Read the eXile - Issue #138, 05.04.02 text version

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SERIAL KILLER SURFS 4 SLUTS

This Time We Mean It!

C H E E SE !

ISSUE#05/137· 3-17 April 2002·FREE

CZAR DUMBO

Elephant Fetus Tracks Putin Presidency

WE'VE MOVED!

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SPASIBO!

An eXile Guide to Repression

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S p e a r m i n t R h i n o i s b a c k i n M o s c o w ! ! !

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By Mark Ames

All the spoonfed stories in the Western press about Russia's remarkable economic boom share one thing: dateline MOSCOW. Just last week, the second anniversary of President Putin's "election" victory offered Westernamenities-wowed journalists yet another ripe opportunity to pitch the same rah-rah story they've been pitching here ever since sushi bars spread like crabweed, and Putin signed over the last vestiges of the Russian empire in exchange for a few dinner dates with Real Live White People like Dzhyordzh Booish and Tohnee Blyehr. And they're not necessarily wrong, either. Moscow has become unmistakably bourgeois, and its bourgeoizification all took place under Putin's watch. Young Russians now prefer to sit for hours in newly-opened cafes which, although they look almost Western and offer all the familiar pretentious choices of coffee and milk with Italian names, nevertheless have a distinct leaky-vagina-like aftertaste. I swear, every last Moscow cafe has a leaky vagina filter in its milk steamer. But that doesn't matter either. It's the veneer that counts. Don't underestimate the surface--99 percent of humanity lives and moves and measures on the surface, and the damaged 1 percent that doesn't is the most miserable 1 percent of mammalian anxiety this side of Schopenhauer. The surface here has definitely changed, and by some kind of McFaulian algebra, a change in the surface has led to a change in the soul. Young Muscovites, who once stuffed their heads with more chemicals than an Iraqi Kurd could take and dragged their bodies around without sleep from party to orgy day after day, disfiguring an entire generation, are now aggressively sober and sedate. The popular tusovka Kult, not far from my apartment, is packed with rats who once would have been gnawing on their jaws or nodding off in bathrooms... today, they sit in IKEA-artsy tables, sipping exotic tea and playing Monopoly, backgammon, or whatever shitty game is offered on the menu, while a DJ plays techno music tamer than the Carpenters. To every Western journalist and Russia watcher, from Thomas Friedman's mustache to Rob Cottrell's doe-eyes (see his account of his sushi date with Anatoly Chubais in The Financial Times) to last week's USA Today feature, Moscow has finally come around. It looks and feels far less alien. It looks and feels far less threatening. It's finally how we'd hoped it would be: sushi and Starbuck's only with a view of St. Basil's instead of the Space Needle. *** Which isn't necessarily bad. I mean the last thing Russia needs is to be the living incarnation of my fantasies. I want these people to crawl out of their tragedy. They've already given me a decade of memories you people can't imagine. Really, now I understand what Rutger Hauer meant. I am grateful and willing to support your new penchant for flavorless fresh-frozen sushi, leaky lattes and weekends at the Monopoly board, because frankly, I couldn't handle another ten years of the old feral Russia even if you'd offered it to me. Or has Russia really changed that much? ***

wiped them out. Better not to jump to conclusions. Just to be sure, we decided to take a bus rather than a train, to see the roads and every shitty little village, town and city on the 3-1/2 hour journey to Tver. For seventy rubles, we packed into a musty old bus outside Leningradsky Vokzal, seats so close together that the Caucasian in the track suit to the left of me had to lean forward to avoid our shoulders locking. And we were off. *** Jack first tried to get me to visit him in Tver in 2000. He had some business up there that made him a local baron, a White God, or so he said. He was a fan of the eXile, a fellow native of San Jose. A survivor, like me, of twenty years of tract homes, classic rock culture, a 2:1 ratio of golden retrievers to human beings, and baking hot smog. I'm telling you, Dith Pran had it easy compared to us. If only we had civil wars, B-52s and Pol Pots to battle, rather than mullet-headed tanjobs, we might have come out of that experience relatively healthy. At least, that's how I see things.

every worker looked the same, every Intourist, every city layout and street. Only the girls didn't. Iggy Pop was wrong there: All the pretty girls DON'T look the same. Especially to my pre-eXile eyes. Today, judging by the drive to Tver, Russia is merely 7 years more decayed than the decay we saw then. And nothing, no oil spike or devaluation or WTO treaty or even Marshall Plan can possibly change that. *** We met Jack at around 3:30, and he rushed us to the Volga Hotel. "I've reserved a sauna at four, so we better hurry. Sasha is already sizing up the whores, they should be fine." Jack was familiar, as all Bay Areans are to each other: tan, healthy, and desperate to make up for all those event-starved years in the Santa Clara Valley. "No one back home believes the way I live here," he said. "But I can't convince any of them to come visit me. It's like they're addicted to their shitty office lives." "Slaves rarely try escaping," I noted. In the South, slaves were never guarded; they stayed on the plantation because they couldn't imagine--indeed they feared--the

wading pool. "Let's not waste time," Jack told me, stripping down. "I can't believe the Sex Machine split to work." I was worried that he might kill someone, including himself, his disappointment was so great. Sasha yelled at the girls to take towels and undress. Andrei, the older lieutenantcolonel, was a bit shier than Sasha; as he took off his coat and undid his chestholster, putting the pistol atop a coat rack, Sasha mocked him, calling him "Stupid Old Andrei". The girls filed out. I could smell their feet from where I was. As I was sucking down a bottle of Gzhel, the girls filed back with their towels on. Sasha pulled their towels off: "Look, their poosy shaved, just like my balls," he said. From there, it turned to a terrible blur. Sasha grabbed one girl and disappeared, and Jack, a mad junkie's look in his eye, took the one with glasses whom we named "the schoolteacher". A few minutes later, Sasha returned, in the exact same over-alert state as before. "I fucked her in the ass," he said, pouring vodka. "It's good this way. I don't have a big dick, and I cum quickly the first time. She said it was fine. Just a few pumps, and it was over. Let's get some food!" I was probably the last of the group to

waitress, fucking, stumbling out, then on later into the night in night-clubs packed to the brim with young sluts, including Lena, the purple-haired whore now off-duty and dancing happily... I only slept two hours, awoke feeling like pus at 6:30am. Our floor dezhurnaya left a note saying she was on the fifth floor; when I went up to look for her, I saw a pair of fat legs face down on a bed, and a woman beside her holding a needle. "She'll be free in five minutes. I need to give her an injection," she said. Somehow I dragged Jake out of bed, and we slogged towards the elektrichka for three of the worst motion-sickness, Gypsypacked hours of depressing scenery I can recall. The bus ride into Tver had taken us through the Potemkin facades, the good side of the Russia beyond Moscow. The underside, visible by elektrichka, was nothing but miles of trash, rust, cinderblock and giant, nearly abandoned factory yards. Two days after returning, I visited the Parizhskaya Passazh, a six-floor, high-end mall right off Red Square that opened a few years ago. From the outside, it fits the boom veneer of Moscow 2002, freshly painted, new glass doors... inside, six floors of gleaming, empty storefronts in the shadow of a

POKING RUSSIA... FROM BEHIND

Jack understood where I was coming from, he said. He promised me that in Tver, he could provide the kind of E-Z semensoaked provincial entertainment that our paper been pimping for years now. He promised. What he didn't know then was that I was incapable of going on. I couldn't. Just thinking about a provincial run made me exhausted and depressed-I had to crawl into bed for another three hours after receiving each of his lecherous, energy-packed emails. I was a basket case then, 2000. Four years of reckless abuse, plus one year dating a gold medal psychobitch, had finally dragged my ass down, leaving me with no energy, no drive, no spine. I needed LESS Russia back then, not more of it. Tver, I was sure, would be more of all the wrong things. So instead I traveled to the Baltics, Poland, Albania, Kosovo, Serbia, Macedonia...all the while avoiding Jack's periodic e-mail temptations, which were like the perv-in-the-van slowly cruising your grammar school parking lot as you shuffle nervously down the sidewalk: "Psst! Hey kid! Want some candy? No? How about some village pussy? Yeah, I got some good village pussy here! Come on in, kid, and have a look!" I fled. *** A year in Kentucky helped change that. When your body returns to health and your memory's reception starts to improve again, picking up broadcasts from "This is Your Life" reruns you realize you'd scrambled for a damn good reason some time ago, then your taste for travel and destruction to an outhouse like Tver returns with a jones-like urgency. You NEED to get out of Moscow. You NEED to suck down locally made shoe polish, suck face with a shy, terrified village girl, chow down every mayonnaisedrenched "salad" they throw in front of your plate... That's what I started telling myself two hours into the bus ride, when my ass started killing from the worn cushion, and the repetition of Putin's Russia started to get to me. It's not so much the miles and miles of crooked, half-torn fences, the rotting houses and depressing khrushyovka apartment block slabs that sprout out of the trash-littered growth, the dead factories and abandoned slabs of concrete or rusted scraps you see over and over and over... it's the repetition of it, knowing that this goes on for eleven of Russia's famous time zones, that starts to really grate. And I can say I know those factories, I know that special 1950s timewarp look they have inside, the giant gauges and gears and bulky switchboard lights, the rattling bottle lines and dazed, aging workforce. The businessmen I was with always saw inefficiency--it's what their propaganda had conditioned them to see. I saw the hand of God, a God who hates us all but especially the less fortunate; and, admittedly, sexual opportunity, which I could rarely leverage I was so damn busy then. When I worked for the investment fund, every factory looked about the same, unknown. Being cheap J's, we took 520 ruble rooms at the Volga, the same cheap rooms my boss use to throw me in with the same too-short Intourist bed, the same massive neck-jilting pillow, and the same defected Rubin television. We power-walked back to Sasha and his madam near central Tver. I realized I'd barely bothered noticing the city, it resembled so closely all the crumbling, traffic-starved provincial cities I'd gotten to know. Maybe provincial Russia has reached such a point of decay that it can't decay any longer? It's stuck at the endpoint of decay? Not likely. Tver's largest, most modern office building is a fancy, blue-green glass-paned post-modern structure on the West end. Most of the glass panes are missing; the work hasn't finished. Sasha explained, "It's the former headquarters of Tveruniversal Bank, which until the 1996 elections was one of the largest banks in the country. They helped fund the Communists against Yeltsin. After Yeltsin won, their license got stripped, and the building here froze. It's been like this ever since." The only modern office building in a city of nearly half a million, frozen for seven years? Why couldn't someone at least buy it or take it? "There has been a battle for this building for years now," said Sasha, a 29-year-old shaven-headed Spetznaz between tours of duty in Chechnya. "A very vicious battle." He paused, then said, "It'll open sometime soon. It'll be quite nice too. So, let's meet the whores." Jake had to leave for three hours for work, something Jack still can't forgive. "I thought he was the sex machine!" There were five of them waiting in front of a cafe with a green German beer brand sign out front, all young, pale, and in various states of anxiety, dread or anticipation of free food and entertainment. I picked out for myself the one that the others nearly sent home: a tall, rail-thin, sharp-faced lass with forehead pimples and long dark hair dyed cheap purple. I saw potential. Around the corner we entered a "modern" sauna. Space was cramped: there were two narrow rooms with beds and doors that locked, a small dining area with wooden table and benches, a respectable-sized sauna, and a large fuck. But I'd chosen correctly: mine, Lena, was only seventeen, without an ounce of loose flesh on her body, and breasts that were still in the tiny-nipple larval stage. "How old are you?" I asked. "It depends. To some I'm 13, to some I'm 16, and to some I'm 17." "What are you really?" "17." She clung to me after we finished, but Sasha grabbed her. "Can I have Lena?" he asked. "Go ahead." She grabbed my arm and stared in fear. He let go. Later, the party degenerated even further in a Gzhel-induced haze. I remember the pimp coming to tell us our meter had run up, then getting pulled into a room where one fully-clothed whore, whom we'd already sent home, sitting on the bed with her mouth open and eyes closed. Sasha barged in and introduced me to Vasya, the sniper. "He sits for 24-hours in the snow, waiting for terrorists. We Russians are tougher than you Americans. No food, no coffee. Just quietly waiting in one spot." "Then what? Blow off a Chechen woman's head?" I was drunk when I said that. Sasha didn't laugh, and I apologized. "It's not like that at all," he said. "You don't understand." And so it went on, drinking, groping a grotesquely large likeness of the Eiffel Tower. And this isn't the only multi-gazillion dollar Moscow storefront that's empty inside. More open up every day. Where does the money come from? Why open up a pricey mall and leave it empty for three years? *** Just today, I got another letter from Jack telling me that he'd judged a beauty contest in Tver over the weekend, and the purple-haired Lena whom I'd initially claimed was one of the participants. "Her mother showed up at my office the day before the pageant and said that if I voted for her 16-year-old daughter [so she's 16 now?, she'd give me a free whore for the night. I caved, I couldn't help it. Lena won a consolation prize." While most Westerners would be horrified that a mother would pimp her daughter to a group of hairy-backed foreigners, I couldn't help but feel touched. In the West, such a mother would likely be one of those odious sociopathic strivers you find in the American underworld. But in Tver, there is no veneer and underworld; it's all completely fucked. Lena's mom had a heart; she went out of her way to bribe a judge in the hope of giving Lena a day to be proud of. Love for her daughter should cancel everything else out; the whoring part was just business. I

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Last week, Jake Rudntisky and I took a road trip to Tver to find out. It's all-tooobvious that the glowing press Russia has been receiving is all due to the fact that the Western press corps never ventures beyond Russia's ring road. Inside this medieval gated fortress, it's almost Europe. But outside, it's the same polnaya zhopa I saw eight years ago when I worked at an investment fund, traveling the miserable provinces in Yak-40s, chasing my boss as he hunted relentlessly for marginally-viable factories to snap up on the cheap. The ocean-floor drop between Moscow and the not-Moscow was great enough then to make Moscow feel like Geneva every time I'd get back from a freezing three-day stint at Intourist hotels in hopeless shitholes like Voronezh, Izhevsk, Perm... Moscow had heating that worked, and a Patio Pizza. It was the First World. What about now? Although it is logically impossible to imagine that non-Moscow Russia can have made a surface change even remotely like Moscow's, I didn't exclude the possibility. After all, we went out last December in search of sovoks, only to find that Putin's Moscow had nearly

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A funny thing happened on September 11 last year in the cradle of democracy and beacon of the Free World. Within literally hours of Mohammed Atta's suicide-cruisemissile attack on the World Trade Towers, American airwaves were filled with pundits and moderators--arguing first and foremost for the need to curtail America's civil liberties. As if that was what got us in the mess in the first place. We're not talking about Rush Limbaugh here. We're talking about National Public Radio, that supposed hotbed of left-wing elitism. The Diane Rhem show to be specific. You know, that center-left DAR wonk with the Parkinson's Disease voice. All day, through the evening, and in the weeks to come, Americans were not only being prepared from above for a crackdown on their rights--they were DEMANDING their own repression, and demanding it hard. Even Comedy Central's John Stewart attacked a guest from the ACLU because she was taking a stand against indefinitely detaining people in America based on their ethnicity. All this in spite of the fact that as yet so little was known about the terrorists who attacked them that no rational person could possibly make a link between the civil rights then enjoyed, and the attacks that took place. Fine, so it wasn't rational. But it certainly FELT good. Choosing the path that FEELS right over the rational path is highly underrated in our post-Voltarian world. The mass detentions, military patrols, the USA Patriot Act, the sweeping powers handed to our law enforcement and spy agencies, the paranoid micro monitoring of our lives, the sudden rush of snitching and suspicion, the laws that were all rushed through our democratic institutions, egged on by the supposedly liberal media, and craved by the population at large--their purpose was not so much to prevent further terrorist attacks, but rather, to calm a panicked citizenry. And it worked. Calming the population that is. While anthrax attacks made a mockery of unprecedented police state measures, sleeper cells went on sleeping undisturbed even by John Ashcroft's own admission. Yet the American population felt increasingly comforted by the knowledge that theirs and everyone else's moves were being monitored more closely and thoroughly than ever before in American history, overseen by a deluded, messianic bigot from Missouri whose idea of heaven-on-earth was Jefferson Davis's Confederacy, which lasted about as long as a goldfish. Dire warnings about "credible threats" of "imminent attack" were issued, each one increasing both the public's comfort with the new civil rights rollbacks (otherwise how could they have learned that The Golden Gate Bridge was being targeted?), and its demand for even further rollbacks of civil liberties, whatever that may entail. In fact, despite what you may want to believe about yourself and your country, the fact is that the overwhelming majority of Americans have been a step ahead of Ashcroft and Bush in demanding they be monitored more vigorously, and, if necessary, prosecuted more secretly, ruthlessly and unfairly than every before. This brings us to our uncomfortable point, one that no post-Enlightenment humanist would dare to admit: human beings want to be repressed. They feel safer. They function better under properly administered doses of repression. It gives them limits, direction, order, comfort, security. This is why American management theory, alone among disciplines in the West, never bothered with the counter-intuitive humanist myths pushed by Voltaire and Rousseau about freedom of choice and man's nature. American corporations, the soul of the country, are top-down, rigidly structured mini-autocracies which are by definition antidemocratic and repressive. They function in a world of overt and covert employee monitoring, suspicion and pressure, fear and paranoia, rewards and punishments, conformity and caution. Their goal is maximum efficiency. Maximum efficiency is achieved both by motivating the workers to produce at their peak potential, and by creating conditions for maximum predictability. Cutting-edge companies like Intel and GE compared the work habits of

HALT!

The eXile Guide To State Repression

grim mini-autocracies? This is the last refuge for the liberal humanist horrified by how completely, and how eagerly, Americans abandoned liberal rights for the chance to be ruled with an iron fist. It must be some bad person's fault. It can't be in our nature, can it? We start our eXile Guide To Repression with a dossier on contemporary American in

large part because 03.04.02 for years now, 17.04.02 American Russiawatchers have been www. #06/138 exile. accusing the P.3 ru Russians of harboring a peculiar genetic preference for a "strong hand", an "iron fist", "authoritarianism", "the sting of the knout", "the heel of the boot," and so on. This supposedly unique penchant for strong authority was slung by self-congratulatory Westerners ostensibly to explain democracy's failure and the KGB's return to power under Putin. Of course it has a far more direct and obvious purpose: to make Americans oblivious to their own moth-tolamp-like attraction to authoritarianism of one form or another. And oh what a wonderfully successful, if deceptive, iron fist America has turned to time and time again. In the 1960s, in response to a budding youth movement that

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Expat Newspaper Standard of Living Soars

By Dim Bivens Special to The eXile

BETHESDA-- For two and a half years, the offices of the Moscow, Russia-based English-language newspaper "the eXile" were located in a dingy, low-ceilinged basement on ulitsa Krasnoarmeiskaya, or "Red Army Street", near the outskirts of town. Their tenure there coincided roughly with Russia's economic collapse following the financial market crash of 1998. Now, following two years of economic boom under the auspices of President Vladimir V. Putin, the eXile's fortunes have changed. Putin, who made headlines when he met privately with four economists two-and-half weeks ago and listened intently to what they had to say, is credited with bringing stability to Russia. The stability, which critics say has come at a cost, has fueled a boom in construction in Moscow, allowing even gritty start-up operations like the eXile to benefit. Last month, the eXile moved to plush new offices in the center of town. Located in the Rasputin Entertainment Complex near Park Kultury, or "The Park of Culture", the eXile now shares space with Moscow's leading strip-tease club. Jake Rudnitsky, an eXile editor, smiles gleefully and grinds his jaws as he shows journalists their sunny highceilinged rooms, freshly painted walls and tiny candy-colored ceiling lamps. It is not known if the move is related to the meeting Putin had with the four economists. "From what I understand, Dmitry Lvov [who heads an Academy of Sciences economics department] mentioned our move to Putin during their meeting, and the President listened carefully and smiled," said editor Mark Ames. "He understands what this means for us, and for Russia." Rudnitsky agreed. He noted that Russia's economy grew eight percent in 2000 and over five percent last year, while Russia's tax code has been streamlined. "It's all part and parcel of the great 'Russia Success' story," Rudnitsky said. "The problem is how to get this story out to the West, and how to get them to open up their wallets." Russia's economic transformation, however, is leaving some people behind. While staff at the eXile is clearly more optimistic and drinking less, the dancing women at Rasputin are having some trouble adapting to having an English-language newspaper, American staff and all, in their midst. "They are not human beings, they are beasts," said Olga, 18, an eleven-foot tall dancer from Bryansk who was scrubbing her upper lip. "They keep wanting to give me socalled 'Dirty Sanchez', and they leave only 10 ruble tips." Former Finance Minister Mikhail Zadornov, grinned. "Putin is searching for a new economic policy," he said. "He may have found it on Olga's upper lip."

employees guaranteed benefits and rights in large corporations to those who were motivated by the constant fear of failure, deadlines, pressure... and they discovered a dark secret about man that our Enlightenment forefathers tried to make us forget: that workers-human beings, that is-- are respond best to fear. These corporations' wound up transforming the entire American corporate culture, and eventually much of the world's. Most Americans spend far more time today in these vertically-structured autocratic mini-states, pressured, monitored, spied on, rewarded today and fired tomorrow, than at any time in American history. Indeed most Americans spend more time in the autocratic work world than in the free, Enlightenment-inspired world outside the office. For some twenty years now, America's citizens have grown increasingly accustomed to living in fear, taking orders and looking over their shoulders during the ten or twelve hours per day they spend in their offices. They've adapted, and they've adapted damn well, as America's increasingly authoritarian corporations zoomed past the rest of the world's--where people still agitate for job security, reduced work hours, health and retirement benefits, and all the other things that American workers ditched long ago. In other words, Americans, given not just a choice but even years of official brainwashing about the inherent goodness of individual choice, equality and liberty, still found a way to create a parallel superstate within America, an autocratic archipelago from industrial park to glass skyscraper in every city, town and suburb, a world far more powerful and far more meaningful to people's increasingly atomized lives than the liberal state which it pledges allegiance to. Given the choices out there in the freest country on earth, Americans JUMPED for autocracy, and not just any autocracy, but the harshest ones out there, where management theory, advanced by iron-fisted despots like Andy Grove and Jack Welch, consciously

pushes fear as a formula for success. Americans liked it there in the office-today it defines a person's life and worth--working more hours and more productively than at any time in human history, while the family and community withered into irrelevance. Is that a surprise? The family has, since the hippie revolution, lost its autocratic structure, and bam! The whole thing went out the window. Community-the very word implies an absence of fear and hierarchy. Who wants to waste their time at a neighborhood cookie bake when you can put in ten hours at the office on a holiday? All that remains for the 21st century American, after the "freeing" of the family, the community and religion--the only thing still solid, constant, and comforting, is the office world, the corporation, the only place, coincidentally, that became increasingly authoritarian while the other institutions crashed around it. In the office, you know your limits. In the top-down world of the corporation, you're world is framed by the people above you. And that's why it's so... addictive? Before entering that world, there is the modern school, with its snitching hotlines, metal detectors, random drug tests, imposing hierarchy (principal/dean/teacher), discipline, and, yes, pressure to succeed in an increasingly competitive world offering proportionately fewer opportunities as more and more struggle to fill the same number of limited slots in the same twenty or thirty universities that best ensure a place in a better office a few years hence. Put a kid in a hippie school where he's free to think and behave as he pleases, and the next thing you know he's stealing hubcaps and smoking banana leaves in the bathroom. Send him to a pricey bootcamp in Utah, and he'll come back kissing your feet. How did we get there? Who did this to us? Is it the fault of a few evil cabalists in Manhattan that a majority of Americans, whenever given the choice enshrined in their constitution, elect to spend their lives in

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ELEPHANT VS. PUTIN HALT!

