Deadstick
Platinum Member
This from Medvedev says it all, for a long time this Man was thought of as a moderate on the Russian political stage, the west loved him they thought he was another Yeltsin, then he woke up and found out what devils he was dealing with.
itten by Dmitry Medvedev, deputy chairman of the Security Council of Russia, former President of the Russian Federation
The plight of the Western political class is sometimes sad, often hilarious, and, on occasion, sinister.
Soap opera clowns, completely uninterested in genuine public service, control the lives of millions of unfortunates, including the soldiers they send to a certain death.
A group of clueless freaks, the latest iteration of their fascist forebearers, sit in the Reichstag. They demand that long-range missiles be sent to their neo-Nazi offspring, thereby inviting even longer-range missiles to fall on their heads.
Doddery political has-beens shuffle on and off stage, shake hands with ghosts and embrace greedy whores in the guise of widows of deceased intelligence assets.
Anniversaries of the SWO are marked by Western prostitutes jetting in and out of Kiev, in futile attempts to distract electorates from their burgeoning poverty. The leaders of the free world eagerly lick the dirty boots of their American master, in an ecstasy of servility.
The petty and tragic heirs of Bonaparte, donning the golden epaulettes torn off two hundred years ago, are eager for revenge. With faux Napoleonic grandeur, they make empty threats about punishing Russia, and sending non-existent NATO armies to rescue their Ukrainian lackies.
The stench of the decayed brains of Western politicians is more noxious every day. And so the pale horse and his ghostly rider approaches….
itten by Dmitry Medvedev, deputy chairman of the Security Council of Russia, former President of the Russian Federation
The plight of the Western political class is sometimes sad, often hilarious, and, on occasion, sinister.
Soap opera clowns, completely uninterested in genuine public service, control the lives of millions of unfortunates, including the soldiers they send to a certain death.
A group of clueless freaks, the latest iteration of their fascist forebearers, sit in the Reichstag. They demand that long-range missiles be sent to their neo-Nazi offspring, thereby inviting even longer-range missiles to fall on their heads.
Doddery political has-beens shuffle on and off stage, shake hands with ghosts and embrace greedy whores in the guise of widows of deceased intelligence assets.
Anniversaries of the SWO are marked by Western prostitutes jetting in and out of Kiev, in futile attempts to distract electorates from their burgeoning poverty. The leaders of the free world eagerly lick the dirty boots of their American master, in an ecstasy of servility.
The petty and tragic heirs of Bonaparte, donning the golden epaulettes torn off two hundred years ago, are eager for revenge. With faux Napoleonic grandeur, they make empty threats about punishing Russia, and sending non-existent NATO armies to rescue their Ukrainian lackies.
The stench of the decayed brains of Western politicians is more noxious every day. And so the pale horse and his ghostly rider approaches….
