19 March 2024, Tuesday, 11:30
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Minute of fame

Minute of fame

To jump out of one’s pants, to scratch one’s ears with a heel, to cock a doodle doo better than a real cock… People would do everything for the sake of a minute of fame!

Sometimes it’s amusing to watch such shows on TV, but to live in such a show every day is strange and slightly creepy.

The “presidential elections” has started in Belarus, and contenders started their race for their minutes of fame.

- Why have you decided to stand as candidate?

- That’s because I have red hair.

- And what about you?

- My husband said me so.

- And what about you?

- I need a job, now I am a social parasite.

- And you?

- I won’t tell you. I won’t tell anything to anyone!..

A journalist Vasily Syamashka brought his cat Barsik to the registration of candidates for presidency.

Barsik is possible, too. Proceeding from the logics: “It’s better not to change anything, as the current rulers have stolen enough, and the new one are to start it once again.” It should be noted that many voters are guided by such logics, and they vote correspondingly. And a cat could do minimal harm. What can he steal? Fish, cream, a piece of sausage… It’s a dream of a ruler! It’s a pity he cannot be registered on formal reasons: cats live 20 years only, and a contender is to be over 35. Otherwise it would be a wonderful candidate. For our “elections”, certainly…

One of the candidates announced that in case of his victory he is to organise a carnival in Belarus. But why should we wait? It’s carnival already! Elections in Belarus are a desperately informal action, abnormal and clownish one. Clowns, fake persons. “A mask, I know who you are…” Everything is false, imitative. We are scoffing at important things awelessly.

And in three months we are to define the king of the carnival, and laugh at meters which are going to read off scale.

To say the truth, now I am especially interested by a potential king. He submitted documents to the Central Election Commission first, and established a lead in this clownish march.

How does it feel – to be the first among the jokers? There are two yes-men, two pavement salesmen, freaks, and he, who considers himself to be a politician of the global level…

How can he understand that he is a mirror, and looking into it every clown believes that he could be president as good as him?

Does he like a prospect to be in competition with cat Barsik by their electoral programmes?

Barsik is not a great public speaker certainly. But by his presence he promises to scare away mice. The same message has the main contender in this election, in fact. “Let’s unite around the authorities, and maintain what we have,” that’s all ideology workers have invented this time. There are no new ideas, the old ones have gone bust, they have not been realized, there is nothing to tell about them.

But how to preserve the things we have?

Plants are working a short week. And it would be better to close many of them.

Inflation is breaking world records.

An army of overseers who at the first command are to pacify the discontented.

A feeling of life on a barrel of gunpowder. Anything could happen: either a collapse of ruble, or a tax on air, or every visit to the outpatient hospital or every address to the government authorities is to be paid for… Russia won’t give oil – and it will be the end for us, if we won’t find new loans to repay old debts – it’s the end for us. And all of that is called “stability” for some reason.

How does it feel, to be personally responsible for such “stability”? To sit on a pan which is being heated, to put five (or six, or ten) crowns on one’s head, and be afraid to jump off. And there is a pandemonium around, and you have been creating that for many years, by all your might: everyone is meowing, cock-a-doodle-dooing, drinking vodka, eating borsch – playing their game of “a minute of fame.”

Was it worth it to be considered the head of this lunatic asylum?

Svyatlana Kalinkina, “Narodnaya Volya”

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