Read Online The Sacred Book of the Werewolf by Victor Pelevin - Free Book Online
Authors: Victor Pelevin
Tags: Fiction, Literary, General, Romance, Fantasy, Contemporary, Paranormal, Werewolves, Russia (Federation), Prostitutes
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twenty-five per cent. And that was with all the horrors of war. But between 1990 and 1999 it slumped by over half . . . worse than Genghis Khan and Hitler taken together. And that’s not just commie propaganda and lies. It’s what Joseph Stieglitz writes - the chief economist of the World Bank and a Nobel Prize winner. Have you read Globalisation and its Discontents ? What a terrifying book! And America doesn’t even need the atom bomb, because it has the World Trade Organization and the International Monetary Fund . . .’
I actually began to forget what I was doing there in his apartment, and only the leather knout lying on the table between us reminded me of it. It soon emerged that Pavel Ivanovich’s repentance was total, embracing not only the economic aspect of the Russian reforms, but also the cultural history of the last few decades.
‘Did you know,’ he said, staring keenly into my eyes, ‘that the CIA actually financed the beatnik movement and the psychological revolution? The goal was to create an attractive image of the West for our youth. They wanted to pretend that America has fun. So they did - and for a while they even believed it themselves. But the funniest thing of all is that all these children of LSD generals who tried KGB and strove so hard to copy the beatniks really were doing just what the CIA wanted, that is, they were committing the very sin the Party accused them of! And they were the future intelligentsia, the nerve system of the nation . . .’
In speaking of the intelligentsia’s debt of guilt to the nation, he kept using two terms that I thought were synonyms - ‘intelligentsia’ and ‘intellectuals’. After a while I just had to ask:
‘But what difference is there between a member of the intelligentsia and an intellectual?’
‘There’s a very big difference,’ he replied. ‘I can only try to explain it allegorically. Do you understand what that means?’
I nodded.
‘When you were still very little, there were a hundred thousand people living in this city who were paid for kissing the ass of a loathsome red dragon - which you probably don’t even remember . . .’
I shook my head. Once in my young days I really had seen a red dragon, but I’d already forgotten what it looked like - the only thing I could remember was my own fear. It was unlikely that Pavel Ivanovich had that incident in mind.
‘Of course, those hundred thousand people hated the dragon, and they dreamed of being ruled by the green toad who fought against the dragon. So, anyway, they came to an arrangement with the toad, poisoned the dragon with lipstick that they got from the CIA and started living a new life.’
‘But what have the intell -’
‘Wait,’ he said, raising his hand. ‘At first they thought that under the toad they would be doing exactly the same as before, only they’d get ten times as much money for it. But it turned out that instead of a hundred thousand ass-kissers there was only a demand for three professionals working in three eight-hour shifts to give the toad a never-ending royal blowjob. And which of the hundred thousand those three would be, would be decided by an open competition, in which candidates would not only have to demonstrate their advanced professional skills, but also the ability to smile optimistically with the corners of their mouths while they were at work . . .’
‘I’m afraid I’ve lost the thread.’
‘Well, this is the thread. Those hundred thousand people were called the intelligentsia. And those three are called intellectuals.’
I have one quirk that is rather hard to explain. I can’t stand it when anyone uses the word blowjob in my presence - outside the context of work, at least. I don’t know why, but it just drives me wild. And in addition, Pavel Ivanovich’s explanation seemed like such a crude, boorish hint at my own profession that I even forgot about the additional fee I’d been planning to ask for.
‘Are you
I actually began to forget what I was doing there in his apartment, and only the leather knout lying on the table between us reminded me of it. It soon emerged that Pavel Ivanovich’s repentance was total, embracing not only the economic aspect of the Russian reforms, but also the cultural history of the last few decades.
‘Did you know,’ he said, staring keenly into my eyes, ‘that the CIA actually financed the beatnik movement and the psychological revolution? The goal was to create an attractive image of the West for our youth. They wanted to pretend that America has fun. So they did - and for a while they even believed it themselves. But the funniest thing of all is that all these children of LSD generals who tried KGB and strove so hard to copy the beatniks really were doing just what the CIA wanted, that is, they were committing the very sin the Party accused them of! And they were the future intelligentsia, the nerve system of the nation . . .’
In speaking of the intelligentsia’s debt of guilt to the nation, he kept using two terms that I thought were synonyms - ‘intelligentsia’ and ‘intellectuals’. After a while I just had to ask:
‘But what difference is there between a member of the intelligentsia and an intellectual?’
‘There’s a very big difference,’ he replied. ‘I can only try to explain it allegorically. Do you understand what that means?’
I nodded.
‘When you were still very little, there were a hundred thousand people living in this city who were paid for kissing the ass of a loathsome red dragon - which you probably don’t even remember . . .’
I shook my head. Once in my young days I really had seen a red dragon, but I’d already forgotten what it looked like - the only thing I could remember was my own fear. It was unlikely that Pavel Ivanovich had that incident in mind.
‘Of course, those hundred thousand people hated the dragon, and they dreamed of being ruled by the green toad who fought against the dragon. So, anyway, they came to an arrangement with the toad, poisoned the dragon with lipstick that they got from the CIA and started living a new life.’
‘But what have the intell -’
‘Wait,’ he said, raising his hand. ‘At first they thought that under the toad they would be doing exactly the same as before, only they’d get ten times as much money for it. But it turned out that instead of a hundred thousand ass-kissers there was only a demand for three professionals working in three eight-hour shifts to give the toad a never-ending royal blowjob. And which of the hundred thousand those three would be, would be decided by an open competition, in which candidates would not only have to demonstrate their advanced professional skills, but also the ability to smile optimistically with the corners of their mouths while they were at work . . .’
‘I’m afraid I’ve lost the thread.’
‘Well, this is the thread. Those hundred thousand people were called the intelligentsia. And those three are called intellectuals.’
I have one quirk that is rather hard to explain. I can’t stand it when anyone uses the word blowjob in my presence - outside the context of work, at least. I don’t know why, but it just drives me wild. And in addition, Pavel Ivanovich’s explanation seemed like such a crude, boorish hint at my own profession that I even forgot about the additional fee I’d been planning to ask for.
‘Are you
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