A Tale Told by a Fool

This is for my friend Alisa, Bolshoi Droog link below. I learned the little Russian I understand as a sailor back in the days of the Cold War when we were conflicted with Asian agrarian reformers and the Russians gave them the stuff to fight. We occasionally interacted in various ports but they were hard to know as they had a army of Zampoliti (political officers/minders). This set the background with a story I told her a few years ago. I had been on liberty in Hong Kong, looking at the world with young man's eyes, seeking adventure but due to improvidence low on cash so I was staying at the Seaman's Club, a sort of YMCAish hostel for merchies and naval types. I met up with some Russian merchies and based on my five word Russian vocabulary struck up conversation that led to fetching of cheap beer and card games where I tried to tech them
F!#k Your Buddy and they me a game I think was called Stupid! The best English speaker was the Zampolit, a drunken one legged veteran of the Great Patriotic War that insisted Russia won the war for the Allies and the like until he passed out in a drunken stupor. At that point the sailors broke out the goodies they stole from their cargo. I was eating Black Sea Caviar like it was Skippy Peanut Butter and drinking top shelf vodka like water. Somehow we decided the Zampolit's wooden leg was oppressed and should defect to the west-the next day it was in the forward hold of a Navy oiler on its way to Hawaii. Or something like that-nutten to with radio 73 Rob