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The Fall of The eXile For all those wondering what the "Save The eXile Fundrasier" banner is all about, here it is as simply as it can be phrased: The eXile is shutting down.
June 11, 2008 in eXile Blog

War Nerd: War of the Babies in Taki's Magazine The War Nerd talks about babies, the greatest weapon of the 20th century.
May 28, 2008 in eXile Blog

Kids, Meet Your President A website for Russian kids to learn all about President Medvedev's passion for school, sports and family.
May 22, 2008 in eXile Blog

Cellphone Democracy Cam If this girl was exposed to Jeffersonian democracy...
May 20, 2008 in Face Control

More Classy B&W Dyev Photos Yet another hot Russian babe imitating the Catpower look...
May 20, 2008 in Face Control

Proof That Genetic Memory Is Real! Sure, the Ottomans shut down the Istanbul Slavic slave markets centuries ago...
May 15, 2008 in Face Control

Russia's Orthodox Church Youth Outreach Program The priest is going, "Father Sansei is very impressed with grasshopper Sasha’s...
May 15, 2008 in Face Control

More Classy B&W Club Photos w/Russian Dyevs We took the Pepsi Challenge here...
May 15, 2008 in Face Control

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Feature Story June 29, 2007
A Decade In Exile

If you reach the tenth year anniversary of anything -- your marriage, your job, your prescription Ritalin habit -- then you know what dying is. Gone is the sense of hope and possibility and passion. To put it in biochemical terms, gone is the phenylethy-lamine. Literally: Scientists have discovered that the feelings of love and passion you feel for your wife or husband are just a neurochemical called phenylethylamine (PEA) that's squirted into a region of your brain called the "hypothalamus." At most, you've got a five-year supply of PEA allocated to each lover, or each hope. But like Cinderella's carriage, there's no getting around the time limit. Once your five-year supply of PEA is gone, flat reality takes over. Suddenly the woman you loved and who made your heart beat yesterday only inspires thoughts of beatings today, tomorrow, and forever more. Everything about her or about your job, or your prescription drugs, which no longer work fills you with revulsion and disappointment. That's what happens at the five-year mark. But if you make it to a tenth anniversary granted, you won't make it to the tenth year, because we're biochemically hardwired to lose interest long before that but let's assume you're one of the "lucky" ones who made it to your tenth year anniversary of your marriage, your job, or your SSRI anti-depressant drug habit. If you've made it to 10 years, then you know what dying is. It is dull, flat, uneventful. It is a time to look back and to think, in vague despair, "I don't remember much. I didn't accomplish anything I'd hoped to. I'm tired, I'm going to lie down for awhile." Fortunately for us, we at The eXile opted out of this paradigm long ago. Not because we've spent the last ten years wasted get it? Get the frat-boy double-entendre we're using? "Wasted"? Like, either we "wasted" those years, or we were "wasted," but not in the frat-boy "dude-I'm-so-wasted-after-emptying-that-pony-kegger" sense of wasted, but rather, in the "I've-blown-through-so-many-kilos-of-poor-quality-meth-and-toxic-smack" type of wasted. So much wastedness that it simply doesn't work anymore. We used up all of the neurochemistry that Darwin's trust fund set us up with: all the dopamine, PEA and endorphins are gone. The memory is so ravaged it looks like Berlin, 1945. Sexual desire long ago gave way to impotence, which also stopped being fun around 2003.

But this doesn't mean that The eXile's Xth Anniversary is an occasion to greet with a goblet of hemlock. Quite the opposite. In the paradigm that we inhabit, well outside of your strictly-defined lives, the tenth anniversary is just the beginning. Now comes the real action and the real pain. Yes, for us, and for you the eXile readership, our Xth anniversary is more like what a girl in Lower Guinea's tenth anniversary of her birth is like. It's a time to celebrate, with the most important and unforgettable ritual of her entire life. Yes, it's the day when they hack off her clitoris:

Here is a description:

"The girl is placed nude in a sitting position on a stool. Three or four village women tie the girl's hands behind her. Then, one woman holds the girl by placing her arms around the girl's waist. Two other women hold the girls thighs apart, thus opening the vagina. Other women help. The operator cuts the skin and flesh with a sharp knife or razor blade, first lacerating the skin beginning above the clitoris, and extending the cut down to the small lip of the labia minora. Then, the clitoris is summarily cut away. The gash bleeds profusely. The child screams and twists and struggles in pain. But, the cries are not considered at all by those who perform the mutilation. It's as if no pain existed. The cutters sometimes claim that the children do not suffer before, during or after the operation.

"Next, the inside lips and flesh of the labia majora are scraped with a sharp tool. An antiseptic paste is spread over the scrapped lips. After this, the larger lips are forced together and held there by several thorns, followed by stitching the lips together with thread-sometimes with horsehair." Some people might read that and recoil in horror. We at The eXile read it and think, "Bring it on, baby!"

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Russian Academia Under Fire :


John McCain Is: The Gook Hunter : A movie poster

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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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