Yet in spite of all of this, British journalists routinely deride Putin's popularity as proof positive of the Russian people's unique desire to be ruled by a leader with an iron fist. One rule about repression is, the only way you can enjoy it as much as your master is if neither you nor master admit the repression-takes all the fun out of it. That's what decimated the incest industry in Appalachia: all the college-educated social workers who swept through in their VW buses to convince the daughters that what their daddies were doing to them was the wrongest thing on earth. America suffered from hippies, and it turned to Nixon. A little stagflation and a few hostages in Iran, and it elevated Reagan. England got punk rock and striking workers, and the peasants rode Maggie Thatcher into Downing Street on their own backs, imploring her to plant her heel into the isle's grateful neck. In this context, Putin's popularity, as well as Russia's nostalgia for the Brezhnev days, doesn't seem so unusual... or bad. Russia suffered economic, social and geopolitical disasters far more profound than anything England or America suffered before turning to its own authoritarian figures. And we're not alone. Chile responded well to Pinochet, turning it into a docile land of happy office workers, the strongest economy in Latin America. The Afghans, after 20 years of civil war, only rolled out the red carpet to the Taliban because they brought new meaning to the word "discipline and punish". China, after centuries of decline and factionalism, only united under Chairman Mao, whose uniquely savage form of totalitarianism was handsomely rewarded not only with power, but genuine love, an entire generation of youths hanging their teachers on meat hooks and eating their parents brains just to please Master Mao, leaving tens of millions of corpses in their wake for the Master. Anyone will tell you that democracy is the last thing China needs. How many thousands died in the crush at funerals for Stalin and Khomeini? How many tears were shed? A lot more than for Mother Theresa, that's for sure. Somehow one doubts that do-gooder Jimmy Carter's funeral will be the scene of little more than solemn businesscard-exchanging. Despite what we'd like to believe, despite rational arguments to the contrary, humans gravitate naturally towards repression because it's warm there. What the humanists hopefully refer to as society's pendulum swing is actually a constant lurching for order and direction, a fear of drifting and night. Authoritarianism works. Despotism is his nigh-tee-night blanket. His Teddy Bear. The proof--America, England, Chile, China, Afghanistan--is painfully clear. Thus far, the results of Russia's turn to authoritarianism have been roughly similar. Economic growth. Creeping conformity. Improving work ethic. Booming stock market. More smiles. A feeling of stability. Fuck TV6. Man has returned to his natural habitat, after a brief, harrowing journey into the unknown. Good riddance to the experiment with civil liberties, equality and the freedom

espoused too much personal freedom and race riots seeking too much equality, voters turned to Richard Nixon, the most corrupt, reckless iron-jowled ass they could enthrone, on a platform promising more police and less tolerance. Four years--and untold numbers of dead, jailed or exiled American students and dissidents later-- Nixon's promised oppression paid off in spades. The hippie, left-wing and black power movements had been crushed, though damage had been done. Interestingly enough, the only institution to survive the 60s was the corporation, which came out not only intact, but stronger, meaner and more central to people's lives than before the 60s. Not coincidentally, corporations were also the last American institutions where authoritarianism survived. In 1972, with the liberty-crazed longhairs and niggers contained, Nixon swept to one of the biggest landslide victories in American presidential history, crushing the candidate who promised more personal freedom, and less autocracy. He may as well have promised gum disease while he was at it. After a brief interval came Ronald Reagan, who promised to stomp the liberals much more effectively than Nixon, return the country to the Church-FamilyPolice order of the pre-1960s, and scare the living shit out of any country who dared to fuck with us or our professed way of life. And it worked. People responded, both domestically and abroad. The internal liberal threat was crushed once and for all-these days, a liberal is someone who watches Dan Rather. The hippies ditched their egalitarian communes for the conformity of verticallystructured corporations, where they've happily remained ever since. Blacks ditched their `fros and stopped burning down cities. Unions, with their egalitarian structure and socialist ideas, were ground into irrelevance. God--the worst Dictator of them all--made a comeback. Just as dramatically, the outside world took Reagan's six-gun act seriously and surrendered. The Soviets raised the white flag without firing a shot. Europeans stopped protesting and started working, Third Worlders stopped bashing us around and started begging for money and wearing cheap baseball caps with American flags. Nearly everyone--Americans and foreigners, friends and enemies alike--took Reagan's iron fist seriously, and responded according to the Master's wish. And speaking of "iron", England's "Iron Lady" came to power, like Reagan two years later, in response to perceived excessive freedom (described as "chaos" or "disorder"). The whole idea of egalitarianism espoused by the Labor Party never sat comfortably with the English. Only two wars and imperial collapse made egalitarianism briefly imaginable, but the consequences--one novel after another on the theme of decline--were too much to bear. No one wanted to work. No one felt good about themselves, the future or their country. So they elevated an Iron Lady to give them a right good kick in the arse. And Britain responded. Today, English people work, and they like it--they're the only people in Western Europe who know how. Unions are gone. Protest is muted. Conformity is second nature.

The gestation period of a Sri Lankan elephant is 22 months, whereas Vladimir Putin became an elected official on March 26, 2000, or slightly over two years ago. Is there enough evidence to say with any degree of certainty that the Russian president has fallen behind the development curve? The eXile has charted the progress of an elephant fetus and Putin at regular intervals throughout the period in question, and we believe we have uncovered reason for concern.

Mom Day 1 Day 100 Month 6 Year 1

Putin wins presidential election, says that people "should have the chance" to vote in elections in Russia

Putin discusses constitutional issues by telephone with Seleznyov, talks in his Kremlin office with several parliamentary leaders including Gryzlov Putin is presented with Pakistan's ambassador to Russia Syed Iftikhar Murshed at the Pakistani embassy, says Russia assigns "special importance" to its relations with Pakistan

Putin announces sweeping changes to cabinet, appoints Ivanov defense minister

Month 18

Putin talks to George W. Bush over the phone for an hour, pledges to aide the Northern Alliance, open skies to the US and encourage cooperation in former Soviet Central Asia

Day 660

Putin meets informally in Paris with Chirac, tells group of Polish reporters that Stalin's role in Russian history is "somewhat provocative".

Year 2

Putin skis in Baikal

**CORRECTION**CORRECTION**CORRECTION**CORRECTION**CORRECTION**CORRECTION**

In Issue #137, the eXile incorrectly stated that adherents to Zoroastrianism are doomed to burn in a level of hell generally reserved only for Seventh Day Adventists who convert to Judism because of their steadfast refusal to either bury or burn their dead, leaving them instead to be picked dry by vultures. In fact, Zoroastrians are doomed to burn eternally because they worship a strain of rhubarb that will soon be overrun by a genetically altered U.S. variety that was present in some of the humanitarian aid airlifted to starving Afghans.

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EX#138/02-03-04-05

4/6/02 8:03 PM

Page 5

oscow's economy may be rocketing Westward on a sashimi-greased catapult, but its English-language expat press is continuing its degrading 3-year slide towards what can only be described as The Russia Journal. For those who remember the heady, condom-free days of the Yeltsin era, the local English-language press was one of the most vibrant, if infuriating, of any expat press in the world. Then something weird happened. Two months after the 1998 financial crisis decimated the expat community, the advertising market, the banking system, and the local media, someone decided it was a right good time to invest millions of dollars into a new English-language newspaper, The Russia Journal, and its accompanying weekly entertainment guide, LifeStyle. The backers' angle was simple: aggressively pro-Kremlin editorial, written in equally aggressive ungrammatical English that makes even the George-Romero-inspired Moscow Tribune appear at times merely retarded. It

patented Russia Journal Stylebook Indgleesh describing what appears to be a restaurant: "The menu, including businesslunch, well deserves to be described as an unsuccessful experiment of a beginner cook," she writes. "But it seems one has to be really inventive to show up almost all possible cooking defects." Frankly speaking, I am licking the Moscow very many too. I remember when I used to mock Koko, the alleged sign-language proficient gorilla, for naming her cat "Trouble Surprise Visit", but after reading this, Koko should be named Editor-In-Chief of "Get Set" as well as personal tutor to each and every Russia Journal staffer. At least their sign language would make sense. Or am I still missing the point? Am I forgetting the fact that the Journal is simply dropping the bar another rung, that soon, we'll all drop down with them... Oddly enough, on page three of the Journal, a small article asked, "Penalties for Bad Russian Skills?" noting, "Many mass media companies have cut back on proofreaders to save costs, which has had a negative impact..." Yes indeweed, man. Limping sadly behind the Journal's march to irrelevance, The Moscow Times

center-left piÒata. This is how it came to my attention. See, this isn't just any old factual faux pas. In the furrowed-middlebrow journalism world that Bivens moves in, a fuck-up of this magnitude--false accusation against President Bush, gratuitously false link to Enron scandal (when one isn't necessary), AND display of total ignorance about America's greatest pastime--confirmed in one pithy sentence everything the Right has ever believed about The Nation and its left-wing comrades. The shame is so great for Bivens, screwing up even the correction concerning President, business and baseball, that it can only be compared to popping a boner in the boys' locker room shower after baseball practice; Bivens may literally have to move to the West Coast, get plastic surgery, and start life all over again under an alias. Bivens' screw-up is interesting because it exposes a fundamental contradiction: left-wing politics and sports. They just don't go together, no matter how badly every leftie wants to side with "The People". The reason is simple. Every leftie, by definition, grew up instinctively hating jocks and their shallow, right-wing politics. In college, the leftie finally gets rewarded for his anti-

with economists..." Though we don't learn if Putin grunted, smirked or let a small fart slip, we're led to believe that if such a small fart did slip, it might also mean something. Or, maybe not; as Bivens notes at the end of the article, "It's hard to judge the significance." If this isn't a page out of the Russia Journal book--combining irrelevance and monarch-worshipping--then consider the Times' whitewash lead that same day about the depressing results of the TV6 license "auction." The auction was rigged by the Kremlin: everyone knew that former Prime Minister Yevgeny Primakov-Finkelshtein was going to win. That's why the Kremlin invited him to bid on their behalf. Nonetheless, the Times wrote, "Putting behind weeks of dramatic behind-thescenes negotiations and a full day of nervous laughter, blah-blah-blah..." Compare the Times' fake-drama spin to the Journal's pseudo-serious whitewash, penned by the impossibly-named Joseph Boris: "A consortium led by former prime minister Yevgeny Primakov and wellknown journalist Yevgeny Kiselyov beat out 12 other bidders and blah-blah-blah..." Same story, different label. Nowhere is it written what everyone,

Francophénomène!

Les publications francophones qui fleurissent ces jours-ci à Moscou souffrent toutes du même défaut: un manque absolu de désinvolture! De fantaisie! En effet si le coeur ardent du défenseur de la francophonie peut se flatter de voir le cosmopolitisme de la capitale de toutes les Russies illustré par un supplément (d'ailleurs parfaitement énigmatique?! Périodicité?! Contenu?! Esthétique?! Divertissement?! Plaisir?!) du Moscow Times, et ce curieux Journal des Francs édité par les Izvestyia dans la langue de Voltaire(et du comte de Lautréamont! Et du marquis de Sade! J'en passe et des sublimités! S'il vous plait! Du désordre dans les rangs! Un peu de tenue!), les dernières qualités valables de notre culture en décomposition en sont parfaitement absentes! Sous une maquette d'une rare indigence s'étalent des informations tirées au cordeau! Journal des Francs oblige! Recueil de dépèches AFP! D'informations piquées à la hâte dans des revues scientifiques! De blagues d'école maternelle! Sans compter bien sûr l'inévitable "section culturelle"! Au secours! Un sculpteur officiel de la Russie éternelle! À l'emporte-pièce! Grands renforts de truismes! Platitudes bien senties! La création! Les tourments de l'artiste face à l'oeuvre! Les sacrifices! Les épreuves! Le mode de vie! Ne vous endormez pas tout de suite! Pour résumer, un contenu à mi-chemin entre le bureau de presse de l'U.E. et celui de la Présidence Russe! On avoisine cordialement l'intérêt zéro! Si féroce que la décence nous oblige à nous montrer vis-à-vis de cet affligeant périodique, il faut toutefois s'incliner devant la photo du décolleté plongeant de la pouliche Versace au dernier défilé haute-couture de la Ville-Lumière: là pardon! Une paire de seins dans une perspective stupéfiante! Bouleversante! Sensationnelle! La rédaction n'a eu qu'une seule initiativeinvolontaire mais diable! Confondante! Vertigineuse! Encore! Toujours! On remarquera en passant que sur la même page de cette hautement soporifique publication était signalée la protestation solennelle et simultanée, suite aux manifestations antiBerlusconi, du sous-secrétaire d'état italien à la Culture(!) Vittorio Sgarbi invité au Salon du livre de Paris! (Macaronis à l'honneur des Lettres Françaises en 2002! Oui madame!) En clair, chez les ritals, pendant que le ministre prend le mors aux dents, le styliste vous flanque des nibards sous le nez (et lesquels! Vive le commerce!)! Un tel rapprochement eut assoupli la langue de bois duJournal des Francs d'un sourire grivois! Le moins qu'on puisse attendre! Dans la débâcle de cette culture francophone( Achevée depuis maintenant plus d'un demi-siècle!) s'il reste quelque chose à sauver c'est le sourire en coin des époques de grandeur! La narquoiserie d'élite! Le dandy égalitaire! Le Paris qui persifle! Le vanne qui fait tomber les rois! Nom d'un chien! Si la France a eu autrefois du style, c'est qu'elle savait inventer la culture et l'anti-culture! En d'autres termes et pour citer Shelley, la nécessité de l'athéisme! Gants blancs et peuple en armes! Négligence impeccable! Sérieuse, mais frivole! Paradoxale, mais cohérente! Et merde! Et vive la Sociale! Or, dans ce monocorde alignement de pseudo-informations, rien qui dépasse! Pas la moindre mèche en bataille! Pas le moindre enfant dans le dos! Rigolade, nib de nib! Que du bien coiffé! Propre sur lui! Allonz'enfants des ÉtatsUnis d'Europe! Hymnes, odes, barrons la route à l'acier américain et au terrorisme arabisant! En avant! Les expats francophones (Français, Belges, Suisses, Canadiens, Sénégalais, Ivoiriens, Camerounais, Acadiens?), seraient-ils tous pètesecs, pisse-froids, endormis, mal-baisés, accablants, Jospiniens? Le coeur se serre! Décadence! Troisième millénaire! Est-ce possible! Misère et mièvrerie! Vite! Vautrons dans le stupre et le sarcasme! Bref, francophone, mon frère, on se fout de ta gueule! Il est temps de signaler ton caractère! Enthousiasme! Énergie! Élègance! (Nous regrettons de ne pouvoir parler de Panorama dans cette rubrique en raison du caractère abyssal et proprement navrant de cette publication, tant sur le plan grammatical, que sur le plan de la maquette. Si par malheur, ce journal - une sorte de Russia Journal pour les personnes de langue française en sérieux manque de Viagra mental, problèmes circulatoires tant dans les corps caverneux que du côté des synapses devait continuer à paraître, nous nous verrions dans l'obligation, à l'ancienneté, d'en dire un mot, affaire à suivre, hélas).

local press review

by Mark Ames

was as if some practical jokers in the Kremlin wanted something to swat jobless expats on their asses with as they filed their way towards Sheremetyevo. Or maybe it was part of an incredibly clever Kremlin plan. A plan? It seemed like a ludicrously bad plan--drop millions of dollars into creating a newspaper-like product designed to spread the Good Word about Russia, nickel-and-dime on the content end by hiring a bunch of nonnative-English speaking shuttle-traders for journalists, drop the switch... and sit back and wait for Russia's Image Abroad to turn Bright again. This took the cake in sheer idiocy and corruption, we thought. It couldn't possibly work! Boy oh boy was we wrong. Not only has The Russia Journal NOT been laughed out of town, it's become a trendsetter, infecting and affecting all of us with its bizarre lower-middle-brow strategy whose purpose only becomes clear in hindsight. Pick up any foreign-language newspaper today in Moscow, and what you'll get is... The Russia Journal. From The Moscow Times and Panorama, to the foreign correspondents who take their lead from RJ "scoops", there has been a depressingly consistent drift towards ungrammatical irrelevance and barelyprofessional blandness. It's as if they're trying to lull us all to sleep or something. But why in the heck would "they"--the Kremlin, let's say--want to lull foreign journalists and Russia watchers to sleep? And how did they do it? Last Thursday, March 28, the Journal offered a window into their triumphant formula, with the introduction of its new insert, a weekly entertainment guide called "Get Set". The strangest thing about the RJ's "Get Set" is not just its creepy daycare center newsletter-like name, but that it serves no apparent strategic purpose. "Get Set" is merely an atrocious, pinched version of the RJ's other weekly entertainment guide, LifeStyle, which comes out the following day, Friday. "Get Set" made its strange debut last Thursday as an insert into the Journal's daily wire reports edition. You'd think they'd be conscious of creating a memorable launch, a cover design that would grab people's attention away from all the other entertainment pull-outs and guides. Think again. Get Set's cover is almost 80 percent blank white space. It features some five different fonts used on the dozen or so words employed. All this blank space and crap lettering draws you to the small, smudged photo near the upper-center, where we see a pair of confused degenerates in tall white chef caps. The sassy entertainment guide's eye-grabbing headline, which includes a typo, reads: "a [sic] week of French cuisine at Le Royal Meridien National Hotel". But don't bother looking inside for the accompanying article about French cuisine in Moscow: there isn't one. Just microscopic lists of irrelevant museums and irrelevant movie theaters you'll never go to. The only thing resembling an article is the freak show on page six: a photo of some Masha Gessen look-alike with her tongue hanging out over two paragraphs of

GET SET TO SUCK

jock/right stance, while the jocks fall behind, acquire a slouch, and end up filling the lower ranks or "backbone" of America. It's only much later, well into adulthood, after the stock options are exercised, that lefties start to worry in earnest that sportsbashing is actually "elitist", that the jocks ARE "the people" in America and they're in danger of losing touch with "The People" if they don't get with the program. That's when they start throwing Super Bowl parties in their lofts, wearing baseball caps to Arundhati Roy readings, and spend one hour every Sunday forcing themselves to watch Sportcenter. Right-wingers, on the other hand, were either born jocks, or more likely they were the nerds who did the jocks' homework and were grateful every time they got strung up on the quad flagpole, laughing the whole ride up to the windy gold-plated eagle-- and they've stayed there ever since, these right-wing nerds hooked to a flag pole, while the jocks got beer bellies and drifted off to their Jiffy Lube jobs and landscaping firms, there to suffer a kind of unrecognized punishment at the hands of the now-successful right-wing nerds whom they once tormented/patronized, the very right-wing nerds who are now agitating on behalf of pro-business policies that decimate ex-jocks' shitty working-class lives, stripping benefits and hand-outs on the theory that it's in their best interests. And can you blame the jocks for buying it? They look at right-wing nerds, who can cite every stat in every sport by heart and who had created a kind of symbiotic bond with them back in childhood... then they look over at lefties like Bivens, who in spite of their decent intentions are as uncomfortable around The People as President Bush at a Merritt Lake College "Take Back the Night" womyn's rally... and the choice is obvious. We're mammals. We respond to body language, not words. None of this would be a problem for Bivens and The Nation if only they'd drop their awkward flirtation with The People and come clean. They should admit, proudly, what they really believe deep down: that sport enthusiasts are, with few exceptions, shallow assholes, and any working class chump who chooses Budpacked tailgate parties over puppet-filled anti-globalization protest marches deserves to bleed to death in the waiting room of a state-of-the-art hospital following an industrial accident... his wife and kids sold into domestic servitude to Cheney's friends in Bahrain for good measure. That's what American leftists REALLY believe deep down, but are afraid to admit. God only knows why. Which brings us back to Bivens' bizarre lead for the Times last Thursday. The lead exposes what Bivens seems to believe is The Page 1 Scoop of the Century. Know what it is? Psst: come closer, we'll tell ya. Ready? Here it is: Two and a half weeks before Bivens' article was published, Putin met with four economists. That's it, that's the article. We learn that when the economists spoke, Putin took "copious notes," "smiled," "listened," was "unhappy," at times and happy at others, and finally, that "it's no accident Putin has been meeting even Koko, knows to be the truth: "Following the announcement of the results of a rigged auction yesterday-whose outcome everyone knew well inadvance--former free speech martyr Yevgeny Kiselyov made it official: he's sold out to the Kremlin, and he never meant a single goddamn thing he said these past few years. Kiselyov delivered an impromptu press conference following the announcement of his consortium's victory by pointing tauntingly at the television cameras and bellowing obnoxiously for ten minutes. After losing his voice, Kiselyov turned around, pulled down his pants, and screamed, 'Eat Me, Mother Russia!'." They didn't bother printing this because they've nearly merged, The MoscowJournal and The Russia-Times, despite the bad blood between publisher Ajay Goyal-- who has yet to step down following his dramatic announcement last summer-- and Independent Media General Secretary Derk Sauer. Let's give credit where credit's due: Goyal's mission has been a success. The local English-language press has become duller, dumber, cheaper and more irrelevant, helping make a terminally ill country like Russia a much easier sell than when the Journal first appeared in October 1998, when eager muckraking journalists were in a frenzied competition to expose Russia's sordid, corrupt underbelly.

featured on that same Thursday the most bizarrely irrelevant lead in recent memory, "Putin's Private Meeting With 4 Economists" (note the Russia Journal-like predicate-free headline) written by their most relevant former editor, Matt Bivens. Bivens, who has no relation to fellowMaryland resident and special eXile correspondent Dim Bivens, has been slipping badly since the beginning of the year, which sources attribute to his continued outrage and horror over the events of 9/11. Bivens' bad streak really began in earnest in the January 18 issue of The Nation (whose Institute Bivens fellows), in which he wrote: "When George W. Bush co-owned the Houston Astros and construction began on a new stadium, Kenneth Lay agreed to spend $100 million over thirty years for rights to name the park after Enron." Steeeee-rike! Even Koko knows that Bush co-owned the Texas Rangers, not the Astros! The right-wing American press gleefully pounced on Bivens, publishing multi-front attacks and mockeries, forcing The Nation and Bivens to print this carefully-worded retraction the following week: "When George W. Bush co-owned the Texas Rangers and construction began on a new stadium, Kenneth Lay agreed to spend $100 million over thirty years for rights to name the park after Enron." Folks, do you see an "E" flashing on the Nation's scoreboard? Enron Field, as Koko knows, is where the Houston Astros play, and Bush sold the Rangers a year before Lay dropped $100 million on the Astros. Swinging from the left side of the plate, Bivens cracked back-to-back grand-slam fuck-ups straight out of the Serious Journalism ballpark. So the bedwetters who write for rightwing rags like The Weekly Standard and The Opinion Journal raked Bivens over the print-coals, publishing critical articles and mass-e-mailing his screw-ups to other fellow right-wing geeks, turning him into a

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EX#138/06

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Page 6

03.04.02 17.04.02

www. exile. ru

#06/138 P.6

Big hello to all the people who write and encourage me not to loose heart at the way I am mistreated by State of California and F e d e r a l Government! Many people ask me to help them find the best website for bondage and torture pleasures, now even "exile" newspaper has hire me as special "reviewer" for such sites. Therefore I am happy to help find these site as long as everyone understand, I am simply innocent bystander who enjoy "surfing" web just like everyone else. Because I like these site does not mean I help Leonard Lake torture and kill so many people in so-called "torture-chamber" in Sierra Nevada. If I am guilty of such, why has it taken State of California and federal prosecutors 13 years to prove? Thanks to recent appeal court verdict I now have access to all sites, and spend many hours each day "surfing" for best sites to pass on to you. Here are my complete views on "torture bondage" sites. First: too many site use simply rich, wealthy whores in fancy underwear, with totally false chains, could not hold even a small dog. What is point? They (women) look like they are laughing at me, mocking weak chains and false torture devices! No one owns or controls them at all!

