Look this smug, sadistic sack of shit in the gullet without retching. This effete, marrow-sucking, cryogenic loon, this liver-spotted fondler, posturing with his sleeves rolled up. His very breath is a fog of lies: he gets winded talking.
The Russian government has classified the names of certain (apparently) high-ranking Syria-bound Tu-154 passengers who perished in the Black Sea this Christmas Eve, as part of what was supposed to be a victory delegation.
Of course the Putin regime has ruled out terrorism. Grubby mohammedan irregulars couldn’t have pulled off a stunt like this without outside support, and acknowledging the possibility—if one exists—of foul play would be too humiliating.
Loathing of posterity by the ensconced and responsible is a salient peculiarity of our times. Dying Germany, ruled by a childless matron. Russia running a net population deficit for three decades. And there is no more United States. All there are, is countries for old men.