Amerbija AI Marketing

Tag: war

  • RUSSIAN HARE

    Or, Bring back my Bunny to me!

    Раз Два Три Четыре Пять –
    Вышел Зайчик погулять.

    This animal has been visiting my cabbage garden every day for more than a month. Is it a hare or a rabbit? He is worryingly unafraid. But I am!

    Гуляет Себе Зайчик, Морковку Кушает.
    Никого не Трогает.

    Вдруг! Охотник Выбегает,
    Прямо в зайчика стреляет,

    Пиф-Паф! Ой ой ой.
    Умирает Зайчик мой.

    Убили Зайчика, Убили Мальчика!
    И что, Морковки Дома Не Было?
    В Россие? Надо Было На Украину
    За Морковкой Пойти?


    The Bunny Who Went for a Snack – innocent cabbage-lover, never saw it coming… a Stupid of the Daylight.

    Well, our boyz went for refrigerators and toilets and carpets, for pillows and mattresses, for gifts for their dear wives and kids.

    They went to Ukraine and never returned in one piece: My Bunny went over the ocean, my Bunny went over the sea, he never saw that there’s nothing there for him to see. No silverlining out there..

    CHORUS: Last night as I lay on my pillow,
    Last night as I lay on my bed;
    Last night as I lay on my pillow,
    I dreamt that my Bunny was dead.

  • 07-Afghanistan

    AFGHANISTAN, 1981

    The term Mujahideen meant by anti-Soviet side “the friendly jihadists”. The Mujahideen are nicknamed “Dushman” (which means Enemy in some local languages) by the Soviets. The friendly, loyal to the Soviets Afghanis was called Shuravi (the friends)

    …I grew up and became a Soviet officer. In 1981, already Captain, I was fighting mujahideen basmachi dushmani in the mountains of Afghanistan, and that was our international duty, I was proud of it, I earned 5 medals and orders, eventually for my heroism and knowledge I was promoted to the Lt. Colonel rank. Then the war ended in a complete, total chaos and disaster in the form of Gorbachev’s Perestroika.

  • 03 – Russia

    RUSSIAN EMPIRE, 1914

    …And while Komrad Hu Weng slept, images of my father’s past flashed before my eyes like in a movie. Winter of 1914. A pipe factory in Russian town Samara. In two huge halls with tall windows covering the entire walls and glass ceilings, fitters and
    pattern makers work in the sixth tool shop, while in the spacious workshop, on brand new made in Great Britain machines, turners, pattern makers, and millers work hard.
    My Father was literate so he read the news to the workers. They were concerned about stories about revolutionaries who had escaped from European exile, and arrests in the city. The head of the tool shop, Staff Captain Vysotsky, pretended not to be
    interested in the mood of the workers, and only the senior foreman, Lyman, who did not like my Father, passing by the animated workers, muttered under his heavy breath:
    “Don’t forget yourselves! This isn’t France.”