LETTER FROM FOLSOM

Makers of these site put fake "chains" on these girls, but it is simply joke! They put girls in fake "jail" which is made out of sheets with fake painting of rock and cement on sheets to make look more like true "torture-chamber"! And wealthy whores are laughing at viewer! They are not true slaves and simply walk away after get money to pose in pictures! These are worst sites, do not deserve be called "torture-bondage" sites at all. I never "surf" them and do not pass on to you even their name. It is worthless! What site manager do not understand is that for true "fan" of torture bondage, it is not how beautiful is whore/girl but making her submit completely. Not skinny models from Playboy who simply laugh at me from "centerfold" but real slave women--this is the exciting. The true exciting is the real slave girl, in true slavery. Maybe she is not "model" or beautiful and skinny, but when you see her in good "torture bondage" site you see right away that she is true slave, with true fear and true exciting scar and terror. This is what makes viewers happy. 1. Sir Jeff's Ponygirl Site This is why I like girl called "Bethann" in excellent site called "Sir Jeff's Ponygirl Site". This site is not all good, too much is only picture of women in chains with head shaved. Why is head shaved sexy? It is not sexy at all! Luckily Sir Jeff has some good pictures as well, of real women/slaves in horse equipment. "Ponygirl" is kind of site with women wearing horse equipment, pull carts and pretend to be animals. Often they are no good, just enjoying themself running naked in sunshine. But some "ponygirl" are true slaves, you can see this in their expression and their body. This is why "Bethann" so good: she is true slave of woman who own her, called "Mistress Lalique." http://216.149.85.91/pictures/bet hann/bethann.html If you look at Bethan in this pictures, you see she is not "pretty" at all: she is old whore with bad tatoo of rose on her tit, and her tits are falling flat after many years of whore. But still she is wearing steel gag of horse in her mouth with pleasure! Notice how the woman-friend of "Mistress Lalique" pinches Bethan's other tit and Bethan, like good slave, lean forward grateful for pinching. This is true proper attitude of slave. So for me and all other true fan of "torture bondage" Bethan the slave is more beautiful than any skinny model from Playboy. Sir Jeff's site has many other women/slaves wearing horse leather, most of them are very ugly but some are good slave and want to be horses, whipped and run around pulling men in cart. These are good, more important to have good "attitude" than to be beautiful model as I mention before. pictures on cover, slave girls on knees before sword of hero. Gor books extremely popular among inmates here as I can personally report, some even steal from me. There are also Gor sites naturally on Web, but most very poor and disappointing sites. Most are simply women, not slave at all but free and wealthy American women who want to dream about being slave girl for maybe hours or minutes per day but not for real. These sites I will not recommend because all talk, no pictures at all or maybe picture of fat women in fake chain, not really scared or slave at all. Some are even simply "poems"! These do not deserve to discuss, we move on to best Gor site. Best Gor site is owner "Jonrhus of Gor" with his slave Elle. Elle you will see is very helpful and smiles naked in all proper slave positions in pictures on this site. http://www.jonrhus.com/gor/posit ions.php3?pos=stand She is Australian girl, I think Australian girl make best slaves, much better than American who are all wealthy and fat and only want to write poem and wear leather, not real slavery at all. Elle is more like real slave, she likes kneel to the whip which is special Gor position you can see in these picture. Plus there are no "poems" to distract "surfer" from site. Check out this site it is one of best! But not waste time on other Gor site!

2. Gor Site If you like "bondage torture" you will know about Gor books and film. Gor is world where all women are slaves and men buy and sell and play with how they like. There are many Gor books, sometimes if you go into book store where many men stand in back of store reading you will soon find they all are read Gor books. Some of the best Gor books are Slave Girl of Gor, Captive of Gor, Nomads of Gor. All Gor books have good

3. Needle Torture This site "more like it"! Best of any you may get on entire web. It is "hardcore" and girls are maybe "Russian" or other poor white girl, not American and wealthy. Plus it is about true "torture" and not false paper chains and painted

"jails"! http://www.torturefiles.com/scripts /displayimg.asp?img=/preview/amate ur/amateur06.jpg Here you will see women/slave with needles in tit, many at once, sometimes funny shape made with many needle at once, and slave get flogged also. Many times "flogging" sites are fake, you can tell the "marks" only lipstick on ass of so-called slave, and "whips" are not real but only little ticklers. But in this site you can tell whip mark is all true, I can tell the difference. I know difference between good "real" torture and "fake" torture picture. You can see best shot of all in site which is very small blond woman like toy, she is only as tall as leg of man who whips her, you can see him flog her and real "marks" on her ass and her leg. Here again many of slaves are "ugly" but that is not so bad. Much better have "ugly" slaves with real torture than Playboy wealthy model who is not real and not torture at all. Now my time on computer is over, repression by State of California and Federal Court say I can use only for two hours, but perhaps I will again help "exile" reader find the best site. If my guide has help you please send "email" to State of California Corrections to tell how Charles Ng has help so many people all over the world to find best site. Good luck to every one! Charles Ng Folsom Institution of Corrections Folsom, CA

Hello there, ladies and germs, and welcome to our first installment of Celebrity Death Watch. I'm your host...wait a second here, if I'm the host, does that make you the parasite? Tah-tam! Pching! Anyway folks, I'm your host, Sy Shapiro, and I'm here to offer soothing relief to all the billions of non-famous suckers on this rotten planet who have never got a lucky break. Starting this issue, we'll catalogue the world's leading celebrities as they suffer and die for our consumption. Their unimaginable pleasures will never trickle down to our nobody beaks, but their pain sure as hell will--or my name isn't Sy Shapiro. I was talking to my good friend Ridley Scott the other day at Chinois on Main, and I said to him, "Ridley, great film that Blackhawk Down, real gritty stuff, but why didn't you show those American corpses getting dragged around the Mogadishu streets? You owe it to The Truth, Rid." And he said, "Sy, I didn't want to upset people too much." And I said, "Then you know what, Rid? I'll do it. I'll drag every dead celebrity along the dusty streets of my Celebrity Death Watch column, so all my unfamous readers can kick their corpses. We owe it to the little people." And Rid says, "Sy, you're a goddamn genius." He actually said that. Ridley Scott isn't the kind of guy who goes around saying that kind of thing to anyone. But enough of my yackin'. It's been a busy week at the Celebrity Morgue, so let's start death-gazing! FROM 10 TO 6-FEET-UNDER. Dudley Moore, who single-handedly made it impossible for awkward tall guys to get laid in the late 70s, has finally been laid to rest himself after a fruitless struggle against a rare and horrific disease a zillion times tinier than even Moore. You may recall the five foot two and a half English-born actor because he starred in every not-funny Blake Edwards film back in the evil 70s, earning an Oscar nomination in 1981 for his role as a cute millionaire lush in Arthur. From there, it was all downhill--downhill in a wheelchair, that is--as Moore succumbed to Progressive Supranuclear Palsy (PSP), a mysterious disease every bit as horrible, and rare, as it sounds. CELEBRITY REAPER: PSP's symptoms begin with an inability to point your eyes downward due to lesions forming on brain cells in the brain stem. As the cells' molecular structure deteriorates, the PSP victim suffers from involuntary muscle activity and eye movement, abnormal rigidity (spacitity), postural instability, speech difficulties, problems related to swallowing and eating, personality changes and cognitive impairment, breathing difficulty, paralysis and death. Kinda hard to play the cuddly alcoholic rake when you're doing the wiggley bacon in a wheelchair 24/7. CELESTIAL JUSTICE: PSP afflicts one in 100,000 people, or roughly the same odds as an aspiring actor's chances of getting famous. FEEBLE DEATH-QUIP: "One person in 100,000 suffers from this disease and I am also aware that there are 100,000 members of my union, the Screen Actors Guild, who are working every day. I think therefore it is in some way considerate of me that I have taken on this disease for myself, thus protecting the remaining 99,999 SAG members from this fate."--Moore, September, 1999. Ba-bing!

BUT SERIOUSLY FOLKS...: "He said he was waiting to die," Moore's estranged wife Nicole Rothschild told the TV show Extra in June 1998, and that "there was really nothing left for him here." Ba-bing! Pching! His last public appearance, in November 2001, was reported to be terrifying. "Pale and almost immobile," The Guardian wrote, "he had been wheeled into Buckingham Palace to receive an award from Prince Charles. Asked

sharing her tattoo needle with jaundiced exMotley-Crue frontman Tommy Lee. You got it from a tattoo needle? Yeah right, and Clorox might fly out of Sy Shapiro's butt. Pammie, lemme tell ya something. One time--true story--I got crabs from this broad from Danville, and a week later, not yet knowing I had crabs, I slept with another broad, real fine woman, who was studying to be a shrink. Then my itching starts, and I get

town kid in Sao Paulo and air-freighted on sterile ice to Cedar Sinai so you can extend your life long enough to see how truly low you can possibly fall. Because honey, there are no female sex symbols with Hep-C. Males, sure-plenty of Hep-C infected male sex symbols. But not female. I'll tell you something else: there are about 80 million suburban teenage boys who are ripping down sperm-blotched Pamela

CELEBRITY DEATH WATCH

With Sy Shapiro

whether he had ever imagined receiving such an honor, he could barely manage to speak the single word 'No.'" Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta... Pching! Describing his feelings in a BBC's Omnibus programme, Moore said: "It's totally mysterious the way this illness attacks, and eats you up, and then spits you out. There's always this feeling of why did it hit me? I cannot make peace with it because I know I am going to die from it. Yes, I feel angry, that's true - to be reduced to this insignificant version of myself is overpowering." THE LIARS: Liza Minnelli, who co-starred with Moore in Arthur, said upon learning of his death, "He could make the world laugh and brought joy to millions. I will miss him dearly." Michael Parkinson, a British talk-show host: "He was a lovely man." A LOVELY MAN: Rothschild, Moore's fourth wife, had previously filed a lawsuit against her husband, charging him with assault, battery and domestic violence. CAREER SLIDE: After Arthur, Moore's career fell over a cliff, culminating with the cancellation of two short-lived TV series and the box-office failure of his last few movies (his last feature, Blame It on the Bellboy, was in 1992). As his popularity on the big screen began to wane, the self-proclaimed "sex thimble"-- who had once said in a Playboy interview that he was obsessed with sex and believed it to be central to the enjoyment of life-- contracted PSB, got dumped by his fourth wife amid criminal charges, and died in New Jersey (can you actually die in New Jersey?... isn't that redundant?) after spending years belted to a wheelchair. GAYWATCH: Pamela Anderson's famous tan will be turning an unmistakable shade of yellow in the coming years as her Hepatitis-C infection, which she announced last week, claims more and more of her liver tissue. "Baywatch", shmaywatch. Try "Deathwatch". Anderson claims she got the Hep-C by Anderson posters from their ceilings and inner closet doors. It doesn't matter whose liver you steal, Pammie, these kids aren't ever gonna choke their chickens to your likeness again. Now do us all a favor and come clean with the Hep-C story. You were banging speedballs with that meshugina Tommy Lee, weren't you! All you celebrities bang speedballs, while shmucks like us are stuck holding the beer. CELEBRITY REAPER: Hep-C is a slow executioner that snuffs about 20-30 percent of its prey through chronic liver disease, liver cancer and cirrhosis. The list of symptoms ranges from gall stones, depression and dark urine to excessive gas (Uh-oh, I better get tested myself!) and gray or white colored stools. Picturing Pammie taking a gray-white dump is enough to get me to rip down my son Shlomo's poster right this second! CAREER OPPORTUNITIES: Sy's prediction: Pammie will be cutting 30 minute weepy Hep C public service ads on late night cable TV for the next decade, making her the next Sally Struthers or Fran Tarkenton . ETD (Estimated Time of Death): 2016 for Pamela, 2004 for Tommy Lee. UNCLE MOLDY: Milton Berle, so-called "Mister Television", finally said a punch-line last week that made me laugh. It goes like this: "Ah...uh...hhh." I always tell people, pain plus enemy times death equals comedy, and folks, Milton Berle breathing his last is a sidesplitter I won't soon forget! I don't like the fact that he lived 93 years, and I don't like it that Berle was known to have a giant shlong, which I, Sy Shapiro, lack. I will never forgive that cheap bastard for suckering me into a scandal-wracked poetry slam in the early 1990s with his poor son Billy and some creep named Michael Bass. Their crude behavior drove away some of my top clients--I was this close to signing Norman Fell and Shirley Jones, which would have put me back on the

A-list for the first time since 1973. LIARS: "What a remarkable man [...] a lifelong friend."--Bob Hope "I studied him very carefully." Phyllis Diller. A REMARKABLE MAN: "He stole from everybody."--Hugh Heffner "Berle was a parrot with skin on."--Fred Allen "Known for his hard-driving, enemy-making control. [...] Berle blew a referee's whistle to control rehearsals. The whistle just added to his reputation as a driving, tyrannical director."--The LA Times COPING WITH DEATH: Converted late in life from Judiasm to Christian Science. Then later said he was both Jew and Christian Science-r. In 1982, he became the national chairman of the American Longevity Association. No word on whether he is still a member. CELEBRITY REAPER: Colon cancer begins with small polyps in the colon's outer walls. Often the polyps are benign, but not in Uncle Miltie's case: the malignant cancer spread to his colon's inner walls, and from there, it was just a hop-skip-and-a-jump to Mister Television's lymph nodes and organs (generally the liver and lungs). Treatment involves cutting out the affected colon and rectum, or in severe cases a colostomy, whereby a hole is cut in the abdomen, and a bag is attached to the hole to store his solid waste. Thanks to colon cancer, Mister Television died as Mister Dustbuster-Bag-OfShit-Attached-To-My-Hip. BILLY GONER: They say that Hollywood wouldn't be the same without a very old guy named Billy Wilder, who died last week at age 95. Wait a minute, didn't this guy do black and white films? Shouldn't he have died about 20 years ago? Turns out that Wilder "died peacefully in his sleep." Folks, we was robbed! Sy Shapiro doesn't like it when stars die peacefully in their sleep at ripe old ages. God isn't supposed to give them everything, for chrissakes! THE LIARS: "His is a tough-minded romanticism and elegance; the lack of sentimentality has left him forever relevant as an artist."--Cameron Crowe WILDER'S ELEGANCE: "He had a mind full of razor blades."--actor William Holden "Known as 'The Terror' on the Paramount lot in the 1940s."--CNN He counseled one actor, "You have Van Gogh's ear for music," advised Walter Matthau that "we're on the track of something absolutely mediocre," and wooed his wife by telling her, "I'd worship the ground you walk on if you lived in a better neighborhood." DEATH SHY: "I don't want to see all those dead people."--Wilder on why he refused to attend a 1999 Los Angeles Conservancy showing of his 1944 classic Double Indemnity Well that's it for this week. And whatta week it was! We didn't even get to the Queen Mother! But don't worry, if there are two things we can be sure of in this world, it's taxes and celebrity deaths every two weeks. B-b-b-byebye! Sy Shapiro runs Shapiro Starz Agency in Beverly Hills. He knew Michael Ovitz and Arnold Rifkin when they were just coffeepouring shmucks. Please e-mail your thoughts, comments and contributions to Sy

Dudley Moore: Not so funny and cute anymore.

it diagnosed. I panic, because I kind of, well, enjoy the shrink's company, and yowzah did she have a figure to die for. So I call the shrink-broad and tell her a fib to protect my reputation, which is understandable. I tell her that I got crabs by using an infected blanket on a redeye flight to Manhattan to go see the Weinstein brothers, Harvey and the other one, so she might want to get herself checked. This broad laughed and hung up on me--and that's what I'm gonna do to you, Pammie. Laugh and hang up the proverbial fan-phone on your "shared tattoo needle" story. Here's the long and short of it: Your tits aren't real, your lips aren't real, your tattoo needle tale isn't real, and pretty soon, if you want to live, your liver won't be real--it'll be vacu-sliced out of some screaming shanty-

EX#138/07-08-09-10

4/6/02 8:16 PM

Page 7

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bar·dak n [Russ, ·Í, brothel, chaos] slang (1997) 1. the eXile's E-Z nightlife pull-out section 2. Parker Jarvis dazzles the working girls at resurrected Spearmint Rhino! 3. The eXile gives you another reason to hate women: the WNBA! 4. Overweight lezzie Peaches from Canada! Plus, Britain's best, Dave Seamen! 5. Ariel Cohen, Ph.D., outruns anti-Semites, dines at Sindbad! 6. KKK on Collateral Damage, Ali and Crossroads from across the ocean blue!

Cheers: Deafening music helps drown out CNN's racist coverage of world-changing events! eX-hole Meeting Point is Flounder's favorite place for free drinks! Toward the end of a recent postproduction Wednesday night binge, Krazy Kevin was approached by seemingly the only working girl in the place, and boned her free of charge. Apparently, standing around scowling disdainfully is still a valid pickup method in some circles! The legendary Doug (of Hungry Duck fame) and Marty (of English fame) hold court every night among a rollicking, drunken, fun-loving, and occasionally smelly group of motley expats, Russians, and those somewhere mysteriously in between. More or less affordable drinks and more or less affordable girls make this place the late-night establishment of choice for many a sauced man, woman, and child. Jeers: Tuesdays should be called "No-More-Whores" days. Since 9/11, non-working-girl density seems to have dropped to nearzero levels. Cut-rate whores of very imaginable human and nonhuman fauna reminiscent of the Creature Cantina scene in Star Wars. Whores don't give discounts, even in times of national crises. Dirty old whoring ex-pats provide a glimpse into your future. Dicked us on an ad. Doug's getting married--what is this world coming to??? Higgins says the Expat Meeting Point is a scam-- impossible to get your hands on the free beer, and no sluts to be had. On weekends, some of those working girls have significantly inflated expectations as to their street value. Cover: 60R ladies, 100R men M: Kurskaya Phone: 917-9986/-0150 Address: Zemlyanoi Val 26 Hours: the subject of some debate Cabana Cheers: Bartender Jonathan makes the meanest White Russians around--no wonder they're called Caucasians! Flounder claims R100 cheeseburger a better deal than McD's. Ignore the prices on the menu: it's some of the cheapest bar food around, as long as you don't eat it between 21.00 and 01.00, `cause the rest of the time, everything's half off! Has the potential to appeal to the OGI crowd, but they're just trying a bit too hard. Fri. and Sat. live music actually draws some decent bands. This town hasn't seen a good Ladies' Night in a long, long time, and we're hoping Thurs. at Expat will change that... Jeers: ...but they won't unless the ladies are allowed to drink as much as they want. VIP room downstairs has all the personality of possum roadkill. Design says "ex-pat" or, more precisely, "khokhly are ex-pats, too." M: Kitai-Gorod Cover: Not sure; ask again later Phone: 298-5414; 298-5404 Address: Pevchesky per. 4 (off Solyanka) Hours: 12.00 - 6.00 Garage Cheers: Plenty of `hos looking for a way to avoid going home to mama. Lots of students who don't study much. If the club is boring, you can always go upstairs and bowl. Organizers get an "A" for effort. Jeers: May be a closet gay club. Pretty fucking expensive considering the surrounding real estate. Cover: 100R, chicks free before midnight (no cover Thurs & Sun) M: Voikovskaya Phone: 747-5000 Address: Leningradsky shosse 16 (inside Champion) Hours: Thurs - Sun 22.00 - 6.00 Embassy Club Hip New York-style bar: you enter through the thick steel door with the massive steel monkey wrench on it, then go down into a vaguely garagethemed basement bar. Jeers: They even let Flounder in--adding weight to charges of antiSemitism. Some freak Jew slipped past security and tried to recruit the Sex Machine as a Gerbal Life salesman. The anti-Semites are back in control, goose-stepping in force. Rudnitsky and DP's Marc Schleifer turned away at door because management didn't want any "dirty yid" money. Internal memos said to have a swastika on the letterhead. Guards get paid a week's salary everytime they desecrate a Jewish cemetary. Can get tight when crowded; bourgeois. Wildly unpredictable "face control" sometimes leaves you shaking your head in confusion once you get inside and see the other dorks who got in. Cover: None (Third Reich Face Control) M: Pushkinskaya Phone: 209-1848 Address: Ul. Tverskaya 15/2 Hours: 24 hours Hungry Duck

p. 8 p. 11 p. 12 p. 17 p. 18

Watering Holes

Alibi

Cheers: So isolated, you'll never think to just drop in to see if it has gotten any better. We still have fond memories of Alibi's previous incarnation across from Beefeater, where we would go get tanked in peace and quiet before moving on to the eager beavers looking to plug their dams. Jeers: THE place for anyone looking for an empty club with furniture bought wholesale from a fascist warehouse's discount rack! As if Alibi sucking dog dick wasn't enough, they have a violently aggressive barman who overcharges because he's bitter about the tvorog discharge his girlfriend emits every time she gets turned on. We could say more, but that would be like carpet-bombing a clan of cave-dwelling barbarians into oblivion and then taking any survivors prisoner and force feeding them Froot Loops until the roofs of their mouths are so raw and chapped from the granulated sugar and Yellow #5 that they have no choice but to become fags, just for the slight relief that a mouthful of hot manlove provides. M: Turgenevskaya Phone: 207-9178 Address: Ascheulov per. 9 Hours: 12.00 - 2.00 weekdays, `til the last customer on weekends Art Garbage

