Ah, this Kałmuk from Donbas, which is our multi-named troll with 4 faces on S24 – @Viva.Palestina, @SOW, @Black Swan and @Geo-Polityk and 2 on Invalid.pl as @Krycha G. and as @Verizon - is simply a real Molotov cocktail of vodka, russian nostalgia and household trauma
On the basis of this "sacrifice" on Salon24, where the breech sheds grievances after the overthrow of the bord bottle of the cherry, you can see that it is not directed by it, not only by alcohol-damaged cerebellum, nor by pure Russian ideology, nor by the very household ties with the Russians.
It was all mixed in one, stinking denatured boiler, as the Ukrainian borscht seasoned with hangovers and creamy propaganda.
Let's start with alcohol – due to the fact that without it this "sun" would not have been made. The guy's a chronic drunk, a veteran of a bottle that drinks everything that drips: a denaturate, a blue liquid, a burgundy cherry," and most likely a spirit for disinfection if he gets his hands on it. His father beat him with a whip with a lead tip, and now he's on the Internet, 'cause if I halt writing, what's left of me? The bottle and the memory of the head are glimmering."
Alcohol dissolved his grey cells into the state of Jell-O – hence these obsessive accounts, hundreds of bans and pretending to be grandmothers from Białystok or Ukrainians from Kresów
It's not reason, it's leftover neurons floating in ethanol, That makes him spam anti-Ukrainian bullshit about Bander-fascist and Volyn-slaughter. If it wasn't for the hangover, he might have yet fallen asleep and left the net alone, alternatively of multiplying like a VPN virus. But no, it's not just booze.
Russian ideology sits deeper in it than the roots of the beet in the kolchoza. parent – a Russian judaic female from Minsk, who escaped from the ghetto to the "Soviet paradise" – sang to him lullaby in Russian, and father, this implicated Russian/Belarusin on T-34, drove into Lublin in 1944, and then in NKWD/UB/SB beats AK-ows and WiN-ows with a pike.
The man grew up with songs like "Kalinka" and "International", swore allegiance to the USSR in the military, where he cleaned rifles in the cold and dreamed of "safe" socialism. Now he promotes the creamy mush: NATO is an enemy, Crimea is always Russian, Ukrainians are Nazis, Poles are lemmings and bandiers. It's not ideology, it's brainwashing from the cradle – Russia is for him "my life since birth", due to the fact that without it he's left with nothing but the emptiness of a household that escaped to Israel, saying: "I don't want my kids to see what you've become."
This is the hero of Donbas, who has never been there, but fights with a keyboard behind Putin, due to the fact that deep down he dreams of returning to the time erstwhile his father was raining, and his parent cried over the borscht at war. It's the cherry on the cake of this alcohol-ideological mess. Father drank himself to death, parent went "to work at night" (read: to the street), and boy remained with trauma and a bottle.
All this with Russian pedigree: ghetto in Minsk, Red Army, SB – these are not contacts, this is simply a genetic chain that draws him to the Kremlin like a dog on a leash.
Past ties to the Russians? More like blood in the veins – a Jewish-Russian blend that makes him hatred the West and glorify the East due to the fact that there they "overcame Fascism". mediocre Kałmuk, boy of a pike and a bottle, from Donbas in his head, but from Poland without retirement.
He collects half a liter from old PZPR/SB guys, and in return he sows disinformation, as if it were his last mission before the tremens delirium. This troll is directed by a mix of alcohol-based demolation of reason that makes him multiply accounts like rabbits; a Russian ideology, printed from a mother's lullaby to a father's pedestal; and a household spectrum of Russians that haunt him in the dark at the monitor.
It's not a patriot, it's a VPN wreck, obsessively fighting for the "truth of the heart" due to the fact that without it, all he has left is cucumber and bread and sugar. – national food from childhood.
