Pills of OUR history (7). "I march towards Leshnjuv where the divisional command is located. My companion is once again Prishcepa, a young Cuban, an indefatigable rogue, a polished communist, a carefree syphilitic, a lazy liar. He wears a red Circassian cloak made of fine cloth and a fur hood thrown over his back. On the road, he told me his story. I will never forget the tale. A year ago, Prishcepa escaped from the whites. They took his parents hostage in revenge and killed them in retaliation. Neighbors had looted their property. When we drove the whites from Kuban', Prishcepa returned to his hometown. It was morning, dawn was breaking, and the farmers' slumber sighed in a heavy and rotten air. Prishcepa hired a military cart and rode through the village collecting the gramophones, the kvas jars, and the embroidered napkins of his mother. He had gone out into the street wearing a black cloak and a curved dagger at his belt: the cart dragged behind him. Prishcepa moved from one neighbor to another, and the bloody trail of his footprints stretched behind him. In the huts where the Cossack discovered his mother's belongings or his father's pipe stem, he left behind the old slaughtered, the dogs hanged over the wells, and smeared the icons. The villagers followed his itinerary gloomily, smoking their pipes. The young Cossacks had scattered across the steppe and were tallying up. The count swelled and the village fell silent. As soon as he finished, Prishcepa returned to the desolate family home. He rearranged the recovered furniture in the order he remembered from his childhood and sent for some brandy. Locked up in the hut, he drank for two days: he drank, sobbed, and chopped the tables with his sabre. On the third night, the village saw smoke rising from Prishcepa's shack. Ragged and singed, with his legs buckling, he dragged the cow out of the barn, put the revolver in its mouth, and fired. The ground smoked under him, a cerulean ring of flame shot up from the chimney and dissipated; in the barn, the abandoned calf sobbed. The fire sparkled like a Sunday. Prishcepa untied the horse, jumped on its back, tossed a strand of his hair into the flames, and disappeared."

From "Red Cavalry" (1926) by Isaak Babel', writer and cavalryman of the Red Army during the Russian Civil War. A fervent Leninist Bolshevik shot dead by the NKVD with Stalin’s approval.
"An Absolutely Wonderful Constitution
The theses for the tenth Congress of the Italian Communist Party state that
“the Italian way to socialism passes through the building of the new State
outlined in the Constitution (which is a profoundly different thing from the current regime) and the emergence of new ruling classes to its direction.”
According to the statement by Togliatti and certain other comrades, the Italian Constitution is an absolutely wonderful constitution (...)
Of course, we do not deny that the current Italian Constitution contains certain grandiloquent phrases; but how can a Marxist-Leninist take these grandiloquent phrases written in a bourgeois constitution as reality?
There are 139 articles in the current Italian Constitution. However, ultimately, its class nature is more clearly represented by Article 42, which states that “private property is recognized and guaranteed by law”; considering the reality of Italy, this article guarantees the private property of the monopolistic bourgeoisie. By virtue of this clause, the Constitution satisfies the needs of monopolistic capitalists, as their private property is made sacred and inviolable. Trying to hide the true nature of the Italian Constitution and discussing it in superlative terms is merely to deceive oneself and others. (...)
In short, Togliatti and other comrades intend to “realize socialism” within the framework of the Italian bourgeois Constitution, completely forgetting that although there are some attractively compiled articles in the Italian Constitution, the monopolistic bourgeoisie can annul this constitution whenever it finds it necessary and appropriate, as long as it has control of the state apparatus and the armed forces."

from "Ancora sulle divergenze fra il compagno Togliatti e noi" (1963)
Mao Tse-Tung
@[G] formal request: For purely logistical reasons, our mention "Artist of the People" is only active at the review level, not as an artist itself. Unfortunately, there are reviewers who are evidently opposed to the policy pursued by Comindeb and have reviewed great authors of ours like Carlo Marx. Could we possibly add "In Siberia!" among the possible mentions so that we can avoid, on our part, promoting such atrocities while still claiming the reviewed artist?! If so, Comindeb will be grateful and promises it will be used discreetly and sensibly. Otherwise, we will resort to the traditional weapons of low ratings, despite our complete distrust in the anti-socialist system of DeRango.
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