Cheers: Ever since that infamous Lewinsky Oval Office incident, we've come to understand the inherent beauty in every cigar. Walk-in humidor makes you feel like you are somebody. Enough Scotch to start a civil war. Jeers: Ashtrays have an anti-cigarette bias. Fake bookcases remind us of the Nazi occupation. Ground zero for Moscow's hamsters. M: Okhotny Ryad Phone: 229-7185 Address: 8/10 Bruyusov per. (follow the signs from Tverskaya) Hours: 17.00 - last client Expat Club

soups and potato dishes. Young waitresses with very few visible sores or bruises. Jeers: Sound quality on par with a Brezhnev-era Elektronika 8-track. Filled with girls who are alternative just to feel comfortable about their fat rolls and probably love Peaches. Won't let you sit at a table unless you order food, even if the place is mostly empty. KKK received a massive head wound when he found out that there's a two hour teknicheski pereriv in the early morning hours. That means they don't really work all night long. Slight culture clash with the disco, but hey, who's complaining? We are: Russians getting whipped up into epileptic frenzies just don't jive with our view of the 21st century. The occasional androgynous person confuses even Roundeye. Charge entrance on weekdays if bands play. Students who look too studenty. Cover: 100R for concerts (none before and after) M: Kitai-Gorod Phone: 924-5611 Address: Lyubanksy proyezd 25 Hours: Not quite 24 hours Krisis Zhanra

Cheers: Our 5-Year Plan Party showed those Capitalist aggressors a thing or two. Ames fuckd a virgin; Rudnitsky got his mojo back; Flounder got sold for a whopping R305; someone got to wendel in the bathroom! Who can forget the couch of sluts practically begging for it! With our sure-shot pre-paid whore service, penetration could go thru the roof! Our party said to be the best DP show in recent memory! Cheap-O prices and central location are good reasons to check this place out... before you go out. Big, shaded outdoor patio makes it a nice place to drink before noon. Jeers: They kick eveyone out at 6. AJ Goyal seen here with the pig that raped him, leading us to believe that he was asking for it. More rooms than the Tretyakov Gallery. Not easy to navigate in a wheel-chair. Sure Shot party undermined any remaining respect we had for our readers. Cover: None M: Kitai Gorod Address: Starosadsky per. 5/6 Phone: 928-8745 Hours: 10.00 - 6.00 Boar House, Doug + Marty's

Cheers: Management doesn't seem to care how drunk you are! Even weekends are slut-intensive until closing. The place is boppin-packed with "solidny" clients. Tuesday Ladies' Nights filled with dyevs during the strip show. Come here with your reel and net and go fishin'! Strippers and whores like going here on their "night off." Deliciously colorful layout with two bars whipping up tropical cocktails, live music, and a separate super-delish restaurant. Has couches, TV monitors to watch bands. Eclectic crowd includes students, Africans, and decent babe factor. Jeers: Failed gambit by Rudnitsky at 05.30 last Sat. led to nothing but a handful of ass and a telephone #. Could the girls here be getting prudish? You may have to dance to have a chance. Chicks can be business class--and $$$. Plastic palm leaves sometimes get in your face. Cover: R150? M: Tretyakovskaya Phone: 238-5006/5017 Address: Raushskaya nab. 4 Hours: 18.00 - 6.00 Cube

Cheers: Still boasts girls that are illegal even by Russia's lax standards! It's always some dev's birthday at the Duck. Even bouncers know that we SI-ed the wrong Duck a couple months back. As always, the best place to have a chick pass you her phone number while deep throating some guy. And home to the patented Duck Look, whose hypnotic powers allow sweaty expired men with unbuttoned shirts to take home over-the-hill Lolitas and shag their brains out. Jeers: Toxic BO cloud remains even when the club is empty. The strip show is now almost exclusively waxed men--few chicks pulled out of the crowd, none disrobed, and nothing even remotely resembling a wendeling on stage. Most of the shoving and pushing isn't girls trying to grab you, but men running to the toilet to expel an alien from their innards. Old bearded men think that they can talk to you just because you share a common language. Short-lived eXile chick columnist Mona Anderson attempted to have a repulsive bisexual experience with some sad Canadian dude. M: Kuznetsky Most Phone: 923-6158 Address: Pushechnaya ul. 9 (next to Kuznetsky Most Metro) ated Upd Hours: 12.00 - 6.00 Kitaisky Lyotchik

Cheers: Said to be happening again. Musical Director Nosh is huge in Australia. You go, girl! Their Georgian food isn't exactly going to solve the long-running Caucasus feuds, but the Georgian-style Solyanka (80R) is fantastic and large, and the khachapuri is fresh and far better than Mama Zoya's. Come here and mellow out to some cool, live tunes with the rest of Moscow's Boho-intelli crowd. Good place to sit and act alienated, waiting to be discovered by someone. Jeers: Higgins dissents on the happening thing: one concert he attended involved a castrated lumberjack singing folksy tunes in English. Ever-increasing numbers of sensitive new-age guys talking to their girlfriends about eliminating the power dynamic in sex. Alternateens and patched sweaters galore. Weekends attract hordes of students who don't respect your personal space. Plenty of Lonely Planet types looking for THE underground Moscow bar. The fun stops way too early. Boring, pretentious students. Cover: None M: Kropotkinskaya Phone: 241-1928 Address: Bolshoi Vlasyevsky per. 4 Hours: 11 a.m. to midnight. Kult

Cheers: Still the only place that remains full well after sunrise. Plenty of friendly neighborhood Swedes. Also a great place to start the evening for pre-all-nighters, or for after work unwinding with the civilized folk.

Cheers: Popular among "deep" foreign high school kiddies! Didn't kick Flounder out after he puked on the patio following a recent Tequilajazzz concert. Lyotchik has expanded, adding a cozy crepe room with Englishstyle wallpaper, and an extra back chill-out equipped with great red asspillows. One of the few authentic bohemian tusovki, brought to you by famous godmother of the Moscow tusovka Irina Papernaya. Imagine Krisis Zhanra, only better: it's open all the time, serves quality cheap food, and shows quality live music. Located in the basement of a preRevolutionary building right near the Kitai-Gorod metro station. Try the

Cheers: Jeepers, this one waitress gets more voluptuous with every visit! No two waitresses are the same! Fashionable Moscow DJs work here regularly, for anyone interested enough to care. Still maintains a good vibe several months after opening. Reasonably priced place for hornrimmed glasses crowd. DJ spins good music not loud enough to discourage conversation. Jeers: Talking to a chick here is as easy as bringing the undead back to life. Empty late nites another sign of the new, delovoi Moscow we all dread. Ugly slutz now trying to dance to the tunes. More bitches in red

EX#138/07-08-09-10

4/6/02 8:17 PM

Page 8

Hours: 12.00 - 6.00

SPEARMINT HIGH HIGH

By Parker Jarvis

OK, party ppl, Ur just gonna have to hang with me on this one, cuz I think the eXile's just tryin' to test me... why else would they send me to a *U know what* for my first column and now THIS! Oh, I didn't even tell you... THIS was the re-opening of the SPEARMINT RHINO Gentlemen's Club. U might have read about its first incarnation when that st8 columnist told about his journey there. Well, my Xperience was a bit different. But all that in GOOD time... It's a good thing I knew comin' into it that I was heading to a strip club--with a name like Spearmint Rhino I might have thought some hippies were organizing some rainBOW tribal thang! That's not even that far out as U might think. This one *groovy* Russian flower girl told me all about a gathering up near Petersburg that had ppl from all over europe comin' to dig the vibe! Talk about PLUR ~ hippies practically invented it. Of course, that hippy chick told me things ended on a bad TRIP. The stormtroopers found out about the togathering and showed up with guns and evil vibes and arrested all sorts of peaceful ppl. I just luv that community, I just can't dance to the music. I dig tribal energy, not tribal beats;-) And I knew I wasn't getting either at Spearmint. What's a party kid supposed to find at a strip club? I took it E-Z before I went--only a couple BUMPS of sno--cuz I didn't want to look like I didn't belong. As if-- all those square body guards were like [:-( when they saw me come to the door. They didn't even think I had the right party. Whatever. I just walked on thru anyway, making sure to brush the most BIG with this long boa I wore just to freeeeek people out. And it works! That bully looked ready to OD on contact!-) I was also wearing these silver pants, a *phat* coat and my glasses. It was all OUTrageous. All those businessmen reLAXing after work spent more time staring at me than the girlz! As if I was an alien, cuz I kinda looked like one. So there I was, surrounded by "suits" who came to see titties, and I was the only 1 looking at the girls. I was only really looking cuz I was jealous--there's no real place to dance there ~ at least not for visitors. Even with a lil bubble powder in me, even with that stupid-O musik for pollsters, I hate sitting still. Rave Kulture is like cancer, only it's a fuzzy luv cancer:)) Since I was the only one lookin', all the girlz spoiled me with attention. They were in a line around me. At first I thought all they wanted was for me to buy a lap dance for three dimes but they actually were totally into talking! I guess even I can STEREO-type ppl, too. Oops. Some of the girlz were into the same klubs as me, like Garage and XIII. One of them even had been to Kult! Fab-U-lous! I didn't end up getting a private dance from anyone but was handing out hugs like kandy to all my girlz. And I think it helped, too--sharin' a lil luv made me feel like I was dancin' spiritually. Still, after I left I had to streeeeeeeech my leggs at Gorod before I wanted to face the next day.

k

The Last Drop Le Club O.G.I Club

Things That Do & Don't Suck THE EXILE DECODING

score here pepper spray, cuz you'll get laid here whether you want to or not Enter here waving a white flag, and you'll probably live = $4-$5 per beer = $6- $60,000

Dorkadence

A priori

= Fahkie Factor! will you "do it tonight"? = No, not even Roman Abramovich could = Either roll up here in your Mercedes Jeep, or wave a Western passport

Cheers: Plenty of second-rate models relax here after a hard day on the catwalk. Tall chicks are more approachable when they come in herds! Dorkadent, but it didn't evoke any uncontrollable feelings of ultraviolence on our first visit. Some of the girls were smiling and even dancing as only Russian dyevs can. Jeers: Soon entry will be by club card only, meaning we may never see the inside of this place again. Go-go dancers try hard to be nonchalant. Several readers complained that they couldn't understand a word of guest reviewer E. Kant's review, damaging his brittle ego. Cover: None, but face control reminiscent of Bismarck's geopolitics M: Arbatskaya Phone: 291-77-83 Address: Bolshaya Molchanovka 12/1 Hours: 23.30 to 06.00 Club XIII

around; otherwise you might have to do some convincing =Better pack a can of

= Flathead Factor! will you walk out alive? = probably = compliment this club's gentlemen on the Euclidean flatness of their heads, and they won't bother you =

= Foam Factor! Will cheap-0 eXile readers be able to afford the beer? = $2-$3 per beer

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= Starvin' Ivan Factor! Will you show up to an empty, haunted, mausoleum here? This isn't a rating factor, folks. Every club, bar, politician, and yes, newspaper, remains on the verge of collapse. When you see this stamped over a bar, it means "game over." Vsyo.

than at a Komsomol meeting. Backgammon board costs R30 to rent. Sidewalk littered with Dalmatian shit. Art gallery in back room littered with plastic cups... just like tri voksala! Too many tree-like decorations. Tries to be like Propaganda without actually being Propaganda. Cover: None M: Taganskaya/Kitai-Gorod Phone: 917-5706 Address: Yauzskaya ul. 5 Hours: 12.00 - 4.00

brought to you by the literary types threatening to start an entire chain of such places city-wide. Ignore the spotty service and enjoy the decent selection of Belgian draft beers. Weird pigfuckers always seem to be hanging around, willing to offer you drugs. Well OK, it's only pot, but still.... Food is decent, once it arrives. Jeers: Having a bookstore in a bar is about as good an idea as opening Tom Brokaw's mail. Cheap prices have less appeal in this time of plenty; the former crowds seem to be searching for more upscale haunts. As noted above, the service sucks shit. High prole-puke factor in the toilets... your shoes may not be safe. In a word, Sovok. M: Tretyakovskaya Phone: 927-5609 Address: Pyatnitskaya ulitsa 29/8 (around the corner from Pizza Hut) Hours: round-the-clock pretentious fun Propaganda

Phone: 745-5839; 291-1130 Address: Novy Arbat 21 (under Metelitsa Casino) Hours: Always Territoriya

Cheers: Our own Matt Taibbi once visited here, and had much to say about it. New menu has made them popular for biz lunch; also includes a well-prepared saucy Italian dish with beef and mushrooms and some oddly named Japanese noodle things we've never heard of. Good-quality shrimps and pelmeny. Unpretentious cellar pub located just a hop, skip, and jump from Garage, without the humiliating door hassles. Come here to relax, sample their fine selection of draft beer (including the rare cherry and raspberry-flavored Bellevue, from Germany--we think), or just chew the fat after work. Jeers: Fish assortment thing comes up way short in the flavor category, although the fish itself was decent. Our former office slave Dima complains of slow service here on occasion (he actually used the word "disaster" to describe it)--some dishes take as long as 70 minutes, when the waitress promises them in 10 minutes. Not a place to go if you're looking for some mischief. Cover: None M: Pushkinskaya Phone: 292-7549; 292-7681 Address: Strastnoi bulvar 4 (through the arch) Hours: 12.00 - 6.00

Cheers: Mocow's top Jazz/yuppie bar. Has probably the best interior design of any kulturny-middlebrow club in Moscow: long brass bartop with sauna lights, pastel seats, and hidden booths. Great place to take a date or a group of friends. Jeers: Has live jazz every night. Cover: None M: Taganskaya Phone: 915-1042 Address: Verhnaya Radishchevskaya 21 Hours: 12.00 - 2.00 (Fri-Sat until 5.00)

Cheers: Bottom dwellers--it don't get no better than this on a Thurs. around 5. Devs too drunk to even pretend to resist; the entire club appears to be dosed with GbH. We hate to admit it, but this is still the best place in Moscow to take home girls who are out of your league. The only place to be on Thursdays. Still manages to pack in crowds, even if they aren't quite as good looking as they used to be. Extras from Amazon Women on the Moon often seen here. A good place to go when you're feeling nostaligic for old Moscow. Jeers: Propaganda has become offically cool, meaning that trendy folks don't hang out there any more. Jake almost had his finger taken off when a stumbling slut with a gapping head wound jammed his hand into her mouth. Less drunk sluts than in the past, more nights end with phone numbers than with wendels. Still, that doesn't change anything for the rest of us. They have started charging cover at all hours of the night, even after 3. Steep decline in quality reminiscent of ruble prices in August, 98. Has researchers asking the question, "Who lost Moscow, and where did it go?" M: Kitai Gorod Phone: 924-5732 ed Address: Bolshoi Zlatoustinsky per. 7 (just off Maroseika)Updat Hours: Sun-Thurs 12.00 til last customer; Fri-Sat. until 06.00 The Real McCoy

Cheers: Has entered some unknown wormhole inhabited by one part bodacious student babes and one part gay guys in ribbed muscle shirts. Weird! Mix of at least 90% of the guys surveyed claimed to be bi, and we all know what that means. Jeers: No real mojo even when packed. Bouncers have trouble responding to simple commands like sit and roll over. They think up lame excuses to keep out our lovely designer Dasha. An Afisha reviewer admitted that the old Territoriya was her "favorite" club, meaning that the place is poisoned by her dorkadent-anthrax-spores for 1,000 years. Dancefloor the size of a large jacuzzi. Cover: R50 M: Okhotny Ryad Phone: 737-8865 Address: Tverskaya ul. 5 (around the back in an alley) Hours: 13.00 - 06.00 Trety Put'

Cheers: You don't even want to know what the DJs cost, but this place has the most progressive Brits in town. They finally got rid of that pesky Mick manager! Venue of choice for all the hot British DJs from Leeds. Dorkadence for the masses. Popularity with off-duty whores could translate into some bargain boning for you. Blowjobs not unheard of in the chill-out room. Try as we might, we still can't find anything that's wrong about naked chicks dancing in cages. Great opium den area, theme parties that pull no punches. Often feature midgets, which impresses dyevs. Jeers: Um... where were all the VIPs to celebrate the club's b-day? Could XIII be hurting? Humiliated Rudnitsky in front of his awfully cute date by not letting him thru face control; their reason--aging slut face control that didn't want to let a 21-year-old hottie in to highlight just how over-the-hill the whores inside are. Boy George played his records here. Dorks in Valentino boutique suits who don't know how foolish they look and still think that smoking cigars is cool. Anti-teen door policy. Cover: Weekends often $5 for members, $15 for non-members; call for details. Very strict feis kontrol (except for masked MVD cops) M: Turgenevskaya Phone: 927-2391 Address: 13 Myasnitskaya Hours: 18.00 - 6.00 Gallereya

Cheers: Our Jewish staff swears there is no cheaper place to get a student date drunk! This may be the only place in Moscow that is packed at four in the morning on a Tuesday. Members of our staff have alfontsed here. Neat-0 neighborhood art-fag hangout. If you're one of those student types who likes to talk about how something that's "in" now is actually already "old" in your oh-so-cool eyes, then this might be the place where you might want to try your new stances out. Lots of ratty knit sweaters, horn-rimmed glasses, and yes, t-shirts that mean something. Cheap drinks and food, no techno dicks. Jeers: NY Times uber-villian Thomas Freidman used the OGI chain as proof that the WASP work ethic is overpowering the oligarchs in a battle for new Russia! He opened that column observing that the "new" trend in Moscow is sushi. If he had read fellow zhid Tannenbaum more frequently, he would know that the "new" sushi trend dates back to before the `98 crisis. This time, the economic boom must be really for real! Andrew Jack of the FT called the OGI chain a place for the intellectual members of the emerging middle class, meaning it's a shoein for next season's Lonely Planet-toting, cargopant-clad crowd. This place gets more notice in the Western press than genocide in Chechnya! Closeted fags in Alphaville shirts try to hit on you. A beachhead for lesbian chic invading Moscow! Some time back Krazy Kevin nearly got into a brawl with a surly youngster after singing some Negro spiritual tunes. The only people who get tables on weekends are losers who always show up at parties too early. High beard factor. Hard to breathe. Trety Put' times two. Cover: 50-80R on weekends M: Chistiye Prudi Phone: 927-5609 Address: 8/12 Potapovsky pereulok, str. 2 (walk through the arch, turn right at end and look for black door to basement) Hours: Always Papa John's

Cheers: eXile alert! On last visit, Jake made a decision that he regretted for a solid 5 days. Flounder actually dragged an unconscious slut from here into a car and back to his place! Waytago! Better than the Manchurian Candidate technique to insure memory loss. Home to the historic Super Bowl after-party, after the Pats beat those cocky St. Louis Pig-Fuckers in the best SB ever! Where's your God now, Warner? Minimum conversational skills required. This place really is the real McCoy... somehow they've fused a high slut factor with an intelligent and attractive crowd that is way less annoying than Moskva-Berlin types. That is, the sluts and the intelligent, attractive chicks are two very different beasts, but they co-exist peacefully here. If there's a way to get kicked out, we haven't found it! Packed `til late. Cheaper than a Jew at a K-Mart liquidation sale. Jeers: May be acting as a medium for the spirit of the Duck. 2fer1 drinks are now doubles, making them harder on your stomach than giardia. Sluts Rudnitsky recently denied due to feminine hygine issues. After a solid start, Schrek's vomit-to-visit ratio lagging at 3:5. Vegas puts the Pats squarely in the middle of the pack to win next year's Super Bowl. We don't know what that has to do with McCoy's, but it has to go somewhere. Will soon begin inevitable process of decline and we'll once again be stuck listening to Ames's diatribes about how many different phyla of crabs he caught in pre-crisis Moscow. M: Barakadnaya Phone: 255-41-44 Address: Koudrinskaya pl. 1 (where Zoo was, in the towering Stalin dom) Hours: Always Respublika-Beefeater

Cheers: Moscow's only squat-like boho hangout. Occasional decent live acts, day-glo/artsy interior. You won't believe you're in Moscow. Sometimes has good DJs who play music that impresses techno Brits. This place once burned down. Jeers: Bands grandmothers sometimes come. Jiggling masses of celluloid dance the polka to punk rock. Proof that progressive politics lead to progressive waistlines. Art on walls has regressed from shitty progressive to just shitty. The Boho-Westerner's answer to Silver's: way too familiar for our tastes. Aggressively unattractive women--hey, are we in Berkeley or Moscow?! Too many guys with pointy beards and T-shirts that mean something. Cover: 70R M: Tretyakovskaya Phone: 951-8734 Address: Pyatnitskaya 4 Hours: 21.00 - 2.00 (Thurs. - Sat.) Voodoo Lounge

Cheers: Now that it's dead and sucks, we actually like it. The way we like all corpses. Jeers: You'll have to check your pride in at the door. Weekends hit and miss; one recent Friday "crowd" was nothing of the sort, with the dancefloor half-empty and available tables in the back room. Touch a chick and your body probably won't float to the top of the Moskva River until mid-spring. Drinks mega-expensive. High leathery plastic surgery factor. Cover: Strict feis kontrol M: Pushkinskaya Address: Corner of Petrovka and Strastnoy Bulvar Hours: 18.00 - 6.00 Gertsen

Cheers: Two fights and two fucks we once saw added a star to each of the fahkie and the flathead factors! Plenty of young sluts lookin' for luv. Stays packed all night long. Voodoo has become part of the must-do "circuit" for everyone from hormone-charged eXholes to Latino-luvin' teenies. Wednesdays, featuring salsa dance lessons, said to boast awesome one-hand-clapping slut factor. Stanley spins records here on Thursdays. Los Locos Cubanos that you all remember from the Duck serve up their trademark killer cocktails. Jeers: Security had to triple-team a drunken 5'7'' Rudnitsky to keep him from outing them, and even then they didn't manage to leave any perminant scars. You can't have your oysters and eat them too. Snideman impersonators rumored to get in without paying cover. Don't fall for that «just going to the bathroom» stunt. Girls think that all you want is their number. Too many men with greasy ponytails. Ames was refused sex and asked to accompany a bitch all the way to Babushkinskaya after macking her up for a good half hour. If, like Ames, your time is money, then be careful you don't waste it. Cover: 50R for broads, 150R for dudes (weekends only) M: Belorusskaya Phone: 253-2323 Address: Sredny Tishinsky pereulok 5/7

