Monday, May 16, 2011
My Dearest Comrade Horcov. Greetings from Motherland! Spring is finally raising sleepy head from endless steppes, sniffing at air curiously like great snuffling bear. It has been typical winter here which means to say it has been the shits. Of course you know of what I speak, being in northern outpost where you are. I am sure that same chill winds that ached my bones travelled across world to freeze your balls as well. In that way we are like brothers, no, under same stars. Do you feel connection? I certainly do. And that does not make me gay, even if I am sounding like that.
Enough with lazy chit chat though comrade! I am writing you with invitation of great import to our glorious Mother Russia! You may be last hope for us. As you know our once glorious hockey reputation is in ruins. Like aging starlet with addiction to methamphetamines and vodka who has had many children we are no longer so wonderful, instead our tits sag and you could drive nineteen thirties combine up into our uterus, except that the uterus has fallen out onto ground. Have I pictured a painting that is graphic enough for you comrade? Our great hockey team is in shambles.
Yes we beat Canada's fifth string team last week and to that I am saying big fucking deal comrade. We then lost to Finns! It was like 1939 all over again. We have great stars on our team and Finns have Miku Koivu and a bunch of nobodies and they beat us! Fuckity fuck Comrade! Ovechkin and Kovalchuk are worthless. If it were old days they would be reassigned if you know what I mean. (I am making throat slitting gesture popularized by big hairy Phil Esposito in 1972). Useless twats with fat bellies and gold bing bing around their necks. Ovechkin lives with mother did you know that Comrade! I weep for our country. No wonder we were embarassed by Canadian gorillas in Olympics. It would be like having little girls leading regiments in Stalingrad, having these two in charge. We would all be speaking German and having no senses of humour of that was the case. It is an awful disgrace comrade and I am miserable about it. Indeed I have begun drinking even more than usual. I know I know, how is that possible? I will tell you how, because I am Russian man, not little fat baby with shaving commercials. If I wanted to shave and look like woman I would have lion lick my face if it would even dare to do it.
I must apologize Comrade. I know that my rage is not becoming. In my defence it has been endless winter as usual and I am cold and tired a little bit. Perhaps age is catching up to me. Plus I think I may be a little depressed. I look at my legacy and I see nothing. I will be forgotten comrade, I believe that is my fate. Everyone remembers Lenin and Stalin and Khrushchev banging his shoe and great eyebrowed Brezhnev. And Gorbachev, who ruined it for us, with his bald head and purple map of Sicily or whatever the hell that thing was. They will be remembered! But not I, no I am like those guys who came between Brezhnev and Gorbachev, nobody remembers them. You know the guys. The little old guy with glasses and big fat red faced guy. See I don't even remember them. Excuse me comrade. I need to get a hold of myself.
OK I am now back. Many apologies for outburst of emotion. I am a little hormonal these days and frankly the drinking is starting very very early. Still I am happy to say that I have plan to fix everything. Olympics are coming here comrade! Here! This is chance to redeem our glorious Motherland and also to make for myself place in history. I will be remembered as great leader who brought victory!
I must be honest first of all. I wanted Datsyuk for job but he will not return my calls. Never mind. You are good second choice, no? And as good soldier I know that you will be, well, good soldier.
What is he saying, you may ask yourself? Also, what am I doing here? With my job and my wife and my big American automobile. Hahaha. That is joke comrade. It is riffing on weird eighties guy David Byrne. I am relieving tension likely caused by my Datsyuk comment. Have no fear comrade, I know you are man for job. We are going to be starting training for Olympics this summer comrade! Yes, I know how exciting! And you comrade, you are the man I want to lead Russian team to glory.
I know you are thanking me already but there is more, as they say on corrupt Western infomercials. Except I will not be sending you second machine that turns lights on and off when you clap hands or extra set of knives to chop chop chop, no comrade, this is even better. We will be holding training camp at my dacha in Crimea!
I know I know, I can only imagine immense boner such news causes you. In between most excellent workouts designed by my old comrade from KGB, er, local Golds Gym, I mean to say, team will bathe naked in invigorating Black Sea. And comrade, it will not be all business, no no. There will be much pleasure in form of excellent Russian vodkas and, best of all, my staff of lovely Ukranian women. They are of finest peasant stock Comrade, let me tell you, they are thick of calf and of waist and their buttocks are enormous, more cushkin for the pushkin, eh hahaha. And let me be telling you, after hours of callisthenics in hot sun there is no better reward then to have them come to you in sauna, to remove their shapeless black cassocks and allow you to lick their gigantic salty nipples.
And my friend they are indeed salty after hours they spend in hot sun sweating in fields. It is one of my most beloved pleasures this licking.
So what say you comrade? I know you will say yes. It will give you new life and purpose after another disaster in your Canadian working place. It is like old days in Russia which I miss very much I must say. It is five year plan that failed but now those in charge say, no matter, new five year plan. Perhaps fucking midget Comriev was right, it is like Communism. Of course, he would know, eh Comrade, wink wink, nudge. lol as the worthless western teenagers say.
Like Soviet, the leaders are untouchable and you have Pravda, er Journal, to parrot management. Only difference is those who are unworthy get sent to teams that win. In old days we would take them into swamp and bury them. It is a Reversal of Fortune, no? Except Jeremy Irons is nowhere to be seen.
The more I am thinking about it the more great ideas I am having. Sooner or later there will be discontent and at that point perhaps if this thing in Sochi does not work out it will be time for me to move on. Tell drug overlord of Oilers that if he ever needs new manager that I might be interested. I have experience and idea of job with no repercussions is appealing to me. At some point sleep eyed ditherer will be taken to woods to be scapegoat. It is good for me to have options.
By the way comrade next time you see Khabibulin give him slap upside head. It is absurd what he has done, throwing away all of that money with poor play and off ice actions. He is disgrace. He was washing up even before they signed him. There is no way he will get money next year what with poor play and being over thirty five. Nobody will sign him and certainly not for any length of time or any amount of money.
Bah! We have our work cut out for us comrade but I know you are strong of heart and back, if not really of much else.
Haha I am joking comrade, just a little teasing at your expense.
I await your arrival with excitement. Remember - vodka and salty nipples. It will be most excellent summer.
Your friend. Vlad.
***just a quick thank you and glove tap to Downright Fierce who drew the totally awesome Horcov pic up top - check out his other work if you have not already.
Posted by Black Dog at 2:55 PM