As we know from folks like Markov, Kirby, Sleboda, Dugin, and other various far right-wing hacks, Russia is a rising superpower, leading a global movement against the degenerating West, AKA “the place where Russia’s elite send their kids to study and live.” Russia isn’t afraid of sanctions. Russia isn’t afraid of NATO. What Russia is afraid of, however, is mimes.
Now to the untrained, probably degenerate Western eye, this might look like a harmless performance artist, albeit one with a political message as his sign reads “war criminal.” Some particularly perverted, ignorant Western liberals might even consider this to be a violation of Russia’s constitution, specifically the right to free speech and assembly, though it is one guy. WRONG AGAIN!
As is typical for stupid, Western liberals, anyone criticizing the actions of the police here is simply ignorant of Russia. This “performance” occurred literally a couple hundred meters from the Kremlin itself. This was not “performance art,” but rather a provocation, an information war offensive launched by a fifth columnist to overthrow the Russia government. Luckily the brave men of the OMON and Russian police were as vigilant as ever. Suck it, Obama!
Remember this if you even dare think of suggesting that there is no protection for freedom of speech in Russia. This isn’t speech, it’s information warfare. Sometimes protesters get mistreated in America. Ergo it’s exactly the same! Except this guy wasn’t a protester, he was a fifth columnist, possibly working directly for the CIA. Yes, I can even see it. I see it now!
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia 0200
Agent Roberts paced nervously, his lit cigarette nearly burnt down to his lips. He moved to stub it out in the ashtray he’d improvised with aluminium foil in a spare coffee mug, but he realized it was stuffed full. One touch and the stale butts and ash would be dispersed all over his desk. Obviously he wasn’t supposed to be smoking, let alone chain smoking in a federal building, but being deputy director for Eastern Europe and Central Asia has its perks. He dropped the cigarette into a quarter-full can of flat Coca-Cola and lit up another. Dammit! Why hadn’t he heard anything about his man in Moscow?
He kept checking his fake VK account to see if there was any chatter about an armed uprising outside the Kremlin, but there was nothing. Just the usual memes, typically translated from English. Bullshit. As he was halfway through his next cigarette, he suddenly paused. He heard VK’s familiar click, the notification of a private message being received. He paused and stared at the screen for a moment. This was the first news he’d heard in weeks. He clicked the message, which consisted of nothing more than a Youtube video. Then he saw what happened to his man on the street.
“GODDAMMIT!” His fist slammed into the desk.
“THEY BURNED HIM! THEY FUCKING BURNED HIM! WE’RE IN THE FUCKING DARK! THREE GODDAMNED YEARS DOWN THE FUCKING DRAIN!”
Just then a frightened junior agent who had heard the commotion cautiously poked his head in the door.
“Sir! What happened? Who got burned?”
“OUR MIME! THEY BURNED OUR MIME!”
Roberts watched the junior man’s face as the gravity of the news sunk in. He took a deep breath, and then regained his calm.
“Back to square one,” he said.