Cheers: Cheapo prices for edible sushi. Cool faucet reminds you of your dacha. Face control that anyone can get past. Comfortable couches to sober up on after a long night. Jeers: More staff than clients. Prices of drinks has edged up when nobody was looking, which is almost always. Saturday mojo so low you may think you are in Utah after curfew. So many rooms, you might get lost. Sex is verboten. Cover: None M: Okhotni Ryad Phone: 229-66-13 Address: Gazyetny pereulok 1 (corner of Nikitskaya) Hours: 19.00 - 7.00 (Fri - Sat until 8.00) Most

Cheers: We'd like to tell, but fuck if we're gonna pay 1,000 rubles to get in anywhere. But the chicks are probably pretty fucking cute. Jeers: No eXhole will ever see the inside. Cover: 1,000R (face control and other shite) M: Kuznetsky Most Phone: 928-1707 Address: Corner of Kamergersky and Petrovka Hours: 23.00-06.00 Muzei

Cheers: Whoooa, when did PJ's get so packed with quality snapper?! We just don't know, but there ain't no denying it! Reminds us of the Yeltsinera. Wide selection of snapper fauna in all shapes and sizes, from porkfried to by-the-hour to fish-n-chipsy to hypo-allergenic! And some of it looked pretty fresh! PJ, you have brought much mirth--and a few communicable parasites--into the lives of budding and seasoned alcoholics alike. You go, Papa! Has taken over some of the Duck's fratmad-house mojo. Be prepared to wait in line on weekends, but it's a wait well worth it. Packed to the gilt with a decent selection of goods, even into the wee hours of the morning. Booths for respectable or crippled people. Dyevs get easily suckered into doing things they'll regret the next morning; boyfriends try their best to pretend they're not getting angry. Krazy Kevin once got a blowjob here... Jeers: ...from a deaf chick. Delegation of Nazi lezbos ain't winning PJs any kudos. Mid-week mojo on the decline; sometimes packed with girls even Higgins has turned down. Flounder smoked rabbit pellets on Lyubyanka after turning up to an empty, lame PJ's on the 4th of July. Of the incident, a visibly shaken Flounder said, "I don't konw, man, the guy said it was pot." No more free beer on Thursday nights. High lawyer factor makes Snideman get litigious. Now charges 150R cover on weekends! Expensive drinks. Too many submerging middle class Russkys and bloated lecherous (mostly European) expats. Brick paneling looks fake, even if it's real. Cover: 150R on weekends, free-ish during the week M: Chistye Prudy Phone: 755-9554 Address: Myasnitskaya Ul. 22 (inside Johnny the Fat Boy) Hours: Always Project O.G.I. Club

Cheers: Cute and approachable student slutz everywhere! Waitresses no longer wrapped in the Union Jack. Aggressively breasted waitstaff adds to your dining pleasure. Continues to reject the citywide trend of giving up on mojo. This is a place where folks are at ease doing everything from macking shamelessly on the dancefloor to ignorantly arguing over the transendentental I. Jeers: Okhraniki don't have any respect for slightly tipsy rock stars. The use of meat hooks and other large grappling devices is frowned upon by management. Only the ugly slutz make eye contact. Topless show can create bottle necks. We waited 20 minutes on recent Tuesday visit, and they didn't even bring us a menu. Don't they know how important we are? If that happens again, we're going to call the manager gay. We don't know anyone who has ever gotten laid here. Some chicks here think that passing notes is an acceptable way to meet guys. Waitresses are convinced that you are the reason that their life is spiralling uncontrolably downwards into a black pit of ultimate despair. Cover: 50R M: Lubyanka/Ploshchad Revolyutsiya Phone: 928-4692 Address: Nikolskaya ul. 17 Hours: 18.00 - 6.00

Cheers: eXile alert! Has become hugely popular. Studenty hangout

Cheers: Security could teach American airport guards a thing or two about stopping crime before it happens. All the big "European football" events are finally over. Security guards read the eXile religiously, even inquiring if our recent photo of a bi-vaginal Anna Kournikova was real (it wasn't). Surprise massacre of entire local British community will be made easier thanks to this place--just toss a bag of Sarin down the stairs on the night of some dumb soccer match. Huge screen TV showing top sports events. Virtual golf featuring golf pros who don't have a clue what they're doing is always good for a laugh, as the light above the course gets broken at least once per weekend. Good prices, and home-brewed non-filtered beer make it worthwhile to stay for that second NFL game. Jeers: Recent slue of soccer matches mean football fans get religated to second-class status and are forced to watch on a slightly smaller big screen. The hordes of Royal Subjects who linger prior to Sunday NFL games really piss us off. Service takes longer than the jurassic period. They don't show the NFL Europe. Waitresses are always confused about how to charge a party of more than one. A better Caesar salad can be made with a blender. Russians who swing golf clubs should not be allowed within 500 meters of anything with a central nervous system. Cover: None M: Arbatskaya

EX#138/07-08-09-10

4/6/02 8:17 PM

Page 9

Cheers: Dorkadent done right! Ames had to replace the battery in his pace-maker after a mere fifty minutes here. Infested wih model level babes. They actually let Higgins in. Jeers: Ice bitches with stares that could freeze Christopher Reeve's dick. Slaves forced to mop the floor even when it's clean. On an off night you can see what the future holds for the dorkadent masses, and, folks, it ain't pretty. M: Mayakovskaya Address: Tverskaya-Yamskaya (where Karusel was) Hours: 23.00-06.00 Portfolio

really excites New Russians. M: Sukharevskaya Address: Ul. Gilyarovskogo 8 (go through archway of Prospekt Mira d.7, walk right, and look for the 3-story building with the Mercs parked out front) Tsirk (Circus [Afisha])

Cheers: Used to have quality Chinese food for under $10 dollars per entree. Located in the Lenkom Theater where the flash-in-the-pan Dvorak used to be, Portfolio does dorkadence right. Quality DJs with a state-of-the-art system, babes o' plenty and nightly fashion shows, and overall casual feel. Thugs at door turned away a dorkadent kavazets yet still let Ames in, a first in Moscow. Jeers: eXile alert! Asked our secretary to "please take Portfolio out of Bardak." Apparently these assholes learned about democracy watching RTR. If the manager hadn't gotten his dick bitten off while getting a blowjob in the back of a taxi, maybe he'd invite Higgins for a new review. But he must know Higgins hates dickless fuck faces, and that no good would come of it. Features a GULAG payment policy: they let you in free with a card allowing you up to 500R in spending "money," then, when you leave, they corral you to one cashier, make you hand in the card, and make you pay for all the drinks they'd promised you for free. This is a bait-and-switch that only Putin's poeple could pull off, it's so crude. DJ Ojo is no longer here, so we can no longer vouch for the club's coolness or quality. This site has become the Bermuda Triangle of Moscow nightlife, "disappearing" at least half a dozen places over the years. Has a no-smoking dining section in the loft upstairs. Chicks are kind of unapproachable, so you may have to bring a meat hook. Cover: None (semi-unpredictable face control) Metro: Chekhovskaya Address: Malaya Dmitrovka 6 Hours: 18.00 - 6.00 Serdtse

Cheers: Management often rents out the club for free alcohol promotions. Hosted our Zap Rally party, and even let us park there overnight. Guards let Taibbi get a couple shots in before breaking up a fight. Is now called Afisha Kafe (no relation apparently to the pafosny listings mag) on weekdays. We're not sure why that's a cheer--it just is. A fun place to try to steal someone else's girlfriend. Jeers: Having a club with three names violates the new labor code. Several mechanics from Arzamas thought that Arzamas clubs are more kicking. Waitress claimed she was too tired to go home with Ames. Savages puking all over each other in the bathroom. Cover: Free (super-duper strict face control) M: Tsvetnoi Bulvar Phone: 729-4450 Address: Tsvetnoi Bulvar 13 Hours: Thu - Sat 23.00 - 6.00

Cheers: Back office filled with half dressed hos! Still packed with eager slutz looking for foreign students! Hippo has shot to the top of the populists' choice for weekend partying, attracting a similar crowd to Boar House, only more studenty. Run by an energetic fembot spinning stomach-twirling tunes. A favorite of the US Marines during R&R, as well as a weird assortment of off-duty waitresses, wives, and molls. Music has improved, and somehow the once-depressing interior actually seems lively. Overall, worth a long stop. Jeers: Pulled their ads from because they think we're too vulgar. Quite a distance from the metro. One of those places that seems really happening when you first walk in, but as your eyes adjust, you sometimes might start to feel creeping disappointment. M: Ulitsa 1905 goda Phone: 256-2327 Cover: None on weekdays; Weekends: 100R for dudes, 50R for dyevs Address: Ul. Mantulinskaya 5/1, Bldg. 6 (downstairs from Santa Fe) d ate Hours: 22.00 - 6.00 Upd

M: Marksistskaya Phone: 911-0498 Address: Taganskaya ulitsa, 40-42 (in the park) Hours: 20.00 - 8.00 Tochka

Cheers: New cavernous warehouse-type disco. Has potential. Stage for live acts. Lots of room. Not dorkadent. A recent Thursday night visit had Tochka packed with slutty dyevs, all-too-eager to have expats mack on them. Jeers: Although the dancing goes on all night, the club clears out within five minutes after concerts end. Gets fucking hot in here when they manage to pack it in. Doormen are assholes. Too big for the small and not totally attractive crowd. Cover: 100-200R for concerts M: Ulitsa 1905 goda Phone: 253-4355 Address: Zvenigorodskoye shosse 4 Hours: 19.00 - 6.00 Virus

Cheers: At last, a place where you can watch a girl strip to live music! We knew that Moscow would finally catch up to the West. Gets some pretty kickin' groups. Most of the strippers have bruises on their asses and thighs. Jeers: VIP/free drink area has only male strippers. Lack of poles in main room force strippers to hump the banisters. Bottle necks in the long entry hallway can give you that not so fresh feeling. Negative mack factor. Too pricey for a place that isn't even near a metro stop. Cover: Up to R350 M: Begovaya Address: Begovaya 22 (at the Hippodrome) Phone: 946-1026 Hours: `til 5.00 Bely Medved

Shake It!

Cheers: New place for model level babes and their dependants. Higgins preyed upon unsuspecting second-tier model here... and got away with it! Everything is way too cheap to convince us that it is really an elite club. Live music from Nozh dlya Frau Mulher might have been cool... Jeers: ...two years ago. If you look beyond the avant-garde aspirations of this place, you are left with a Soviet circus. If you look beyond the model level bodies, you are left with bad teeth. Nothing is as it seems in the world of haute kultura. Cover: None M: Belorusskaya Phone: 213-62-01; 213-52-60 Address: Leningradsky pr. 24a (take the first left off of ul. Pravdy) Shambala DJ

Cheers: eXile alert! Folks, this place is CHICK CENTRAL! Recent research here proved that one in twelve Russian chicks is a practicing Muslim-- though not a very strict Muslim. Free beer with cover too small to sip. 3AM "Dirty Dancing" contest always a guaranteed bush sighting--and we're not talking George W. All it takes is a few minutes of conversation. Sluts, sluts, sluts, and hoz. Male competition is so lame you could come here in a wheelchair and score. So popular with student sluts, they wait for hours to enter. Jeers: Krazy Kevin nearly picked up a Miss Piggy, but she turned out to be on the rag. Door thugs should be doing their job and screening for bleeding girls--maybe they need a special sniffer dog to sniff every snapper. You might have to actually dance with the chicks here, so get very drunk. Cover: Dudes 200R, Chicks 70R M: Belorusskaya Address: Gruzinsky val 31 (upstairs in Canadian Bagels) Phone: 250-0482 Hours: thursdays, fridays & saturdays 23.00 - 6.00 Downtown

Cheers: Hip-hop Sundays full of slutz willing to settle for a white boy after several drinks. Huge crowds of babes as good as anything you'll get in Putin's Moscow. Underage slutz sneak by security on occasion. Sat. night Latin dance lessons til midnite packs devs in; don't worry if they're not drinking initially--they just need to concentrate. We saw a chick with koosh balls on her titties during a recent visit! A lotta talent on weekends. Decent action here on Thursdays, for those who want to let the crowds at Propaganda thin out before trying to get in. Sergio spotted here occasionally. Changed their name to Karma bar after complaints from offended Buddhists. Actually they were reborn as a newer, higher form of club. When we weren't looking, this place turned into a total slut magnet on weekends. Must be some residual thing from the destruction of all those ancient Buddha statues in Afghanistan. Jeers: Some devs with a New Jersey-esque aesthetic. Two eXile staffers stuck out with leftovers from Propaganda, and they weren't even all that. Ames felt up an aging British chick here. They need to do something about the coat check. Cover: 50R for chicks, 150R for dudes on weekends (liberal face control) M: Kuznetsky Most Phone: 924-5633 Address: Ul. Pushechnaya 3 (just down from Hola Mexico) Hours: Wed. -Sun.: 19.00 - 6.00 Ministerstvo

Cheers: They may have finally figured out how to make this place work. Former presidential contender Umar Djabrailov has sold the place to some washed up fashion designer, who is said to be turning the place around. Pretty cool techno layout, now with lots of TVs and sometimes porno. For free. Chicks aren't bad looking, music is standard house. We're keeping an eye on this. Jeers: Still mostly empty, so you're not likely to catch a Virus here. Has a lame VIP hall with a thug standing guard, as if there's anything to guard. M: Smolenskaya Phone: 937-8029 Address: Smolenskaya ploshchad 3/5 Hours: 22.00 - 6.00 Thurs - Sun

Cheers: Post-remont strip joint is flashier than ever. Cool Jabba the Hut central stage, complete with chains and pole, split-level seating, and friendly dyevs who warm up to you the minute you enter. Pro-family cover policy. Jeers: Overpriced table dances ($100 a pop), dyevs leave a little to be desired. Surly staff and security. Cover: $30 dollars Phone: 287-2551 Address: Prospekt Mira 116A Hours: 19.00 - 07.00 Caesar's Palace

High Rollin'

Club Lux

Cheers/Jeers: See Parker Jarvis roll into Moscow's newest establishment! Cover: Men: 600; Chix: 300 (Sun.-Thurs. free til 23.00 for diners) M: Kurskaya/Taganskaya Phone: 916-6781 Address: 50 Zemlyanoi val Hours: 21.00 - 05.00

Cheers: eXile alert! The coolest door on the odd side of Kuznetsky Most! Good place to hear exactly how bored dorkadent Muscovites are of the `scene'. Goa theme was really cosmic, man! Jeers: Just when face control seemed to be a thing of the past... If anyone needs proof that Moscow is still corrupt and undemocratic, look no further. Why don't Jewish NY Times columnists ever write about places like this as a sign of where Russia is headed? `Cause they couldn't get past the okhroniki! Higgins can get in, but he can't even approach the hos here. Harbinger for that whole ironic critique of pop culture in Moscow that rocked the West, oh, seven years ago. Cover: None, but Nazi face control M: Kuznetsky Most Phone: 927-87-27 Address: Ul. Kuznetsky Most, 3 Hours: 21.00 - 08.00 Tsepellin

Cheers: Bizarre teeny bopper entertainment complex buried in the south end of the Manezh underground shopping mall. Somehow reminds us of the Skate Palaces where we had our junior high school birthday parties. Huge dancefloor with packs of underage aspiring sluts doing all the latest dance moves, plus lots of not quite state-of-the-art video games for when the dyev-hunting gets old. Dirt-cheap drinks. Jeers: Smokers are relegated to an unpleasant "chillout" ghetto where lots of teenage boy primitives sit at plastic lawn furniture trying to appear threatening. Much as we hate to say it, the crowd here may be too young even by our extremely liberal standards. Cover: 50R M: Okhotny Ryad Address: Inside Okhotnii Ryad mall, near the Manezh gallery Hours: 18.00 - 6.00 Gorod

Cheers; New place for flatheads to park their Mercedes! A club by the same guys who brought you Titanik! Jeers: Gawking at babes for more than three seconds concidered grounds for having your eyes put out with hot pokers. Cover: ? M: Barrakadnaya Phone: 222-01-58 Address: Malaya Nikitskaya Ul. 24 Hours: Thurs. - Sun., 23.00-06.00 Parizhskaya Zhizn'

Cheers: For the serious, discreet gambler. No hookers, no unshaven mafiosi, no seedy chelnoki; this place is actually respectable, the clientele consisting mostly of biznesmeny. Jeers: Don't come here looking for sex; security dressed like Giuliani cops means you have to check in your fun--and your gun--at the door. Cover: None M: Yugo-Zapadnay Phone: 430-4393 Address: Michurinsky prospekt 4/1 Hours: 13.00 - 8.00 Golden Palace

Cheers: This place's comeback makes Adam Ant look like the midget from Willow. All night long packed with aging sluts who never made it, and the occasional babe thrown in the mix. A good place to grab unsuspecting snappers. Brings out the sensitive side of Higgins. Jeers: Lack of air conditioning combined with this summer's record heat has lead to a spike of drownings in the fountain outside. The prices just don't make any sense. Cover: Up to 150R on weekends M: Chekhovskaya Phone: 299-1595 Address: Karetny Ryad 3 Park Avenue Disco

Cheers: Held the Nightlife Awards afterparty and even then refused to let Ne Spat! staffers inside! Now that's maintaining standards! The very definition of dorkadence: a Euro-trash-compactor with equal opportunity go-go dancers catering to fags and flamers alike. Not too expensive considering the pretentionsness of the crowd. Music loud enough to adopt a bad Nazi accent and convince chicks you are from das Vaterland before you fuck them. They still let us in free, even after the infamous October `98 eXile Crisis Party. Jeers: So fucking German, that you'll feel like you're in a WWII concentration camp. Shift to sitting around drinking coffee rather than aggressive dancing means these upscale broads are aging and putting on the pounds even more quickly than before. The way-too-bright lighting doesn't help matters. Strong face control doesn't keep all the ugly girls out. eXile General Counsel Moe Snideman was recently refused entry; his office currently has a claim before the Moscow Arbitration Court to seek appropriate remedies from these Nazi fucks. Has a sauna upstairs, which

Cheers: Ames got laid here... sort of, in a vicarious way. But whatever, she had a fresh snapper! Packed selection of teenie (and pre-teenie) sluts. Raver retro will really wow all you 90s geezers. Is far enough away from the center to attract girls with no clue about what a loser you are, while the guys generally look like they come from Dzerzhinsk. Cheap enough to afford to fail. Jeers: Even the youngest eXile staffers feel over the hill at this place. They lost Rudnitsky's coat in the huge gardirob, and then told him it was his own damn fault and almost beat him up when he protested. Sometimes make vodka tonics with whack-ass bubblegum flavored syrup. Lame techno, kids with white gloves doing the Rerun dance. Cover: 150R (120R for card-carrying students) M: Ulitsa 1905 goda Phone: 256-5066 Address: Shmitovsky proyezd 16 Hours: 19.00 - 6.00 Hippopotam

Cheers: Split floors, running stream with fish (no golden fish) swimming past the card tables, awesome New Russian interior, with the most comfortable seats upstairs. Got rid of the Vietnamese restaurant, so it's shed a bit of the Deer Hunter feel. Also, great selection of $500 a pop whores (though they can be talked down). Krazy Kevin once scored some smack on the street outside here. Jeers: Nervous Russian security with shotguns pointing at your face. You have to pay the barman for the whores. Cover: 8.00 - 18.00: $20; 18.00 - 8.00: $50. Free for ladies. M: Belorusskaya Phone: 212-3909/-41 Address: 3rd Yamskogo Polya, 15 Hours: 24 hours Marilyn

Cheers: Stripper threw Flounder's R50 back in his face because she felt like her lapdance was better than that. After the Nightlife Awards in the Orlyonok, 911 empty except lone Indian biznismen, which came as quite a relief. Dark and sleazy. Plenty of rooms if you get bored. Multiple floors allow strippers to occasionally fly. Plenty of whores on the surrounding real estate. Jeers: If it's R250 for a vodka-tonic, how's an eX-hole to afford the ladies? A stripper with a weave is still just a stripper with a hunk of polyurethane in her hair. Only offered free wine and champagne at the Penthouse Party. Russia Journal staffers allowed inside. Cover: 500-1,000R M: Leninsky Prospekt Phone: 939-8407 Address: Ul. Kosigina 15 (inside Hotel Orlyonok) Hours: 21.00 - 8.00 Divas

Cheers: Lines in mid-November stretch to the the Peter the Great statue by TsDKh. Center ran a harrowing "Youth in Crisis" investigative report in which this tennybopper mecca figured prominently--the place was blamed for everything from the youth drug problem to making young Russian girls into slut to sexually confused young boys being tricked into second-rate sex change operations. Has a "Tyomnaya Komnata" where all manner of gang-banging and other perversions are said to occur. Higgins lied about getting his knob polished here, but other aspects of his E-Z pick-up story were believable. Patient, courteous girls will talk to you for at least three or four minutes after discovering you're a total loser. Jeers: We're too cheap to pay VIP entrance (R400) which gets you in w/out waiting and a free drink inside. Ratios inside supposedly mindboggling, but we didn't stick around long enough to follow Reagan's Trust but Verify strategy. Security supposedly has a no-under-20 age policy, which means some of us have to leave our genital growths at the door. Cover: 30-190R (depending on the day)

Cheers: Discreet upstairs casino good place to take a date or client, or just to blow your hard-stolen cash. Feed on fresh fruit, chat up the croupiers. Offers $5 tables for cheap-O expat gambling addicts. Jeers: Downstairs bar and mini-dance hall still as dead as the film star. Cover: None M: Mayakovskaya Phone: 254-4706 Address: Ul. Krasina 14/7

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EX#138/07-08-09-10

4/6/02 8:17 PM

Page 10

03.04.02 17.04.02

www. exile. ru

#06/138 P.10

Cheers: eXile alert! New gynochair where "everything goes" is soon to be introduced. Ho-daddy, we don't even wanna know! Sleazy velvet lounge atmosphere. Chicks shake their snappers in your face when you're drinking at the bar. Crazy menu lets you do everything from getting a private lesbian show to firing a staff member. Bitches give you free lap

There is a licensed gynecologist on the management staff. Jeers: That redhead is gone. These lap-dancing strippers are always expecting some kind of "present." No chance of meeting a nice expat girl here--wait a minute, that's not a jeer! Cover: 250R M: Chistiye Prudy Phone: 916-1879 Address: Ul. Pokrovka 32-34 (near Coffee Bean) Solaris

games, go hoin' and play pool without leaving the comfort of one club. They even have laser tag. It's rad! Jeers: On the outer reachs of the solar system. Cover: none (lanes cost up to 600R per hour) M: Voikovskaya Phone: 747-5000 Address: Leningradsky shosse 16 Hours: 17.00 - 6:00 (Fri - Sat 12.00 - 6.00) Cosmic

