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Limonov Files February 23, 2007
It’s Me, Daddy: Limonov On Fatherhood
By Edward Limonov Browse author
Page 2 of 2

Protest over, about five p.m. we discovered that our friend Misha, silent and solid young man (he was also arrested with me at Altai mountains in 2001, but released, they have had no proofs against him) was born exactly 27 years ago. So, we decided to drink little bit for his health. It happened in my sort of office, where I usually write, have meetings, and make long distance phone calls. While my party colleagues were arranging table I have dialed Katia's phone number. It was no answer. I figured out that she was undergoing some medical procedure, giving sample of blood, for example. So, I took my place at the table. Cool.

As we were four of us, we bought only one bottle. We wanted to drink only symbolically and then we were ready to go back to our evening plans. We were ready to drink for a Party Glory, we actually were keeping glasses with vodka at our hands, when my mobile telephone squeaked joyfully, I swear that telephone have had unusual squeak in its voice. Katia it was. She said, "Edward Veniomi-novitch, congratulations, your son just was born!

She never before called me in that old fashion Russian way, with father's name added. At first I thought that she is kidding, then second thought arrived that there, near Alioshkinski forest, inside First Birth House of Moscow she gave birth to my and her son I runned back towards the table and we, members of a banned National Bolsheviks Party have drunk some vodka intended to be drunk for a party for the birth of my son.

Katia said I could go and see him in a few hours. She said that old good ladies, doctors at the head of First Birth House of Moscow were ready to make for me an exception from their severe regulations: as I am a star in my country, however negative, but a star. For stars Russia has no regulations.

We got to Jewish canoe. Direction : First Birth House, Alioshkinsky Forest. We bought a bunch of flowers. As a traffic jam was very dense and I was impatient to see my new born son, we bought a bottle of cognac at near-road night store. Of course I was main consumer of alcohol, originated supposedly in America, but actually who cares from where.

At reception hall of First Russian Birth House they were awaiting for me. Old medical assistant: sister smiled at me drunken father, and I followed her into corridors of the House. I was wearing white doctors gown. Then Katia appeared, wearing First Birth House blue marine gown. Then one of the doors have opened and young "sister" appeared, holding sort of half-open envelope, where in envelope opening I saw a very serious, very good looking babe. He was asleep. His skin was little bit yellowish, but otherwise his appearance was dignified. Look, he is like Mao Tze Dong, said Katia. He needs some rest, said "sister," he is tired of birth. Katia said that for her birth was easy. It is lasted only two hours. Despite absence of a pains in the morning, she was ready to give birth on Novemeber 7. Trotski was born that very day, said I.

Oh, no! said Katia, everything but not Trotski!

When we were in Katia's room, my comrades started to shoot (from a legally registered weapons, of course) downstairs at the park, actually Alioshkinski forest was under her window. They were celebrating birth of my son in their manner.

Next day, when I arrived again to see my son, First Birth House was full of rumors about previous night events. Pregnant women and sisters talked about hundreds of National Bolsheviks shooting from Alioshkinski forest. My son was asleep inside sort of a plastic box. Next to him, in his own, box was lying Uzbek babe. He had bubbles out of his mouth. Mine was cool.

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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.

Scanning Moscow’s Traffic Cops
Automotive Section
We’re happy to introduce a new column in which we publish Moscow’s raw radio communications, courtesy of a Russian amateur radio enthusiast. This issue, eXile readers are given a peek into the secret conversations of Moscow’s traffic police, the notorious "GAIshniki."

Eleven Years of Threats: The eXile's Incredible Journey
Feature Story By The eXile
Good Night, and Bad Luck: In a nation terrorized by its own government, one newspaper dared to fart in its face. Get out your hankies, cuz we’re taking a look back at the impossible crises we overcame.

Your Letters
Russia's freedom-loving free market martyr Mikhail Khodorkovsky answers some of this week's letters, and he's got nothing but praise for President Medvedev.

Clubbing Adventures Through Time
Club Review By Dmitriy Babooshka
eXile club reviewer Babooshka takes a trip through time with the ghost of Moscow clubbing past, present and future, and true to form, gets laid in the process.

The Fortnight Spin
Bardak Calendar By Jared Lindquist
Jared comes out with yet another roundup of upcoming bardak sessions.

Your Letters
Richard Gere tackles this week's letters. Now reformed, he fights for gerbil rights all around the world.

13 Toxic Talents: Hollywood’s Worst Polluters
America By Eileen Jones
Everybody complains about celebrities, but nobody does anything about them. People, it’s time to stop fretting about whether we’re a celebrity-obsessed culture—we are, we have been, we’re going to be—and instead take practical steps to clean up the celebrity-obsessed culture we’ve got...


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