By I. Rabsckinsky
Look; American peoples. Let me be first to admitting, and to you, I am Socialist guy. I believe in all people not being in mud, in the cold, with Rich Guy pissing on them and giving them rubber Chicken Head to eat. That everybody should be having at least some of the Good, some of the Time -- like your President Guy Continental Lincoln says (Ha ha; okay, not so great this joke. But, still).
This is supposed to be Amerikanyets Way, okay? I am not thinking everybody, including my SmallChild 01 and SmallChild 02, will be growing up to be Billionaire. But I would like them to become larger Childs and ever Adult in place where you are being safe, and do not have to pay police guy to help you, do not have the complete food, and must be always very careful what you say to anybody. And have some Guy telling you to make prayers to Jesus Guy.
And, as Socialist Guy, I am pretty much believing all politicians are being corrupt. To be Bad, they don't mean; they want to do the Good. But somehow, with Big Boys from The Wall Street, and Big Jesus Guys and Crazy Fat White Guys Making With The Radio, Amerikanyets politicians do not listen to People. And because of the Money and The System, you have something rotten from inside, like bad Chicken Head in the jar when you buy from store.
Great-Uncle Yehudi (In Front) In The Berlin; May 1945
I talk about with My Great-Uncle Yehudi. Now, is true that Uncle Yehudi is Old Guy, sleeps a lot and watches The Mister Ed on teevee and remembers 1942 better than 2002, sometimes. But he is also Smart Guy when he talks, and I like to listen except when he wants me to hit him with phone book until he falls down. But still we love him.
So, I ask Uncle Yehudi: Obama -- Goot Guy, Nize Guy, but is Political Guy, yes? So, corrupt! Even though the other guy, OvenMitt guy, is complete Capitalist ashole, Rich Guys will always give us Rubber Chicken Head forever, no matter how we are voting. So why be doing anything? And Yehudi sits up in Barcalounger chair, turns off vibrating MagicalFingers, and looks at me.
"There are times," Yehudi says, "When I think you are guy who gets hit with phone book too much. But this is what it is like to be young. To be so stupid -- that I remember.
Great-Uncle Yehudi Today, Without Book Of The Phones
"In Great Patriotic War," Yehudi said, "We had two kinds Commander. One was Guy who, when you are making attack, he was someplace else -- always, safe. He speaks to you like a man beats his horse, like you are deaf guy. He kisses ass of the Political Officer -- and when you are in the trouble only stood up for you, maybe, sometimes." Yehudi points finger at me. "In life, bubchick -- be Guy. Don't be that Guy."
"Then there was other kind Commander. He talks like you are Guy, he is Guy; okay. In the attack, he is up front, with you! Not 100%, but maybe ninety, ninety-five per cent of the times. And that, you notice. The Political Officer he agrees with, but the ass of that Stukach, he doesn't kiss. And when you are not making the trouble, but the trouble finds you anyway? This kind Commander stands up for you.
"I have forgetting more things than I ever knew," says Yehudi. "But I can smell this guy, OvenMitt Guy; he is just Rich asshole Clown Guy. When attack comes, he will be someplace else. And always, always he is kissing the Political Officer's ass. He never stands up for you -- who are you? To OvenMitt, you are not Guy -- you have no money! You are just 'That Guy'. And this is who the Americans want for their Presidential?"
"You are Amerikanyets Guy, now, also," I remind him.
"Don't interrupt," he says. "And that little Guy with the big ears who is with him -- he will make you to go live in street, while they sell your furniture and hand you Rubber Chicken Head. OvenMitt guy is just Clown in circus -- he is the one they make you watch, while others you don't see take your house and money -- like the Little Guy." Yehudi makes face like someone squeezes his cheeks. "Him, I've seen all my life -- Poland, Moldova; America -- always, the Little Guy. Is the same guy."
OvenMitt Guy Says: Suck On Rubber Chicken Head
"So, what should we do?" I am asking.
"Listen to me. Isidore, you are my favorite Great-nephew. (I am only Great-Nephew, I tell him. "Again, he interrupts," Yehudi says.) You cannot make big change over the night. History does not work like this, unless you get Revolution, and even you know how good it worked last time. So you take the small change that is the Good. And you Hope. But to have The Good, you must fight -- not the revolutsya, but still, to fight. Otherwise, the Clown comes, and along with him, The Little Guy.
"This is the solution?" I ask him. "To be taking the little Bad?"
"Gottenu; Listen to me. Do you make everything work? When you are running the whole Earth, you can get to say. Having the Good Commander is sometimes the best you get. He is still part of System; yes. He is not Messiah; it is not the Heaven. But is better than finding one day that you lie in mud while Rich Guy pissing on you and selling Rubber Chicken Head.
I think. "What exactly is this meaning?" I ask.
"It means, the Cossacks come." Yehudi leans closer; he looks at me. "Wake The Fuck Up."
I, Rabschinsky, say this. To Moldavish Guy; you also.