Four Rooms

dances... Jeers: ...and if you don't tip they get all whiny with you. Don't let stripper order herself a drink--it could cost 30 bucks. Waitresses often hotter than strippers. Cover: 630R M: Chekhovskaya Phone: 924-8726 Address: Strastnoi bul. 10, str. 2 (thru the alleyway next to Shakespear) Hours: 21.00 - 6.00 Dolls

Cheers: It's already 4am and you're feeling unlucky. You regularly fantasize about narcoleptic interludes with drugged-out anorexics. Tasteful leopard-print upholstery. Snideman said to be an «Esteemed Guest» here. Jeers: Recently raided by the police. Supposedly found blow and cash during the raid--clearly some cop didn't get his weekly helmet scrub na halyava and so he ordered a raid. There's no gong for the bad acts. Nearly impossible to take home the girls ($1,000 is the reported price). Cover: Free for Americans with passports, $50 for all other male nationals M: Ul. 1905 goda Phone: 252-5761 Address: Krasnaya Presnya ulitsa 23B, str. 1 Hours: 13.00 - 6.00 Krasnaya Shapochka

Cheers: eXile alert! Recent intelligence-gathering trip revealed that this place is THE SHIT as far as strip clubs go. Now with Spearmint Rhino closed, this could become the replacement (indeed many Spearmint chix now work here). Super hot snapper pouring out of the walls non-stop, Val-U prices on drinks and private lap dances that got even an impotent Ames standing up tall, and none of those bullshit 100 dollar scam-drinks that bitches order at most strip clubs. Great excuse to check out the evro-remont in the Kosmos komplex! The hottest stripper Higgins has ever seen works here! Fo' real! Girls of all shapes, sizes, and sexes. Once the girls have got you in a Mongol-like mood, shuffle upstairs to the Carlsburg bar and score a whore for 100 bucks. But be warned--drink first, and drink a lot! Jeers: High uzko-glazie factor. You can't rape the strippers, no matter how excited they get you. Layout with columns between certain seats and stage means you may not see every snapper. Whores upstairs in Cosmos lobby should be in a circus--or in a nature show. WhyW!!! put do we E dogs and cats to sleep, but not aging whores? Is that fair?N Cover: R500 (R450 with an eXile!) M: VDNKh Phone: 234-1060 Address: Prospekt Mira 150 (in the basement of the Kosmos hotel) Hours: 21.00 - 06.00 Spearmint Rhino

Cheers: Moscow's top bowling center. Offers 32 bowling lanes, the most in Moscow; plays decent techno in the blacklit Cosmik section; cheap-O drinks are a pleasing touch. Jeers: Locals are not only shitty bowlers who drop the ball like it's a boulder and drain it, they have a habit of repeatedly violating your lane; you might have to wait for a lane; the only way to make reservations is to pay 15,000R for a club membership. Cover: None (lanes cost 360-780R per hour) M: Park Kultury Phone: 246-3666 Address: Ul. Lva Tolstogo 18 Hours: 12.00 - 5.00 Depo

Cheers: Ask any slant, and they'll tell you that history is cyclical and hold up Four Rooms as an example. This place is back in, at least among a certain slutty teenage set! Some pretty impressive talent on weekends. Super cheap, so you can afford to hit on chicks. Jeers: Who knows why they bother with live music -- we hate to prescribe Ricky Martin and J-Lo, but if Four Rooms wants to move into the big leagues, its time to get serious about attracting slutz. Enough dicking around, guys: it's time to learn a lession from Dirty Dancing and Voodoo Lounge. Weekdays can attract middle-age people who drive 5year-old devyatkas. Low prices appeal to muzhiks looking to drink lots of vodka. Cover: 50R on weekends M: Tretyakovskaya Phone: 959-33-20; 777-39-96 Address: Raushskaya naberezhnaya 4/5 Hours: 19.00 - 7.00 Thurs - Sun. Rock Vegas Cafe

The eXile's Top 5 Coke-Booster Friendly Bathrooms!

1. Ministerstvo: You can see out, but they can't see in! 2. Most: Whattaya think those girls do in there, put on make-up? 3. Alibi: Why? Cuz no one's ever here! 4. Club XIII: Not that we'd know... 5. A Priori: Locks on the doors mean models can keep railing as much as it takes to stay railthin!

Cheers: Cheap-O drinks make up for the fact that it is in the middle of nowhere. Daytime rates rock. Parties pack in zolotaya molodezh. Lots of hot chicks. Disco has best view in Moscow (for a disco, at least). Jeers: Just `cause they're advertisers doesn't mean they can get listed twice. Six lanes. Disco on fifth floor with no elevator. Cover: None (lanes cost 360-780R per hour) M: Novoslobodskaya Phone: 973-3656/4997 Address: Novosushevsky pereulok 6 Hours: 12.00 - 5.00 Magnit

Cheers: Destined to take off some day as the hep new hangout for unpretentious non-disco dorks. Cheap `n tasty food, cheap drinks, live music. Good woodsy, open plan, restaurant in back. Big discounts before 9pm. Jeers: Free beer on Wednesday expat night is served only as long as the bartender thinks is appropriate... and it's poisoned. Hangover from that beer led to a series of events that resulted in the hobbling of Krazy Kevin. Trying hard for that Boar House crowd but not getting `em to come. Talk about mud flaps these girls got `em.... Has yet to catch on. Cover: None for now M: Tretyakovskaya Phone: 959-5333 Address: Pyatnitskaya 29/8 (by the Pizza Hut) Hours: lots of them Sixteen Tons

Address: Presnensky Val 14 Hours: 18.00 - 6.00 Chance

Cheers: Swinging Vijay's favorite male striptease in town. A shower with a stripper only sets you back 1,500R. Men rarely allowed in. Anything is availible for a price. Jeers: Women's only clubs should be packed with dykes, but this one only has 20-something New Russians. He-bitches sit next to you and order on your tab. Cover: Weekends 150R for dyevs, 700R for dudes (Nazi face control) M: Tverskaya/Pushkinskaya /Chekovskaya Phone: 933-7573 Address: Tverskaya 10 Hours: 19.00 - 6.00 Lexx

Cheers/Jeers: See Parker pill-free and primped up. Cover: R650 M: Smolenskaya Phone: 203-4614 Address: 17 Nikolopeskovsky pereulok (through the arch from Novy Arbat) Sprut

Cheers: Hosted the eXile's 100th issue party, and said to never have been hotter. The controversial Kursk Submarine contest in particular got the Russian juices-a-flowin'. Super-hot lapdancing stripper babes mix with kryutiye bandity from the Taganka area to make Lexx a "Sight You Have To See" while in Moscow. If you've got a little bit of charm, and a lot of Peter The Greats, you might even be able to pay one of the girls lots of money to get to know her better. Jeers: Doped-up ravers got pushed out of town for this? Cover: 600R (upstairs) M: Taganskaya Address: Taganskaya ulitsa 2 (on the side of the Torg-Tsentr pyramid monstrosity) Phone: 912-9187 Hours: 9.30 - 6.00 (cafe-bar: 24 hours) Metelitsa

Cheers: eXile Alert! Shrek got his first lap dance ever here! Now reverted back to a regular old strip joint. Longer, nastier lap dances than anywhere in Moscow... and they're free! Well, at lest they were for us. More hookers than strippers! There's a pair of sisters who do an act together. Jeers: Lap dancers don't leave you alone, even after you tip them. No VIP rooms yet, if you know what we mean. d Cover: R200 ate Upd M: Turgenevskaya Phone: 928-03-90 Address: Turgenevskaya pl. 2/4 Hours: 09.00-06.00

Cheers: Two days' worth of Moscow Times were still wrapped in the newspaper stand on a recent visit. Cheap drinks. Promised free beer for Americans on Mondays... Jeers: ...but failed to deliver on a recent Monday night visit. Should be a magnit for slutty student dyevs too poor to go far from Universitet, but the only girls here were with their flathead-Jr. boyfriends. Cover: None M: Prospekt Vernadskogo Phone: 974-5308 Address: Ul. Udaltsova 42 (but not even area residents know where it is) Hours: 12.00 - 5.00 Manezh

Cheers: These guys get some of the best groups (local and foreign) in Moscow; hardly an issue goes by when they aren't in the recommendations. Management not adverse to fights outside. Jeers: Club named after the average weight of the devs. Absolutely useless when there isn't live music. Ridiculous English pub downstairs isn't fooling anyone. Cover: Devs: R100 weekdays, R150 weekends; Guys: R150 weekdays, R200 weekends M: Ul. 1905 Phone: 253-5300 Address: Presnenskii Val 6 Hours: 18.00 - 6.00 Woodstock

Cheers: Some think it's the best club in Moscow, but we don't. Handsome mixed crowd who comes to dance and enjoy. Gay soft porn, striptease, and mermaid act. Jeers: It's been over-discovered--including by OMON troops, who occasionally pop in to bash your head, take you into jail, and plant drugs on you. Very little hetero-macking. Andrew McChesney goes here. Cover: Men: 100R; Women: 150R after midnight M: Ploshchad Ilyicha Phone: 298-6247 Address: Ul. Volocharskogo 11/15 (inside Dom Kultury Serp i Molot) Hours: 23.15 - 6.00 Imperia Kino

Bowling & More

Apelsin

Cheers: Ultraviolet air hockey reminds us of ultraviolet air hockey. Jeers: Hang out for dyevs whose daddies work across Alexsandrovsky Sad. Way too many video games. Management resets the high score on the basketball free-throw game daily. Cover: None (lanes cost up to 600R per hour) M: Okhotny Ryad Phone: 737-8361 Address: Manezhnaya ploshchad 2 (in the underground mall by the Kremlin) Hours: 12.00 - 5.00 Strike

Cheers: The hos really are all that. They say three but you can jew `em down to two. Reminds you that being a New Russian isn't all work. In a word, the place for whores of the chubby-popping variety. Moscow's best looking. And priciest. Still, if you ever dreamed of getting laid by a model-level babe who will later coldly dump you and make you feel depressed about yourself, and you've got a few Ben Franklins to blow, then this is the place. A Moscow legend. Snideman has done the due diligence on this place, and his legal opinion gives it two stiff legal pads way up. Jeers: Rudnitsky recently dropped a hundred bucks buying a model who turned out to be his boss' GF drinks. Waiter didn't believe Rud. could possibly be important enough to warrent the table he was seated at. Service proof that you can take a mudperson out of the stolovaya, but you can't train him to do his job well. Haggard Harrison Ford factor. Moscow's most expensive `hos--for your money, you're better off going to The Flight. They'll also try to sucker you into buying an overpriced stuffed animal. Often features Russia's cheesiest pop stars holding banquets for thugs. Not much here for the eXpatella. Cover: $25 (ruble equivalent) M: Arbatskaya Address: Novy Arbat 21 Hours: 24 hours

Cheers: Giant neon bowling pin outside approved by the Committee on Revolutionary Architecture. So many activities that you could spend a whole week there without ever repeating the same activity twice! Average prices with steep daytime discounts for eX-holes without jobs. Jeers: Lanes as straight as the Village People. Only by aiming for the gutter will you have any chance... it's almost Zen! Evil corporations often rent out the second floor of lanes, leading to an uneven distribution of lanes. Bowling should never be an indicator of middleclass values. Occasional fashion shows downstairs. Foozeball is an ethically questionable proposition. Cover: None M: Krasnopresnenskaya Phone: 253-0253 Address: Malaya Gruzinskaya 15 Hours: 12.00 - 5.00 Bi Ba Bo

Cheers: They actually manage to get some decent acts here. Decent, unpretentious student-y crowd comes by for weekend shows. Cheap prices, not as many hippies as the name implies. Everyone uses deodorant. Jeers: Empties out immediately following the shows... needs to either keep the bands on longer or dose drinks with GHB to keep the girls from leaving. Cover: 50R-100R M: Chistyi Prudi Phone: 748-03-43 Address: Pokrovsky Bul. 3, str. 1 Hours: 10.00-06.00

Cheers: Unpretentious, student-aged gay club. Mix of straights, dykes and TVs. Music ranges from cool techno to Russo-cheese. Cheap drinks Jeers: Supposedly is totally empty. Quality varies from night to night. Cover: 50 - 70 rubles M: Barrikadnaya Phone: 290-4489 Address: Ulitsa Povarskaya 33 Hours: Thursday - Sunday 23.00 - 6.00 Istiander

Cheers/Jeers: New men's-only gay club that we were too stupid to find. It's here, it's queer, get used to it! M: Krasniye Vorota Address: Sadovaya-Spasskaya 18 (around the side of the building, look for the door with the domophone) Machoiya

Cheers: Short lanes make high scores easy. Watch replays of yourself sinking gutter balls. New balls have yet to be chipped and scarred by bowlers immitating Pedro Martinez. Jeers: Haven't worked out the kinks in the ball return system. Those arriving without Scooby snacks risk getting torn apart by packs of wild beasts roaming the area parking lots. M: Fili or Kutuzovskaya Phone: 148-7876/7632 Address: Ulitsa 1812 goda Hours: Fuck if we know

Queer Nation

Chameleon Cheers: Invited Higgins to Lezbo thursday night! Far enough away from the center to maintain anonymity. Sculpture in hall caused at least one person we know to question his sexuality. Jeers: Cheap-O sauna may mean they skimp on disinfectants. Waitress refused to mix mors and vodka together because it wasn't on the menu. Fat shirtless barmen. Ikea furniture. M: Mendeleyevskaya Phone: 972-44-30 Address: Novoslobodskaya 46 Hours: 24 Three Monkeys

Live Muzak

B2

Cheers: More quiet, less overcrowded, and better location than the competition. Shoes to fit all sizes, state of the art bowling lanes and the whole range of balls to suit your rolling needs. Good service. Jeers: Fewer lanes than others, so if a crowd comes, you could be outta luck. Cover: None (lanes cost up to 500R per hour) M: Smolensky Phone: 232-9431 Address: Karmanidsky pereulok 9 (across from John Bull in the Metro courtyard) Hours: 12.00 - 5.00 Bow Bol

Cheers: Cheap, giant venue that kicks butt when it's full. Good live acts and a lot more space than Bunker. Three different restaurants, including reasonably priced sushi, under one roof. Music doesn't impede conversation in the restaurants, but is loud enough to not have to make the effort to think of anything to say. Soon to double in size and include pool tables and a swimming pool! Jeers: Suffering from multiple-personality disorder: you can't be a live music venue and a disco at the same time. Empties out early even on weekends. Cover: 100R M: Mayakovskaya Phone: 209-9918 Address: Bolshaya Sadovaya ul. 8 Hours: depends on the show B.B.King

Cheers: eXile alert! Hol-ee shit! After reading about Chameleon in the eXile, an American Negro slut with tits to her knees took off all her clothes for a TV that won't even work in the States! We must be doing something right! The most out of control amateur striptease on the planet! Five wasted guys from the audience get completely naked and then strip a dyev (also from the audience) all the way. She grabs each guy's dick and picks her favorite. After that, they get a free condom and sometimes are even willing to fuck on stage! It ain't pretty folks, but it's a must see for real eXholes. Besides, the MC is the funniest Russian alive. Men-only gay club downstairs for... men only. Some really cute girls, and some are willing to go all the way in public! Jeers: Gay sources say this place is no longer gay, but rather provincial central. Nothing to do here when people aren't fucking on stage. Expensive cover and cheap drinks make for a volatile combo. Lots of soldier types, but then again, it is a gay club. Go-go dancers are of both sexes and the chicks are not even all that. No locks in the gay part's bathrooms make them very dangerous indeed. Cover: R190 weekends; cheaper the rest of the week M: Ulitsa 1905 goda Phone: 253-6343

Cheers: Full service gay entertainment. Strp shows, and also hugely convenient VIP rooms where "anything goes." You pay $20 for a room, and that includes champagne, a fruit plate, and chocoloate... Hot porn on on big screens in the main hail. Quiet bar area to sit and commisserate. Jeers: They don't allow women in here on som e nights, but who needs `em? Cover: Dudes: none; chicks: Mon. - Thurs.: 100R; Fri. - Sat.: 70R 18.00 -

Cheers: The epic 10th anniversary party has come and gone--if you were lame enough to miss it, you'll be lying and claiming that you were there years down the road. The menu actually makes Night Flight one of Moscow's better eating options, and we are talking about food here. New nouvelle Scandinavian cuisine takes fusion to a new level, with everything from elk carpaccio to reindeer steak, as well as stir-fried foods and excellent cheesecake. Just another reason, and another temptation, from the pros at Night Flight. The king of Moscow's dyev-hunting grounds has just opened up a "business class" section. Guess what tha's about? We just discovered another reason to come here: if you want to drink all night around babes, feel confident, yet not get laid, come here, order a few drinks, and let the girls talk you up. You'll feel 100% better, we swear. Has returned to its glorious past: packed with babes, favorable ratios, and abuzz. Sexy working ladies, and no shame in showing your face: the Swedish-managed staff is discreet, professional and attentive. THE favored place for married men on business trips to visit--many have given this place a "two hastily removed wedding rings up!" Jeers: eXile alert! The Cartel now has set $200 as the minimum price, so pack a pair of Bens if you come. Also, drinks and entrance have risen in price. Tiny dancefloor means you just cut straight to the negotiations. If you bump into your boss, just say that you've come for the food [sic]. Many gals accused Moe Snideman of being too drunk to find company during a recent visit. This blatant breach of good faith will be remedied. Cover: 600R M: Tverskaya Phone: 229-4165 Address: Ul. Tverskaya 17 Hours: Club 21.00 - 5.00; Restaurant 18.00 - 5.00 Safari Lodge

Cheers: Although not new, Bow Bol certainly looks it. State of the art Brunswick equipment, fully computerized, bright interior with candy colors that remind one of "fun," and 8 fancy lanes. The Russians who bowl here are more serious--and talented--than elsewhere. Baltika in the bottle for 20R, 1/2 liter draft for 40R. Jeers: If you ever wondered who buys the cheesy Eurotrash lamps in those Sveta stores, this is who. Candy-pastel purple lampshades with ceiling stems that look like a dismembered paper clip or even that annoying Microsoft Word help character can be distracting. Clientele might be too "solidny" for the average eXhole of Dude Lebwoski-an descent. Wisely ditched the cosmic bowling. Cover: Hourly rates for bowling: weekdays 12.00 - 17.00: 300R, 17.00 5.00: 600R; weekends: 12.00 - 14.00: 450R, 14.00 - 5.00: 600R. Hourly rates for pool: 150R-200R M: Belorusskaya Phone: 257-0048 Address: 3-ya Ulitsa Yamskogo polya, dom 2 (down the street from Golden Palace) Hours: 12.00 - 5.00 Casus Conus

Cheers: The oldest and arguably the best live blues venue in Moscow, now run by the enigmatic Jay. Live music nightly; Crossroadz plays here weekly, if you are into that sort of thing. Jeers: Has that un-rediscovered feel to it. Pretty empty when there isn't live music. Food is cheap for a reason - the portions are sushisized. Cover: None M: Tsvetnoi Bulvar Address: Sadovaya-Samotechnaya 4/2 Phone: 299-8206 Hours: 12.00 - 2.00 Bedniye Lyudi

Cheers: eXile alert! Moe Snideman recently came here and gave it one circumsized penis Way Up! Moscow's newest boner-popping underground club is back up and running after a temporary shutdown. The latest project from Jean Michel of Chesterfield and Voodoo fame is a sort of deliciously debauched Night Flight for locals--less expensive, less touristy, with more of a focus on the genuinely erotic rather than the transaction. Hands-on personal strip shows make all the difference. For more intimate encounters, there's a special "dacha" out back, with sauna, double beds, and shower, all for a measly 1,000R per hour. Drinks surprisingly inexpensive, as is the grilled restaurant menu upsatirs.

Cheers: It's a bowling alley even Chubais would love! New, not-soexpensive hourly rates for pool, with new tables that the mud people haven't had a chance to ruin yet. Jeers: The bowling equivalent of the Putin Youth, taking the Prez's personality cult to new heights, with big screen projections of Judo fights visible from every conceivable position within the club. Part of the giant sucking sound to Metro Ulitsa 1905 goda. Sushi and bowling still don't mix. They charge for the backgammon and chess sets. Cover: none (lanes cost up to 780R per hour) M: Ul. 1905 goda Phone: 933-0933 Address: Sergei Makyava 8a Hours: noon `til 6.00 Champion

Cheers: 1996's choice for expats trying to escape the techno overload. Jeers: It's now 2001. Nicknamed "zhadniye lyudi." No macking factor. Cover: None M: Tretyakovskaya Phone: 951-3342 Address: Bolshaya Ordynka 11/6 Hours: 15.00 - 5.00 Bunker

Cheers: An all-in-one entertainment complex. You can bowl, play video

Cheers: Already defied the cynics by attracting a solid middle-range, non-techno crowd. Awesome super-cheap food deals and drinks. Live music every night. Named after the legendary Moscow punk club. Come early morning for breakfast and U may just get lucky. Jeers: Three hour technichesky pererif means that it is not kruglosutichni. Lame three-room layout in former Turkish nightclub. Cover: Ranges from free to 80R, depending on the night M: Pushkinskaya Phone: 200-1506 Address: Tverskaya 12 Hours: 10.00-07.00

EX#138/11

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CSKA and the Semites

By Izzy Esposito

arrived last Thursday to announce another CSKA basketball game, unaware of what to expect. I had heard it would be an important matchup, but what Russians would go to a basketball game when their beloved game of soccer was being shown on television? That's when I saw Vadim smoking and pacing in front of the staff entrance of the CSKA Sportivniy Kompleks. He was in his gray game-night suit, unshaven as usual and looking distressed. "How's life?" I said, shaking his hand. "I'm alive," he sighed. "I've got an Israeli delegation coming in for the game tonight." Vadim is a Jew who tried to emigrate to America in 1993 claiming he was fleeing persecution from Russian anti-Semitism. He and his family were denied for reasons he has never really explained, though he talks freely about the disdain for America that he has acquired since his visit to the embassy on Novinsky bulvar. "The American in the little window was wearing yellow latex gloves when he took my documents," he told me recently over vodka at a post-victory celebration. "Like we were motherfucking animals." His fretting was understandable. Maccabbi Tel Aviv was taking on CSKA Moscow-- Vadim's employer--in a crucial EuroLeague basketball contest. Earlier that week Lietuvos Rytas basketball fans in Vilnius had taunted the visiting Hapoel Jerusalem squad by chanting "Juden raus!", a famous Nazi slogan meaning "Jews out". True, the Russians weren't quite the easy Nazi collaborators that many of their more Aryan former Soviet tovarishchi in the Baltic republics were--the Nazis wouldn't have 'em. But that doesn't mean Russia is devoid of anti-Semitism. Just ask Rudnitsky about trying to get past Garage's face control. I left Vadim outside the arena pondering worst-case scenarios, and then went inside to scope out the pre-game scene. I've been working with CSKA for two seasons, this season as the English language announcer for EuroLeague games. When I walked into the gym and looked up at the stands, I was stunned. Twenty minutes before tipoff and the place was packed. I had never seen anything like it. My colleague Slava, a 22 year-old employee in the CSKA communications office, tapped me from behind. "You've probably never seen so many Jews in one place, have you?" he asked. "Not since breakfast," I quipped, trying unsuccessfully to convey the humor of "Fletch" quotes in Russian. I took my seat at the scorer's table--in front of the microphone--and studied the rosters. Typically I try to practice the names beforehand to avoid any serious mispronunciations. When only one percent of the crowd can understand "Now entering the game for Panathinaikos, number 14 Dejan Bodiroga," the player's name is the only thing you have to get right to avoid embarrassing yourself. My Russian counterpart seated next to me doesn't have that luxury. He has to get everything right every time. My usual co-announcer, Oleg Mikhailovich, a pudgy, white-haired man around 60 who is always insanely drunk by gametime, was noticeably absent on this night. The crowd used to think of him as simply exuberant, but they couldn't smell his breath. His absence may have been due to an embarrassing mistake in the previous EuroLeague matchup. With one minute to play in the first half, he boisterously announced: "And the score is tied!" Then, looking up at the scoreboard and reading it right-to-left, he followed with "Thiiiiirtyfiiiiiive to thiiiiiiirty [now realizing that the score is, in fact, not tied] two..." He turned to me with his face bright red and all I could do was turn my head toward the court and continue my call.

