9 Fun Facts About The Russian Revolution

russian-flag-1168929_1920It’s impossible for me to go through November, 2017 without saying a few words about the 100th anniversary of the Russian Revolution.  The problem is it’s so damn complicated and, quite frankly (aside from Che) dead communists are not all that fashionable anymore.  Plus, in a time when “history” means “last week,” it’s difficult to explain to people that our world wouldn’t be suckin’ up to Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping in the 21st century if a 19th century university student named Aleksandr Ulyanov had stuck to zoology.  (So be it!)  However, rather than kick myself forever for missing the opportunity, here are some fun facts about the Russian Revolution that most history books, historians and political pundits ignore.

1 – The Russians call it the “October Revolution” even though it happened in November because, in 1917, Russia was still using the calendar Julius Caesar created in 45 B.C. — which shows you just how backward Russia was at the time!
2 – The word “Tsar” is the Russian equivalent of the Latin term “Caesar” — which came to Russia from the Eastern Roman (Byzantine) Empire in the 15th century.
3 – From the time of Ivan III of Muscovy (who kicked out the Mongols) the Russian double-headed eagle hasn’t been able to decide whether it wants liberal enlightenment or reactionary despotism.  For example, Peter and Catherine — both ruthless, brutal rulers — are designated “the Great” in Russian history; whereas the most progressive of all the tsars, Alexander II, has been largely forgotten.  Ironically, despite his many reforms, Tsar Alexander was actually assassinated by socialist revolutionaries.
4 – The definition of “revolution” is “one complete rotation.”  That means that if you’re on a wheel and have a revolution, you end up in exactly the same place you started from.  In fact, you can have dozens of revolutions and you’ll always end up in the same place!
5 – What Marx wrote and what Lenin did are two different things.  Marx was a German philosopher in the mold of Schopenhauer, Kant and Nietzsche.  Lenin was a slick, silver-tongued lawyer, lookin’ for the main chance.
6 – Items #2 and #3 explain why, in 100 years, Russia has “progressed” from an empire ruled by an absolute autocrat, Tsar Nicholas II, to whatever-the-hell it is now — where President Vladimir Putin’s word is absolute law.
7 – Aside from Lenin, most of the Soviet leaders who came after the Russian Revolution weren’t actually Russian.  Stalin was a Georgian, Brezhnev was Ukrainian and all the others — up until Gorbachev — had mixed ancestry including Don Cossack and Finnish.
8 – Unlike capitalism and socialism, communism is such a dumbass, discredited political system that the only people who still even pretend to believe in it are college sophomores and their bearded professors.

And finally

9 – Aleksandr Ulyanov was a natural science student who, in 1887, was part of  conspiracy to assassinate Tsar Alexander III.  He was arrested, tried, convicted and executed.  He was also Lenin’s older brother!  This goes a long way in explaining why Lenin had such a hate on for the Romanov dynasty that he spend his entire life trying to destroy it.  In 1917 he succeeded and set up a regime whose ideology dominated political thought (for and against) for most of the 20th century.

Free Old Man Advice

old man

When I was kid, old people always started their stories with “When I was your age …” and then they’d ramble on for awhile until one of us got bored.  They meant well, like a strange dog licking your face, but, since I had no idea what — uh — life experiences their tongues had been through, wagging them at me about life, love and the logistics of adolescent sex was kinda icky.  Fast forward 50 years, and now I’m the guy telling the stories.  Luckily, these days, young people aren’t forced to be as polite as we were, so most of my tales remain untold, thank God!  However, on occasion I do feel the need to bore the hell out of people with some free old man advice.

Never drink Tequila on an empty stomach.  Unlike most alcohol, tequila is unforgiving, and whereas you’re probably going to do something stupid with whiskey, beer and even red wine, tequila will turn you into the Mad Hatter, escaped from Wonderland.  One time, in a border town called Sierra Vista — well — let’s just say nearby Fort Huachuca is a CIA listening post, and even though they’re awfully busy. sometimes they’re very interested in listening to a loudmouth Canadian.

Don’t waste your breath telling people to “Calm down!”  (Does this ever work?)  Once, through no fault of my own, I made a rude hand gesture to a biker, his girlfriend and his somewhat larger companion.  And believe me, telling them to “calm down” was not as useful as the cops who showed up in the nick of time.

Definitely, sweat the details!  It’s never the big stuff that does you in, but forget one condom (twice) at the Alpha Phi Sorority’s Hayride-Under-The-Stars, and you’re in for four weeks of protracted anxiety.

Unless your doctor has absolutely no sense of humour, never listen to your inner child — ’cause when you try to explain how you burned your private parts with chocolate sauce and get your foot caught in the toaster, it’ll be a lot easier if she doesn’t burst out laughing halfway through.

And that’s the problem with old people telling stories — even though they might offer some sage advice, they’re normally pretty boring.

Remembrance Day 2017

remembrance

Tomorrow is Remembrance Day.  It’s impossible to imagine 50 thousand dead bodies; thank God, our minds don’t work that way.  We have words for it, though — carnage, slaughter, butchery.  We try to understand.  We look at photographs of mud and blood and hollow haunted eyes and wonder, not so much how, as why.  Why the hell would anyone let this happen?  And then there’s that strange, weary sadness the spreads through us like a stain.

War is a million statistics, collected and bound in regret.  We’re lucky that the numbers are too big to comprehend.  But here’s the truth of it.

There’s a gravestone in France.  It’s polished white and tidy.  It sits in a field of thousands just like it — in the rain, the wind and the sunshine — and nobody knows it’s there.  But once there was a woman, young enough to dance and flirt and sing in the garden.  She knew where it was.  She could find it in her sleep — and often did.  And every year, while the politicians wore poppies and laid wreaths and swore by all their holy books they’d never do it again, she took the early train.  She walked the gravel path.  And she sat on the cold November grass and ate lunch with her tall, handsome husband.  Once, in the rain, she swore and cried and cursed his selfish adventures.  And, once, there were children, schoolgirls who pointed and whispered, and she wanted to warn them — but their teacher herded them away.  And once she got a letter on fine white paper that asked if she would come and lay a wreath on behalf of “all the Widows and Orphans,” but she wrote back politely that, with regret, she was busy that day.  And every year, year after year, the train ride got a little longer, the gravel path got a little steeper and the cold November grass got a little colder.  And every year, year after year, she remembered what nobody else did — that once there was a girl who was young and in love, and once there was a boy who loved her, and together they liked to dance and flirt and sing in the garden.

Tomorrow is Remembrance Day, as we honour our veterans and rededicate ourselves to forever end the carnage, the slaughter and the butchery — please remember — that there’s a gravestone in France.