Тут газета Financial Times пишет, что это я написал «Словно хуй дроченый в жопу пидора». Мой день сделан, еще не начавшись.

Готово
handful of people gathered
in a tiny bookshop in the
back of a Petersburg
building. A Donetsk Peo-
ple’s Republic flag hung
on the wall and a modi-
fied Kalashnikov was propped up below. They
were attending a reading Alexander Pelevin, a
feverishly pro-war poet, who has cultivated a fol-
lowing writing poems that are at once lewd and
patriotic. “Beg for forgiveness, bitches! So you’re
not chopped up like swines
He was reading, ina
theatrical tone, a poem addressed to Ukrainians.
As he spoke, he squeezed a toy pig that the gath-
ered party had nicknamed Taras, a common
Ukrainian name.
Meanwhile, people passed around trophies:
Ukrainian school books they said had been
brought from Mariupol, the city pulverised and
then occupied Russia. They joked about acts
of violence towards Europeans. Bookshop staff
collected donations for Russian soldiers in
Ukraine. The group was small, and some of its
members were clearly on society’s margins. But
they were drinking champagne. Whatever was
happening on the front lines, at home battles were
being won.
The next day, Liya Akhedzhakova, one of
Russia’s greatest living theatre stars who per-
formed for 46 years at Moscow’s Sovremennik
Theatre, was stripped of her stage roles. She’d
spoken out multiple times against the war. “The
director told me that I will no longer be in the rep-
ertoire, after some letters from enraged people,”
Akhedzhakova told a journalist. sitting and
crying. I understand who’s writing and organising
this, but nothing can be done.”
Hours later, Pelevin weighed in on Telegram,
celebrating her departure. “When the creative
intelligentsia, which hopes for the defeat of the
Russian army, is finally driven from the Russian
stage, that’s only ever a good thing.” There were