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Tonight's colleague was a quieter, more sober type who merely recited the names of the players after made baskets. The game turned out to be a back-andforth battle with fans cheering vehemently for their respective squads. Obviously the CKSA fans were in the majority, but Star of David flags could be spotted in random places throughout the stadium. No racial taunts were to be heard, however, no brawls to report. Pure sportsmanship on both sides. There were scattered groups of Maccabbi fans who had traveled to the game from Israel and there were Moscow Jews who had come to support their ethnic brethren. Vadim was not one of them. With 15 seconds remaining, Maccabbi had the ball trailing 75-79. Vadim ditched his press duties to come kneel next to me at the scorer's table and watch the remainder of the game. "No fouls!" he screamed. "Under no circumstances!!" Russian anti-Semitism was far from his mind at this point. And we were both looking forward some post-victory

The WNBA: the anti-B-Ball

phenomenon. Put women on ice skates or in gymnastics competitions and they can move and jump elegantly. On the tennis court they are capable of effortlessly shifting laterally and charging the net without tripping over their own feet. But when they step on the basketball court, women are suddenly transformed into flailing crippled beasts helplessly crashing into one another and tearing their ever-sofrail female ACLs. It is important to recognize the level of ineptitude of female basketball players, even at the highest level of women's play. It is otherwise difficult for sports fans -- especially those who have not played much basketball -- to see through the pathetic attempts of the media and promoters to portray these women as skilled athletes. These attempts generally result in tragicomic destructive and deceptive debate from a 1997 article in the Daily Bruin, the UCLA student newspaper. In the article ("Talented Women Deserve Equal Pay"), staff reporter Rocky Salmon bravely asserts: "I would love to see Lisa Leslie playing defense for the L.A. Clippers (after all, they just traded their only center). Let Sheryl Swoopes take it to the rack against John Stockton. I think these women could play in the NBA... Couldn't a sweet-shooting Jamila Wideman benefit the Chicago Bulls? Of course. A player is a player; his or her skills -- not gender -- should determine whether that person makes it into the NBA." Wrong, Rocky. Swoopes might perform decently on an average men's Special Olympics or wheelchair team, but at a level any higher she would get her rack twisted into knots. coaches will say that comparing any men's player, much less a woman, to Jordan is heresy. In response to such attacks against women's basketball, proponents of this vile anti-sport typically claim that female players at the college and professional level are better basketball players than the average male fan, and thus said fans should appreciate the chance to watch them compete. It is, of course, a bullshit retort which does not address the key contention, namely that the level of women's play is so low that it is not deserving of significant promotion or media coverage. This would be like forcing fans of classical ballet to watch drunken sluts at the Hungry Duck dance on the countertop. Don't listen, people. This is a conspiracy, a relentless Soviet-like propaganda barrage intended to make sports fans believe the most blatant counter-intuitive lies of all: that women's basketball is a sport, rather than an act of charity. The more naive and casual basketball fans among our readers may be skeptical about our claims. Generally we would simply ask you to trust us, but this time we're going to take it a step further. As a newspaper which always "talks the talk" and "walks the walk", the eXile is hereby issuing a challenge to any female basketball player living or traveling in the Moscow area to a game of one-on-one with a randomly selected eXile male staff member. We're ready for anyone: Russian national team or professional players, foreigners playing professionally, former college players, co-eds studying abroad, whores, virgins...anyone. Even after years of drug and alcohol abuse and with our ringer Taibbi -- who played professional basketball in Mongolia -- on the injured reserve, we'll still kick your tits straight back to the kitchen. The game will be to 15 with threepointers counting as two points and two-pointers as one. If you win, you'll have the honor of humiliating us in our own publication. If you lose, you'll merely have to live with yourself after having shamed female basketball players everywhere in front of misogynistic failures like us. Write us at

he usually vigilant folks at the eXile sports desk have been slacking lately, folks. While providing our readers with piercing insight into major sports trends, the latest developments in sports cliches and unparalleled NFL commentary by highly sought-after football analyst Osama "Sunny" bin Laden, we have been shamefully ignorant of a dangerous trend in the sports world: the creeping legitimacy of women's basketball. It took a local media gaffe and a despicable editorial decision by a sports media giant to wake us up. Now we need to set things straight. When The Moscow Times runs headlines informing sports fans that "Garnett leads Minnesota over Timberwolves" or that "Iverson leads Bucks past 76'ers", we can all rejoice in taunting their Brit-run sports desk and its utter incompetence in covering American sports. "They can't even add a factual headline to a wire report!" we shout and laugh thunderously. The heckling remains in good fun, however. God knows we couldn't write a cricket story, though we're fairly certain we could connect the names of the players with their correct teams. Not all editing blunders by Moscow newspapers trying to cover sports are this comical and harmless, however, as the eXile was so harrowingly reminded this week by a story in this fiscal quarter's edition of The Moscow Tribune (March 29-31). The offending piece was an AP story about the Women's NCAA Final Four ("Lady Vols Eager to Stop Uconn") which, while situated on the lower half of the page, had a slightly larger word count than the men's tournament story

("Hoosiers' Davis Reaps Rewards") above it. While we were initially outraged that even equal print was given to an insipid sport like women's basketball, we were eventually able to calm down and take solace in the fact that few people are even aware that the Tribune still exists, and still fewer will ever read it. We couldn't let it rest completely, though. Knowing that the Tribune's folly was only a minor transgression in a greater conspiracy to push women's basketball on sports fans, we decided to check out the coverage on the ESPN website. Upon entering the site we were assaulted by a lead article about the NCAA Women's tournament and a huge picture of a female player for the University of Connecticut named Sue Bird. Fortunately, particularly infuriated staff members were able to control their tempers sufficiently before any laptops could be smashed beyond repair. Instead, the decision was made to funnel the negative energy into debunking the myth of women's basketball as a legitimate sport. The disturbing trend -- inconspicuous to many, menacing to all -- of increased media coverage and promotion of women's basketball is perpetuating the lie that women's players are somehow comparable in skill and ability to men's players and, unbelievably, that women's basketball is entertaining to watch. Let's start with some facts. First, women suck at basketball. They are just bad. They are inferior to men's players in every aspect of the game. They are slower, weaker, cannot jump as high, can neither dribble nor shoot as well. Furthermore, women, for some mysterious reason, are incapable of making graceful movements on the basketball floor. It is truly a baffling

film "highlights" in which high-gravity she-males wrestle around on the ground for jump balls and finish fastbreaks with awkward two-footjumpstop layins due to their inability to jump off of one foot. Traditions deriving from the men's game are also regularly degraded by women's basketball, for example when the WNBA uses the phrase "We got next!" in their marketing campaigns, co-opting a term used by pick-up players to indicate that their team will play in the next game. Some may ask: "Just what, ultimately, is so distasteful about women's inability to play this wonderful game?" At a certain level it can seem harmless. The most damaging aspect of the legitimization of this "sport", however, reveals itself when absurd comparisons between men and women began to sneak into the discourse. We gleaned an example of this

Think citing a bush-league college publication is a cheap way to make a point? Let's go to an ostensibly credible source such as Nancy Darsch, a former women's coach at Tennessee and Ohio State, and more recently of the WNBA's New York Liberty and Washington Mystics. Darsch was once asked if WNBA "star" Chamique Holdsclaw is comparable to Michael Jordan. ""Maybe," replied Darsch. "Chamique is one of the very best players [in the league], and she does some amazing things. She already has the ability to take over games and dominate games." In reality, Chamique does NO amazing things and can take over games only because her opponents are so weak. To respond with a "maybe" while not clarifying the actual discrepancy in talent is idiotic at best and duplicitous at worst. Many leading NBA and college men's

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be consumed by some tapeworm of an American corporation that will refit the group into an even more marketable creation, thereby bleaching out any continental flavor. So, a European band is, by its very nature, something that you would never want to listen to. Unless, of course, you are a pansy Euro-fag without a modicum of identity looking for something deeper than a catchy tune. Peaches. Friday, April 5. B2. 23.00 This rank, aging Canadian Jew has become the leading soundtrack and star for Yuppie Hedonists from Berlin to Boston and beyond. Which is fine... but what is the bitch doing here? We don't need you! Keep your depressing Eurotrash genderbending ass, each and every sag of it, out of Mother Russia! Ames saw her in Kentucky, and reports that all the naughty sorority girls were letting lose with a "bi night out on the town", all vying for a chance to tongue-kiss the old hag as she pranced around stage, her tofu-stuffed belly pouring over her pink spandex hotpants. She is why the Taliban makes sense. It's a sad statement on how diminished Westerners' sex lives have become, and Peaches is their hymn-leader. One almostdecent song, "Fuck The Pain Away" is all she's worth. Don't bring tomatoes to this show. Bring RPGs. Jimmy Tenor. Saturday, April 13. B2. 23.00 Tenor is a Finn who thinks he's a funky guy from the 70's. And he's got the hair and leisure suits to prove it. The only thing is, he's in his early 30s and, like most Laplanders, burns easily in tanning salons. It's a pretty good act if you're into that whole postcontemporary school of selfconscious irony. Until you realize that this fucking Finn is so desperate to get noticed as the new pop avant-garde that he'd gladly publicly castrate himself every day for the rest of the year if he thought it would help the cause. High context irony is caught in a vicious loop whereby the only people who "get it" spend so much time sniffing each other's assholes that they never realize that they never notice the giant brown streaks that are ruining their

Richie Blackmore. Sunday, April 14. Luzhniki. 19.00 Blackmore is one of those guys who brags about once playing in a band that went on to become famous. What gives him that added little something to elevate that pitiful nugget into something so lame it has almost classic dimensions is that that band in question is Deep Purple. That's like getting dumped by Neil Young's retarded daughter and then saying you once were a rock star's son-in-law. In the interest of fairness, Moe Snideman believes that J. Mascis of Dinosaur Jr. doesn't have enough talent to tune Blackmore's warm up guitar. It's just a matter of who you believe. The point is moot, however, because Blackmore's coming to Moscow with a bitch singer named something Night and she's the one who designs the artistic program. They've been touring around as Blackmore Night with a medieval music act that should be at least as good as those Gregorian monks singing "Losing My Religion". Dave Seamen. Saturday, April 13. Club XIII. 00.00 The last time Dave came to town we were still reeling from the World Trade attacks. We said some things we probably shouldn't have and stomped on some feet that we probably aren't even good enough to lick. It was the grief speaking; we were just as confused as the rest of our countrymen. None of us could understand why anyone would hate us that much. We let our anger take hold of us; we may have been lashing out blindly, but it really was a cry for help. Nobody told us that he was the Seamen who started

T H I S

W EEK E N D

THURSDAY

APRIL 4 R O C K Steam Engine 23.00: Real McCoy (Watering Holes) Vezhlivy Otkaz 23.00: Sixten Tons (Watering Holes) Yah-ta 23.00: Bunker (Watering Holes) Off Beat 00.00: Woodstock (Watering Holes) Kolyubelnaya Dlya Koshki 00.00: Kitaiski Letchik (Watering Holes) B-12 23.00: News Pub (Watering Holes) B L U E S Babylon 22.00: B.B. King (Watering Holes) C O U N T R Y Grassmaster 23.00: Country Bar (Watering Holes) L A T I N O Tropikana 21.00: Dirty Dancing (Watering Holes) J A Z Z Igor Butman 23.00: Le Club (Watering Holes) D I S C O DJ Sanches 23.00: Propaganga (Watering Holes) DJ Sergei Kryulov 22.00: Kult (Watering Holes) Steppin Session Party 22.00: Respublika Beefeater (Watering Holes) DJ Kon' 23.00: Territoriya (Watering Holes) DJ Teacher 00.00: Garage (Watering Holes)

R

R ET

O!

Jimmy Tenor.

MixMag, that he is the most famous British DJ ever to twirl a turntable, that Gary wants to send him into space on one of those sub-orbital planes where a twohour flight costs more than the eXile grosses in a good year. God, if only we had known that last fact. We just hope that we get by XIII's face control to say "sorry" to Dave in person. Modern Talking. ThursdayFriday, April 4-5. Kremlin Concert Hall. 19.00 The Nazis are not the issue here. More important is to understand the depths that Europeans, for all their pretenses, are prepared to stoop in order to have pop acts they can call their own. Modern Talking is the very essence of this European pride movement: they were never allowed to actually produce pop music you would want to hear, because as soon as a pop group displays any potential it will

23.00: Sixten Tons (Watering Holes) Nogu Svelo 23.00: Sports Bar (Watering Holes) Bratyia Ulyubaite 23.00: Respublica Beefeater (Watering Holes) Agata Christy 23.00: Parizhskaya Zhizn` (Watering Holes) Fly`s 00.00: Woodstock (Watering Holes) Mishuris & His Swinging Orhestra 22.00: B.B. King (Watering Holes) Street Band 23.00: News Pub (Watering Holes) C O U N T R Y Irina Surina 23.00: Country Bar (Watering Holes) D I S C O DJ Voice 23.00: Gertsen (Watering Holes) DJs ZigZag & Sanches 23.00: Territoriya (Watering Holes) DJs Melory & Operator 23.00: Respublika Beefeater (Watering Holes) DJ Lisa 01.00: Expat Club (Watering Holes) DJ Stanley 00.00: Voodoo Lounge (Watering Holes) DJ Grad 05.00: Garage (Watering Holes)

S A T U R D A Y

APRIL 6 R O C K Garik Sukachyov 23.00: B-2 (Watering Holes) Kvartal 23.00: Bunker (Watering Holes) Multfilmy 23.00: Sixten Tons (Watering Holes) W.K? 00.00: Woodstock (Watering Holes) Neschastny Sluchai 23.00: Sport`s Bar (Watering Holes) SerGa 23.00: Parizhskaya Zhizn` (Watering Holes) Pakava It

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APRIL 5 R O C K Peacher 00.00: B2 (Watering Holes) Konets Filma 23.00: Bunker (Watering Holes) Moralny Codex

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W EEK E N D

N E X T

00.00: Kitaiski Letchik (Watering Holes) Futura 23.00: News Pub (Watering Holes) B L U E S Street Band 23.00: Country Bar (Watering Holes) G.G.B.G. 22.00: B. B. King (Watering Holes) D I S C O DJ On-Lee 00.00: Cult (Watering Holes) DJ List 20.00: Territoriya (Watering Holes) DJ Stanley 00.00: Voodoo Lounge (Watering Holes)

D I S C O Strange Day L.O.V.E. Project 23.00: Cult (Watering Holes) DJ Woody 23.00: Propaganda (Watering Holes) DJ Kon' 23.00: Territoriya (Watering Holes) DJ Dukhov 23.00: Sixteen Ton (Watering Holes)

23.00: Real McCoy (Watering Holes) Open Jam with Contrabandisty 20.00: B. B. King (Watering Holes) D I S C O DJ Kon' 23.00: Territoriya (Watering Holes) Beefeater Party 22.00: Respublika Beefeater (Watering Holes) DJ Jeff 00.00: Garage (Watering Holes) DJ Stanley 01.00: Expat Club (Watering Holes)

THURSDAY

APRIL 11 R O C K Bigudi 23.00: Sixteen Ton (Watering Holes) Alexei Paperny 00.00: Kitaiski Letchik (Watering Holes) NOM 23.00: B-2 (Watering Holes) Jeff & Co 23.00: Bunker (Watering Holes) Off Beat 22.00: B.B. King (Watering Holes) B-12 23.00: News Pub (Watering Holes) C O U N T R Y Kukuruza 00.00: County Bar(Watering Holes) D I S C O DJ Sanches 23.00: Propaganga (Watering Holes) DJs Melory & Operator 23.00: Respublika Beefeater (Watering Holes) DJs Meshkov & Sapunov 23.00: Territoriya (Watering Holes) DJ Grad 05.00: Garage (Watering Holes)

22.00: B.B. King (Watering Holes) Kolibri 22.00: Bunker (Live Muzak) Street Band 23.00: News Pub (Watering Holes) D I S C O DJs ZigZag & Sanches 23.00: Territoriya (Watering Holes) DJs Melory & Operator 23.00: Respublika Beefeater (Watering Holes) DJ Stanley 00.00: Voodoo Lounge (Watering Holes) DJ Grad 05.00: Garage (Watering Holes) DJ Lisa 01.00: Expat Club (Watering Holes)

Miriaf 23.00: News Pub (Watering Holes) D I S C O Sunday Session 23.00: Cult (Watering Holes) Soul Party 23.00: Garage (Watering Holes)

M O N D A Y

APRIL 15 R O C K Gavaitsy 22.00: Bunker (Live Muzak) Vinil Paravoz 23.00: News Pub (Watering Holes) D I S C O L.O.V.E. Project 23.00: Kult (Watering Holes) DJ Goldfinger 23.00: Propaganda (Watering Holes) DJ Kon' 23.00: Territoriya (Watering Holes)

S A T U R D A Y

APRIL 13 R O C K Volpi Vidoplyasova 23.00: Sixteen Tons (Watering Holes) Jimi Tenor 23.00: B2 (Watering Holes) Deti Picasso 22.00: Woodstock (Watering Holes) Colibri 00.00: Kitaiski Letchik (Watering Holes) Max Leonidov 23.00: Sport`s Bar (Watering Holes) Total 22.00: Bunker (Live Muzak) Future 23.00: News Pub (Watering Holes) B L U E S Stainless Blues Band 00.00: County Bar(Watering Holes) Alexei White Belov 22.00: B.B. King (Watering Holes) D I S C O DJ List 20.00: Territoriya (Watering Holes) DJ Asya 00.00: Garage (Watering Holes) DJ Stanley 00.00: Voodoo Lounge (Watering Holes)

T U E S D A Y

APRIL 9 R O C K Jeff & Co 23.00: B-2 (Watering Holes) X-Child 23.00: Bunker (Watering Holes) Long Play 23.00: News Pub (Watering Holes) D I S C O Latino Party 23.00: Papa John (Watering Holes DJ Usef 23.00: Voodoo Lounge (Watering Holes) DJ On-Lee 23.00: Propaganda (Watering Holes) Freedom Sound 23.00: Cult (Watering Holes) DJ Fomin 23.00: Garage (Watering Holes) DJ Dukhov 23.00: Sixteen Tons (Watering Holes)

T U E S D A Y

APRIL 16 R O C K Talita Kum 23.00: B2 (Watering Holes) Aura 22.00: Bunker (Live Muzak) Lot Lorein 00.00: Kitaiski Letchik (Watering Holes) Long Play 23.00: News Pub (Watering Holes) D I S C O DJ On-Lee 23.00: Propaganda (Watering Holes) Freedom Sound 23.00: Cult (Watering Holes) DJ Fomin 23.00: Garage (Watering Holes) DJ Dukhov 23.00: Sixteen Tons (Watering Holes)

S U N D A Y

APRIL 7 R O C K Yah-ta 00.00: Kitaiski Letchik (Watering Holes) Cherta 23.00: Woodstock (Watering Holes) Zaliv Kita 00.00: B2 (Watering Holes) B L U E S Steam Engine 23.00: Real McCoy (Watering Holes) Miriaf 23.00: News Pub (Watering Holes) D I S C O Soul Party 23.00: Garage (Watering Holes) Chinatown Gay Party 23.00: Propaganda (Watering Holes) Sunday Session 23.00: Cult (Watering Holes) Castro Party 23.00: Respublika Beefeater (Watering Holes)

F R I D A Y

APRIL 12 R O C K Tansy Minus 23.00: B-2 (Watering Holes) Volpi Vidoplyasova 23.00: Sport`s Bar (Watering Holes) Total 23.00: Sixteen Tons (Watering Holes) Zapreshennye Barabanshiki 23.00: Respublica Beefeater (Watering Holes) Markshnaider Kunst 00.00: Kitaiski Letchik (Watering Holes) Max Leonidov 23.00: Parizhskaya Zhizn` (Watering Holes) Blues Cousins 23.00: Woodstock (Live Muzak) Blast

WEDNESDAY

APRIL 10 R O C K Katya & Crocodile 23.00: Bunker (Watering Holes) Nashestvie Party 23.00: B-2 (Watering Holes) Nemo 23.00: News Pub (Watering Holes) B L U E S The Black Mamma Dharma Band 00.00: Kitaiski Letchik (Watering Holes) Real McCoy Dixiland

WEDNESDAY

APRIL 17 R O C K Nemo 23.00: News Pub (Watering Holes) D I S C O DJ Kon' 23.00: Territoriya (Watering Holes) Beefeater Party 22.00: Respublika Beefeater (Watering Holes) DJ Jeff 00.00: Garage (Watering Holes) DJ Stanley 01.00: Expat Club (Watering Holes)

S U N D A Y

APRIL 14 R O C K Sektor Gaza 23.00: B2 (Watering Holes) Paporotnik 22.00: Bunker (Live Muzak) B L U E S Steam Engine 23.00: Real McCoy (Watering Holes) Blues Cousins 23.00: Le Club (Watering Holes)

M O N D A Y

APRIL 8 R O C K Vesyelyue Kartinki 23.00: Bunker (Watering Holes) Vinil Paravoz 23.00: News Pub (Watering Holes)

