It's already senseless to talk about Iphonchik. Though whether his curators, all these smart-ass yurgens and voloshins don't understand that forcing crowned "to support intrigue", doing it they only support sickening disgust growing towards him.
It's unpleasant to admit but paracriminal alpha-moth starts causing some vague sympathy and respect against this expressive background. At least, it has some vague gender signs.
A boy knows what he wants, he doesn't hide it and has drilled all thieves' "elite" and has forced it to reconcile to his choice.
While our Iphonchik having proudly put aside a leg on a podium pronounces significantly "It is not my choice" in the morning and after dinner, being terrified by what he's done, kisses hand and swears fidelity capo di tutti capi in the interview to "Financial Times".
Let's return support team of "president Medvedev", to that collective Efrosinya who pushed unlucky Dmitry Staritsky to real, not virtual throne for so long.
Probably, forcing Iphonchik to continue saying already absolutely senseless in the context of already solved above problem-2012 liberal tyrant-battling texts, they bear in mind long, or, let's propose, short-long play.
Next morning after May, 9th, 2012 Russia raped the day before by moth on red Kremlin carpet will wake up in Putin eternity. People will start to understand that it's already slammed for ever black hole of the Russian history, such Svidrigailov's rural smoked bath house with inflated spiders creeping in all corners - veterans of Dresden residency and cooperative society "Lake".
Last million talented professionals - the fading wave generated by the Soviet system of scientific and technical education - will leave the country. In 2013-2014 there will be crash of the budget under excessive weight of common funds of thieves in law; anointed will publicly appear not only with naked torso but also with naked back and the problem of final reboot of matrix will arise before "political elite".
Only then people as though suddenly start talking in humbly loosing itself in drinking former Russia:
"If Anatolich were alive, all would be different";
"Anatolich meant well but they didn't let him do it";
"By the way, where's now our Anatolich?";
"Well, here you are Anatolich presiding in Petersburg in the Constitutional court, again chirping in granite that being free is better, than not being free".
"Why doesn't Anatolich come to Moscow to drive bicycle, to play badminton with uncle Volodya, to sit with him on a small bench and to think... what to do further with us, people of Russia".
........................................................................................................
"Uncle Volodya, take pulvis..."
Corporation of eternal life which created mafia anti-market economy, manipulated incapacitated Yeltsin, cut road to power to its appointee Putin over dead bodies of tens thousand victims of criminal Chechen war is full of determination to head individually liquidation committee of the Russian state with the help of much more easier operated puppet. Not in 2012, then in 2014. By hook or by crook.
By the way, note it's not me who named the Chechen war criminal. To be more precise I did it twelve years ago. Today it was done matter-of-factly by person №2 in Corporation of eternal life. He perceived it, named criminal and didn't commit suicide, the singer of our army reviving in the Chechen Republic and now also on all Caucasus. His heart didn't break off into pieces. We should start productions of nails from such people, from collective Medvedev. Their colleagues from Putin brigade - monocelled security officers siphoning oil companies off, speculating with the Chinese female shorts and fronting gambling houses and brothels - have nothing to do near to them.
Those sit silently in magnificent offices under ceremonial images of chekist Commodore, it never comes into their heads that... one day iron Felix shaken by all what he has seen and heard there can descend from the portrait and resolutely get out from the right pocket of the overcoat well-known Mauser...
