I'm just asking. Have you ever smoked a really good Soviet cigarette? The kind available to only the top & most valued members of the politburo. We're talking the guys with the keys and the codes that did their best to make everybody over here fear the slightest political missteps, Oppenheimer's bright light, the final curtain, goodnight Mrs. Kalabash wherever you no longer are, the comrades with doppelgänger-ish equivalents over here smoking foot long Cubans(still brought in via a certain naval base located 90 miles off the coast of Gator Base One) possibly rolled with a rum cured herb from I and I jah friend down Kingston way with nicotine stained fingertips itching just inches from flipping the switch and pressing the button, feeling the click point that sets in motion the final Christmas lights display to outshine all others, with both sides knowing it is all big bluff to line the pockets of those the general from the plains of Kansas tried to warn us about.
Let's just say those smokes beat my Chesterfields to pieces, making them taste like mucked out stall straw from that manger behind the inn booked solid for the meteor shower/tax party those many years ago. Pair them with a snifter of equally impressive "Members Only" call cognac beyond most coop worker's lifetime collective stipend and it is time to reflect on the nature of what would have gotten done if our cultures could have worked together to solve problems rather than merely racing a dog and monkey to the moon. True, a handful did swell and today we have a shared trickle down poverty pyramid assuring most have just enough to goad us into thinking if we continue put our faith in gajillionaire real estate moguls and hunky dudes riding unicorns we all will be better off if we can start just one more war. We've got enough wars to go around for the bottom of pyramid dwellers like you and me but when was the last you ever watched anything good run up to the top. Doesn't work with vitamins, soap, or commemorative plates...sadly I digress.
October last I reached the age of 60. With that milestone I was legally released from vows of silence taken when I became of draft age in 1973. Having long feared conscription and owing to my govt worker father's connection outside of the USDA I was lucky enough to secure a part time position which, up until the time Ronnie drew the long straw allowing him to let folks think he actually had something to do with Gorby tearing down the wall, covered most misc expenses and built up a nest egg we still haven't touched which fulfilled all patriotic duties. All that was required of me was "conduit maintenance" to ensure the continual flow in both directions of what was then jokingly referred to as "sweet nothings" and in actuality was dribs, drabs, and other little morsels of worthless intel those on both sides of the mythical Iron Shower Curtain were certain would further each of their noble causes. For much of that time I was assisted by a certain thick accented fellow known to me as "Moose's Friend." We were of similar ages and temperament and shared an appreciation of each of our respective culture's holiday lighting traditions. Crazy crazy mixed up world.
When our services were no longer needed and he was no longer welcomed in his homeland I was fortunately in a position to make some phone calls that placed him in contact with others, once again in select positions to assist him along his pathway to citizenship in lieu of services rendered. Now it is safe to share a few particulars of that time. From the pen of Moose's friend, Boris, Mr. Badinoff to most:
Appropriate for season of American holiday international in scope and consequences the brief repetition of tale is good.
For the many years of working as agent with supposedly allegiance both to my country of origin and the land of
which you call home and of which I feel much connection and pride my contact of continental US of A, the
managerial bureaucrat of my controlling was young officer of intelligence community known for to me as the
“rocker.” Now with time past and much classified documents free for the inspection I now understand him to be
one and same of man you possibly have known as Mr. Riley.
Little known was of my handler’s nature of truth and consequence. Knowing this one thing was the ability
possessed of him to be celebrating of the Christmas traditions known in my home place as the New Year. Of
much interest and mystification for me was this potato of Christmas. With much irony of my own childhood joy of
“камень новый год” or “kamen' novyy god” which is to speak , Stone of the New Year of which I conceived in
youth at town of my raising. Was most easily method to share exclamation of joy at holiday decorations and to be
saying of Happy New Year. Small letter of thankful expression made to adhere to rock with twist of wire and using
acts surreptitious of nature to deliver on ground to yard of dwelling with lights.
With Glasnost of 1990’s our both countries not so much of spying and sneaking was needed except now was not possible for my being with family at New Year beginning. Literally I was man not welcomed in country of origin while distrusted by many in your country of Wild West shoot'em up. For me much luck and providence as my handler now in this your country fabricated story for of my life as red blooded farm boy of wheat covered flat lands with also the creation of documents of proof. However with this favor all connections and communications must to immediate stop. A sad necessary stipulation for the preservation of “my scalp” as those of you might say
.
Finally now as favor of thanks and joy I find providence to supply you with token of my homeland in expression of seasonal cheer to friend I have never to be yet seen with actual eyes, for both his assistance and invisible comradeship over many seasons. Expressing joyous thanks of cooperation of great yet different belief for collective positive goal. My way of saying, “ Much thanking and wishing of hope for happiest of New Year and Merry Christmas”
respectfully,
Moose's friend of always
With Glasnost of 1990’s our both countries not so much of spying and sneaking was needed except now was not possible for my being with family at New Year beginning. Literally I was man not welcomed in country of origin while distrusted by many in your country of Wild West shoot'em up. For me much luck and providence as my handler now in this your country fabricated story for of my life as red blooded farm boy of wheat covered flat lands with also the creation of documents of proof. However with this favor all connections and communications must to immediate stop. A sad necessary stipulation for the preservation of “my scalp” as those of you might say
.
Finally now as favor of thanks and joy I find providence to supply you with token of my homeland in expression of seasonal cheer to friend I have never to be yet seen with actual eyes, for both his assistance and invisible comradeship over many seasons. Expressing joyous thanks of cooperation of great yet different belief for collective positive goal. My way of saying, “ Much thanking and wishing of hope for happiest of New Year and Merry Christmas”
respectfully,
Moose's friend of always
Always to remember make the tossing of kamen novyy god a safe and responsible pleasure!
