The cone of shame
It’s amusing to note that the most lurid Cold War fantasies of covert propaganda spread on behalf of Ukraine by veterans of Operation Iraqi Freedom are being rendered irrelevant by a tweeting horde of special correspondents now serving it up for free every day. No need for black ops when you’ve got a blue tick.
Making people care is surely one of the highest callings, right up there with feeding the hungry and healing the sick, but I loathe #stolenvalor. The hashtag, anyway. Or maybe just standup legionnaires in general, pressing ever onward in a consensual suspension of disbelief that fighting for something universal is an effective mask for saying, effectively, please, give us your money.
Pro-Ukraine crusaders: already redundant, largely disposable.
As they say, ‘all the best’ to you and yours, celebrate as you will, but quit advancing your fucked-up agenda on the backs of dead strangers, stop being so drunk all the time and remember Joe Strummer’s raspy cry in ‘Death or Glory:’
As an otherwise impeccably “pro-European” Czech diplomat once put it:
“One thing we learned from the 1930s — no more security guarantees from France.”