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Moscow Babylon May 16, 2002
Dyev Endurance Journalism
By Mark Ames Browse author Email
Page 3 of 3
"Come on, let me into the bathroom with you," Olya said, knocking.

"Stay away."

"Don't worry, I don't want to have sex. I just want to hug you and hold you."

"Fifteen minutes, just fifteen minutes more..."

"Huh? What are you doing, Mark?"

The sink. If I dropped the sink on her head, would that do the trick?

Eventually, a warm wave...The sink became a bucket, and the bucket a mere bar of soap in a sock. My desire to murder had faded. I passed out. Somehow I wound up on my bed, with her next to me. I dreamed that I'd done something horrible and that I was saying goodbye to my parents before being led to a Russian jail. I felt horrible for my parents. I'd shamed them, I'd ruined their lives. I didn't know what I did, but apparently it was so awful that my father couldn't even look me in the eye when I went to say farewell.

Two weeks later, I was capable of seeing Olya without the urge to kill her. My reset button had finally clicked. We even had a great time together. Danger had passed. So long as I didn't see her again for another two weeks.

And that got me a-thinkin...Three out of seven days was one of the most harrowing events of my recent life. There must be a nail-biting Pulitzer Prize story there. A good journalist should go to the most dangerous, forbidden corners of existence. For some that means Chechnya or Afghanistan -- for others, it means living in the stench of poverty or among the threatened. But has any journalist ever given thought to the idea of living with a devushka for two straight weeks? None that I know of. Cowards! War journalism, shwar journalism -- I'm jumping head-first into the abyss with this one. Dyev Endurance Journalism. My contribution to the profession.

So here's my offer. In the interests of Daring Journalism, I'm going to hold a contest. If a girl that our contest committee choses from the applicants can survive living with me for two straight weeks without getting thrown out my window, she wins a free airline ticket to Sochi. No shit. Sochi! The St. Tropez of Russia!

Details of the contest are on page 20. I'll just sit right back and wait for the applications to roll in. If they don't, no one can say I didn't try to be a daredevil. If they do roll in, then I've got a job to do, a job that could end in tragedy. Either way, it is my hope that you, the reader, come out the big winner in all of this.

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From Chelni To Guantanomo :

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Save The eXile: The War Nerd Calls Mayday
The future of The eXile is in your hands! We're holding a fundraiser to save the paper, and your soul. Tune in to Gary Brecher's urgent request for reinforcements and donate as much as you can. If you don't, we'll be overrun and wiped off the face of the earth, forever.

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