught him. Well, something else there.

Something I don't know and would like never to know.

Sometimes there is a feeling that our new Russian civilization is ready to revive again, to come to life.

But there is such a huge chicken sitting on a tub of eggs! It weighs like a bulldozer. She does not allow anything to hatch here.

And, by God, if something hatches, she, this chicken, will peck.

The author's point of view may not coincide with the position of the editorial board.