At the luxuriously laid festive table, the host plunked a bottle right in front of Basia.
“What is it?” the curious Basia said, reaching towards the bottle. Then she saw that the label said “Putinka” and recoiled with a terrified moan.
“Why is it here?” she hissed. “Did you see this? I almost touched the vile thing!”
“It’s a brand of vodka,” I explained. “This is probably just a humorous postmodern gesture on the part of the host.”
“Postmodern, my ass!” exclaimed Basia who is not a literary critic. “Did you see the host’s shirt? It says “USSR” and has Soviet symbols on it!”
“Yes, but this is probably just a humorous postmodern. . .” I started but soon wilted under Basia’s severe stare.
“Let’s drink to the health of our. . .” one of the guests started.
“No, forget about that!” the host exclaimed. “Let’s all just go back to Russia to help OUR PUTIN!”
“Yes! To Putin!” cheered the guests.
“I’m so not drinking to that!” wheezed Basia, turning beet red. “And if you use the word ‘postmodern’ again, I will stick a fork into your hand. Glory to Ukraine!”
“Glory to the heroes!” I yelled*, drowning out the Putinoid noise.
* “Glory to Ukraine! Glory to the heroes!” is a greeting Ukrainians exchange in the aftermath of the Revolution.
Clarissa's Blog 
And how did they react to that, mewonders? Did they throw you out?
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(Or do we have to wait for part 3?)
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Oh yes, there are several more parts to the experience. 🙂
Of course, nobody threw us out. We barely managed to leave two hours later, and the host tried hard to retain us.
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The problem with irony is that when one takes it on as a lifestyle, one eventually starts to believe ones’ own BS.
It goes from embarrassing to venal when the object of ones’ one-time-no-believed irony used to be the KGB resident in East Berlin, effectively telling them how to run their country.
If they keep that up, it will be “Boris and Natasha maiking beeg trahbool for crasy Moose and Squirrel” all over again, only it won’t contain the rest of humanity’s proclivity to shed blood like it did the last time..
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This is like something out of a surrealistic novel.
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I warned Basia that immigrant Russian-speaking communities are like this but she didn’t believe me.
Well, now she does. 🙂
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They could have talked about Valentina Lisitsa and the Toronto Orchestra.
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I’m glad they didn’t because we are not a culture where mental illness is treated kindly.
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