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The Exile: eat your out eat your out the eXile:

Key (for one salad, entree, and one cocktail per person)

$ = UP TO $15.00 · $$ = $15.00 - $30.00 · $$$ = $30.00 - $50.00 · $$$$ = $50.00 -

Sports Bar $$ Cheers: Moscow's king of the Old, but Not-Quite-Faithful has been rejuvenated with a menu that's half bar favorites and half Yakitoriya sushi. From the former, try the Taibbi-tested and approved New Orleans-style sausage dish. And the sushi prices, as at the original Yakitoriya, are about the lowest around and the quality astonishingly good. The bartenders here can mix up one heck of a Caucasian. With their new add-on atrium thingy, they finally seem to have figured out the whole TV-sportsbroadcasts-in-a-sports-bar thing. Cheap sushi seems to attract a decent number of babes who are willing to eat on their own coin. Jeers: Service notoriously slow. Waitresses intentionally look in the other direction when you try to call them over, make you feel guilty for bothering them by ordering dessert. We've said it before and we'll say it again: Europe just doesn't get it. I don't know how the Russians think they're ever gonna beat the Chechens until they start spelling `sports' with an `s' on the end. M: Arbatskaya Phone: 290 - 4311 Address: Novy Arbat 10 Hours: 24 hours Starlite Diner $$ Cheers: New sandwiches put the `take' in shitake! Recent tasting of the Asian Chicken burger proved that healthy can be tasty. They make a mean lasagna now. Four Mozzarella sticks for 6 bucks may seem steep, but they sure are tasty. Gong Pao Chicken pasta comes with garlic bread. Try the new Beef Teriyaki Salad! We also like the Asian Chicken salad, though it's small. Expand-O breakfast menu rules (see under "Breakfast"). Phuket wrap a reliable new standard, despite unexciting potato salad garnish. Thai wraps rap with game at 8 bucks a pop, while popular burrito and sweet `n sour pork plates (around 10 bucks) are now mainstays. We can't lie: we're here at least twice a week. Moscow's top 24-hour eatery. Rippin' Turkey Reuben, club. Galya's our favorite watiress these days. They're serving breakfast later on the weekends now. Jeers: That onion blossom may taste good, but it sits bad. The French Onion soup is just plain bad. Boris Jordan spotted here recently; he got faster service than Taibbi. Milk shake portions seem to be shrinking. You used to get two full glasses, but now... Gong Pao chicken pasta overcooked. Chicken content in Phuket wrap appears to have sharply decreased. Expat Hades. Too many children whose parents love them. M: Diner 1: Mayakovskaya Diner 2: Oktyabrskaya Phone: #1: 290 - 9638; #2: 959-8919 Address: #1: Sadovaya Bolshaya ul. 16; #2: Ul Korovy val. 9 Hours: 24 hours T.G.I. Friday's

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Anus, tastes like

African

Bungalo Bar $-$$ Cheers: eXile alert! Recently showed graphic documentary of vet shoving his arm up a horse's vagina to artificially inseminate it; close-ups of horse's strained face, followed by close-up of vet's arm as he pulled it out of the vagina, made our meal that much tastier! Recently played quality gangsta rap. Like "Catholic High School Girls in Trouble," the "firmenoye blyudo" will make you "cream in your jeans." Moscow's first and only fullservice Ethiopian restaurant is kicking mega-ass all over the place. Gobs of super-spicy flavor, generous portions, terrific selection (including plenty of veggie options), and all at dirt-cheap eXholable prices. Terrific coffee that comes from the country that may or may not have invented it. Cheap beer; friendly staff that tries really hard even when they don't know what the heck it is you're ordering. Ceiling tapestries depict children attempting to swallow own fists. Good french fries if you don't want Afrofood. The superb margaritas come heaping and massive. Jeers: Unfortunately, the `ritas usually take forever to prepare--better to order a beer as well to drink while you wait. Pina Colada served in a beaker. Hot water in bathroom consistently surprises handwashers with thirddegree burns. Expensive bad wine by the glass. If you order the "firmennoye blyudo" expecting the Ethiopian sampler, you might get one of their awful other "firmenniye blyadi," one a horrible seafoodmaynaisse-corn salad, the other a chunk of rubbery meat. Make sure you specify! The Ethiopian assortment seems to get a little more Russified every time we visit--first with beets, then a pointless tomato-cucumber medley... where will it end? Just the kind of place (cheap, exotically ethnic, seemingly progressive) to attract lots of Lonely Planet fuckheads with pasty, smelly beards and fat-ankled "partners." M: Kurskaya Phone: 916-2432 Address: Zemlyanoi val 6 Hours: noon - midnight Limpopo $$$$ Cheers: Moe Snideman and his teenaged date gave it two spears up for the tasty ostrich and yummie crocodile shashlik. Take revenge on annoying Greenpeace hippies by gorging on such endangered delicacies as impala meat--it tastes best raw. Great tacky interior will impress your dates. Overall, a quality choice. Jeers: Expensive. Snideman nearly initiated litigation when the waiter gave his date a cocktail with a stirrer in the shape of a dinosaur; when his date complained that she wanted an African animal, the waiter insisted that the brontosaur-shaped stirrer was in fact a giraffe. Only after heated debate and cross-examining was the matter resolved to Moe's satisfaction, as the wait staff brought out a giraffe-shaped stirrer for his teenage date and obsequiously apologized. M: Kuznetsky Most Phone: 925-6990 Address: Varsonofyesky per. 1 (or Rozhdestvenka 12/1) Hours: noon - midnight Marrakech $$ Cheers: Saalam! A Morrocan restaurant has finally opened! Jeers: Allah Akhbar! It blows! A fatwah should be issued against the propietors and cook. In a word, this place sucks camel dicks. Dull and flavorless food. Waitstaff tries to be helpful, but unfortunately doesn't know their couscous from a hole in the ground. M: Chekhovskaya/Pushkinskaya Phone: 200-3956 Address: Strastnoi bulvar 4 Hours: 11.00 - 23.00 Sindbad

!!! NEW

atmosphere may kill your desire to follow up with an all-night debauch. Some of the meat dishes are said to have slipped. M: Chistiye Prudy Phone: 917-3985 Address: Pokrovka 19 Hours: noon - midnight Tibet Kitchen $$ Cheers: We don't have enough superlatives for this place! Everything is right on. The best Asian food place in town. Garlic noodles give you a boner. And, they are good for filling your date up so that she won't order more. Veggie or chicken spring rolls and Sha-Baklay rock, as does the the sweet-and-sour chicken. Pleasant atmosphere, good service, no loud music, inoffensive orange walls. Kalmyk babe waitress factor steadily rising. Full-scale Lhasa mural helps pass the time while the food cooks; if you look really closely, you can see monks undressing in the windows. Management so nice, you'd want them to be your neighbors. Jeers: All-Kundun, all-the-time video show makes you embarrassed for Martin Scorcese. British people often spotted here. Creepy junkies hang out in stairwell upstairs. M: Okhotny Ryad Phone: 923-2422, 961-3441 Address: Kamergersky per. 5/6 Hours: noon - 23.00 Zholtoe More $$$ Cheers: Tasteful upscale Asian interior, top-notch service, lots of Asiantypes on the staff to make it feel authentic. Marat Safin recently seen here with a serious babe in tow. Three separate chefs serve Sushi, Chinese and Japanese food, as well as extensive cocktail selections, the likes of which you'll rarely see. Moscow's best California rolls. Unusual rolls like "Tokusima Roll", salmon, eel, crab with seaweed and vegetables (350R) and a hot marinated tuna roll. Chinese is of the respectable-quality, mildly-spiced variety. Excellent King's Prawns with black Chinese mushrooms in Oyster Sauce (780R), Szechuan Chicken (600R). Waiters serve tea from a super-long spigot. Impresses dates. Jeers: Too pricey for cheap-O eXholes. Name sounds like "zhopoe more" to us, though that should be a "cheer". Chinese fare too mildly spiced for those of us used to the real thang. Crispy Duck mu-shu style (470R) was too crispy, not enough ducky. Can't anyone get duck right here (besides the Tandoor folks)? M: Polyanka Phone: 953-36-34 Address: Polyanka Bol. ul. 27 Hours: 12.00 - last person

represent or what?! Starlite has a giant placemat menu for breakfast. Now, you can order a Mediterranean omelet with sun-dried tomatoes and mozzarella, raisin-cinnamin French Toast, breakfast burritos and more! The Egg Sandwich ($7) at Starlite #1 is a winner! You get not one but two heaping Egg McMuffin-type deals, only the eggs are over-easy, so the yolks lusciously spills onto the plate. Guys, make this a 24-hour menu option, will yuh?! Simply the best breakfast in town. Damn good pancakes and so much friggin' more! Most items available all day; bottomless coffee 611am. Jeers: Two seperate scarring episodes at #2 left Rudnitsky no choice but to take out a contract on the head chef: a breakfast burrito tasted like it had been refrigerated over night... still, he might not have noticed if it hadn't been served ice cold; on his next visit, his eggs came with turkey (!?) links instead of sausage and "toast" that was as white and untoasted as a newborn albino's ass. Something happened to the "Eggs in Filo"-- the pastry is significantly less flaky. Weak potato grease-balls. Granola cakes drenched in syrup, which may be a "cheer" to some. Despite competition from newcomers, gamely refuses to lower prices; less consistent than it used to be; high Fred Weir factor. End of full-service breakfast hours always catches people off-guard.

Jethro would live in. M: Arbatsksya Phone: 291-3759 Address: Nikitski Bulvar dom 5, str. 1 (through the post office arch off Novy Arbat) Hours: 11.00 - 23.00 Genatsvale $ Cheers: Green lobio (50R) as good as it gets; large clay pot of piping hot red lobio (35R) is one of Moscow's single best deals. Order the superdelish khachipuri (140R), rich kharcho (50R) and Moscow's best khinkali. Also serves a massive variety of lamb and pork dishes, including ribs, knuckle, shashliki, and things we've never heard of. Real borjomi, Georgian wines, if you're willing to pay. Jeers: eXile alert! Quality has gone down as popularity has gone up. Where have we seen this before? Oh yeah, EVERYWHERE! Monster PA speakers blast at night; to avoid it, you have to sit at dwarf tables in the back. Expect tables packed with black-clad Georgians giving 10-minute toasts in which all guests have to stand with tired arms holding up shaky glasses of vodka. M: Kropotkinskaya Phone: 202-0445 Address: Ostozhenko 12/1 Hours: 11.00 - midnite Guriya $ Cheers: Along with its sister-restaurant, Mama Zoya, this is the cheapest--and hence, most popular--Georgian food in Moscow. Popular with expats and backpackers. Eggplant and khachapuri are musts. Jeers: They made us look bad when we reported a false rumor that they'd burned down. Very small portions. Discus-sized khachapuri. You have to drink the counterfeit Georgian wine and pretend you like it; long waits with other expats can be embarrassing. It's like so '93, ya know? M: Park Kultury Phone: 246-0378 Address: Komsomolsky Prospect 7/3 Hours: 7.00 - 11.00... noon - 14:30... 17:30 - 22:30 Khizhina $ Cheers: Khichiny rule. They're like khachapuri, only with potato. Do these guys have a diverse culture, or what? This place is looking to become the first Georgian McDonald's. Now in addition to the original, Khizhina's manager has bought out and renamed Russki Dom Pivo and Sedlo, too! Those crazy Georgians. Yummy meat pies, adzhapsandal, and suluguni options go well with the genuine Georgian wine straight from the barrel. Uncle Tom's Cabin atmosphere makes for the most amusingly named house cocktail we've yet to see--the non-alcoholic fruit smoothie "Uncle Tom." Jeers: Not particularly worth a trip if you don't live nearby. Grim waitresses. No diet soda. M: Savyolovskaya, Pushkinskaya, and more! Phone: 285-9664 Address: Butyrskaya Ul. 8, Gnzdnikovski Pr. 12 Hours: 12.00 - 23.00 Mama Zoya $ Cheers: The old favorite has moved once again, thus at least foiling a few beigist expats in their quest for reheated Georgian mediocrity. Jeers: Despite all evidence to the contrary, most remaining expats still seem to believe this to be the only Georgian restaurant in town. Remember folks: being a cheapskate is no excuse for having bad taste. We continue to steer well clear of this place and its seething bands of LonelyPlanet-toting beigist militants, preferring the superior offerings elsewhere in town. Get there after 9 and you might not get in. Counterfeit wine still sucks; furthermore, there's no longer any excuse for it. M: Kropotkinskaya Phone: 201-7743 Address: Sechenovsky per. 8 Hours: 12.00 - 11.00 Ne Goroi $$ Cheers: Could be Moscow's best Georgian restaurant that isn't Dioscurious, we poo-poo you not. Great kharcho, red lobio, khachapuri, eggplant. Seedy old Soviet atmosphere. Attentive service. Jeers: Located annoying far out, across from American Express. M: Sportivnaya Phone: 245-6670 Address: Ul. 10 Let Oktyabrya d. 11 Hours: 12.00 - 11.00 Noev Kovcheg $$ Cheers: American citizens still get 25% discount, but Canadians (they make you show a passport, so no sneaking by, you hosers), Brits, and, well, everyone else in the world has to pay full price! Yippee! Newly renovated upper level and a brand new name have been added to what's still Moscow's finest Armenian eatery. New dishes included kufta ("whipped beef" meatballs) and half a dozen varieties of sig fish shipped in special. Eggplant, lobio, and cheese appetizers still rule; literally dozens of shashlik varieties, which now come on animal-identifier sticks for ease of reference. 30% off takeout menu includes a whole suckling pig. Best selection of authentic Armenian brandies around. Jeers: Noah's Ark is kind of a lame name for a restaurant. They

Brunch

Baltschug $$$ Cheers: The schmooze-central corporate brunch option; this is where expense accounts and government aid packages are blown; good chefs, German efficiency. Good smoked fish, hot veal, spaghetti bar.Their "Linner" ad campaign in the Moscow Times was jeered as sexist on the Expat List. We originally had that listed as a jeer, but we've realized our mistake. Jeers: Detsky Panadoll's Marc Schleifer, along with his ex-girlfriend and her parents, were struck on the sidewalk by a drunk driver outside this place. M: Tretyakovskaya Phone: 230-6500 Address: Baltschug Hotel, 1 Ulitsa Baltschuga Hours: 8.00 - late Lomonosov $$$ Cheers: Moscow's most delicious brunch option: tasteful music and stage show, quality fish, caviar and meats; if you've got $47, come here for Sunday's best. Jeers: Nothing much to jeer. M: Belorusskaya Phone: 931-9700 Address: Tverskaya-Yamskaya 1st Ul. 19, Palace Hotel Hours: 12.00 - 01.00 Metropol $$$$ Cheers: Turn of the century elegance in a tasteful setting; best place for tourists and business people to spend a Sunday afternoon; spacious interior allows for private conversation. Jeers: Philipe Chabeaux doesn't like our newspaper, and in fact, neither did one of his customers; the most expensive at $52. M: Ploschad Revolutsii Phone: 927-6061 Address: Teatralny Proyezd 1/4 Radisson-Slavyanskaya $$$ Cheers: Nice open setting in the lobby around a large, elegant fountain; great selection of fish, salads; least expensive brunch option at $35 a head. You can pretend you're the crazy nip in Fargo and say to your brunch partner, "Well, it's a Radisson, so you know it's pretty good." Ann Blundy is leaving Moscow, so you won't have to worry about bumping into her while she piles her plate up and growls at the Russian women. Jeers: Desserts don't taste quite as good as they look. M: Kievskaya Phone: 941-8020 Address: Berezhkovskaya nab. 2, Radisson-Slavjanskaya Hotel Hours: 12.00 - 15.00

$ Cheers/Jeers: See Ariel Cohen respond to Arab mediocrity! M: Park Kultury Phone: 246-40-53/-29-51 Address: ul. Timura Frunze 11 Hours: 12.00 - 04.00 U Yuzefa $$$ Cheers: Bills itself as a Jewish restaurant; one of the early private restaurants. Jeers: The continued existence of this restaurant may be why Russians are growing increasingly anti-Semitic. M: Paveletskaya Phone: 238-4646 Address: Dubininskaya ul. 11/17 Hours: 12.00 - 24.00

$$ Cheers: Good place to bring a date you don't know where to bring. Waitresses chat you up in English so much, you'll feel like a vacationing porn star. That Chicken Caesar salad is a great deal and will hit the spot at times. Moe approves of the "Sicilian Sandwich" lunch deal. $10 Filet Mignon among the best deals in town. Raucous milkshakes for three bucks. Business lunch deals (every fifth one free) and the $9 soup-saladsandwich made even our general counsel roar with approval. Those nachos are a stoner's dream. Jeers: eXile alert! They recently gave us about a dozen french fries with our burger for lunch. High "Greatest Love of All" factor. When we called the manager over she said it was right. "Sto gram, da," she said. "Sto gram french fries?" we asked. "Da, nu chto?'' Maybe should be called Thank God It's Sovkovo. The problems with the pasta dishes may not amount to a hill of beans in this world, but that doesn't mean you should order them. This place, and it's infuriatingly overenthusiastic, permasmiling wait staff, is seriously hard to take after seeing the movie Office Space. Lunch items (such as Caesar chicken sandwich and Cajun pasta) tend to suck. Groups will find their entrees brought out at different times. Don't bother with the sketchy soups or the turkey reuben. M: Pushkinskaya Phone: 299-2032 Address: Ul. Tverskaya 18 Hours: Noon - midnight

Balkan

011 $$$ Cheers: The Dalmatian Coast may still be a bit unsafe, so head to this Yugoslav restaurant for a taste! Good place for large parties or small dates. Fish dishes rule. Dark, candle-lit interior gives you that air of Serbian intrigue. Jeers: War-mongering "Third Way" Brits and "I used to be a liberal" Americans may want to avoid coming here if they want to maintain their image of tough-love humanitarians. Taibbi owns a Dalmatian. M: Mayakovskaya Phone: 209-0963 Address: Sadovaya Triumfalnaya 10 Hours: 10.00 - 22.00 BoEmi $$ Cheers: Tasty Serbian joint with a homey atmosphere that even a fully fledged NATO member should be able to appreciate. Outstanding hearty bean soup. Deliciously salty bacon, yummy homemade sausages... in other words, a good place to visit if you're in the mood for some serious meat action. Jeers: But if you're not... Eating here more than once a week could be hazardous to your regularity. Why do you think those Balkan types are always fighting so much? Rudnitsky wasn't overly impressed with the cabbage salad. A bit of a hike from the center... and from the nearest metro. M: Sportivnaya Phone: 248-5317 Address: Abrikosovsky per., 1 Hours: 11.00 - 23.00 Drago $ - $$ Cheers: Excellent and well-priced Serbian restaurant will allow all you war-guilty Americans to finally taste Europe's newest darling's superb cuisine. Try the minced meat sausages (200R), a huge plate for only one, as well as wonderful soups and wines. One of central Moscow's best lunch specials: for 150R you get salad, soup, main course, dessert and drink, all of which were good quality. Jeers: Rumors that Milosevic's son tried to set up a perfume store in the garderob here. M: Chistiye Prudi, Turgenevskaya Phone: 923-04-92 Address: Myasnitskaya 13 Hours: 12:00 - 24:00 (Irish Pub and Billiards ­ 24 hours) Mehana Bansko $$ Cheers: Cheap-O Bulgarian wines Mavrud `82 and Merlot `82 (~$40) ain't like those fakes you get in the store. Try the chushka bereg--red pepper stuffed with real cheese that our own Dima swears by! Pork marinated in vodka and soy a hit with Ruskies and slavophiles alike. Waitresses actually have an opinion about the food! Fantastic meat dishes. Best sausages in town. Shopsky salad a solid starter. Features amusing spectacle of Russians pretending to be proud to represent Bulgaria. They suggest a wine to go with your dinner if you're too dense to decide for yourself. A Western reporter can dine here with a woman who is not his wife. Jeers: Perhaps the worst--and loudest--live musical act in any Moscow restaurant. Your body will feel like one giant exposed nerve after just five minutes of listening to this ear-splitting Bulgarian folk music. And they go on for hours. If you kill any of the musicians, we'll make your bail. Why can't they let you eat in peace in this town? Atrocious service; order beverages a half-hour in advance if you need them. Undrinkable cappucino. More expensive than you'd think. Philip Kirkorov said to be connected to the ownership. M: Smolenskaya Phone: 244-7387 Address: Smolenskaya 9/1 Hours:12.00-24.00 Fri & Sat till 02.00

Asian

Baan Thai $$-$$$ Cheers: eXile general counsel Moe Snideman recently gave this place two briefcases up. Hot new Thai joint from the Asian-food wizards that brought you the legendary Darbar and Five Spice. Tasty assorted satay with yummy peanut sauce; super-spicy noodle soups in various renderings; spicy duck curry that had Lionel on his feet cheering. Excellent service, wood-heavy back room is regally luxurious, Singhs Gold beer for just $3. Staff convincingly pretended to admire Krazy Kevin's and Taibbi's absurd white hairdos. Jeers: Mr. Snideman, Esq., did complain about the failure to lay out the rice first before the entrees, which he referred to as "potentially actionable." They were out of Rambutan when we were there. Dimly lit Euro-trashy front room is pretty cheesy looking. M: Kievskaya Phone: 240-0597 Address: Bolshaya Dorogomilovskaya, 11 Hours: 12:00 - 24.00 Bangkok $$$ Cheers: Moscow's original Thai eatery. Cool interior and a decent prawn satay with smokin' peanut sauce; very few grammatical errors on the English menu. Plekhanov Institute students hang out in the downstairs bar and drink away the schoolday. Jeers: Seems the Thai head chef has long since departed for greener pastures, leaving his barely trained Russian counterpart to muddle along in overpriced bogusville. With the right mix of customers, the place can seem downright airport lounge-ish. Surprise... a live band that sucks! M: Dobryninskaya Phone: 237-3074 Address: Bolshoi Strochenovsky per. 10 Hours: 14:00 - 23:00 (until 1:00 on weekends) Emerald Buddha $$$ Cheers: Good appetizers; the spicy peanut sauce in particular has got game. Singha gold beer; impressive interior, including a saltwater tank with a bitchin' clown fish. That wacky osmosis coffee contraption that reminds of a John Carpenter movie--and it makes a pretty good cup of coffee. Jeers: eXile alert! eXile General Counsel Moe Snideman graced the Buddha and reportedly nearly caned the chef for mediocre food, and did succeed in bringing the waitress to tears over the "ridiculously high prices." Just one more reminder that you don't fuck with Moe's wallet, folks. Spotty entrees and salads. Lame Euro-desserts. The phad Thai still look funny. M: Chistye Prudy Phone: 925-9482 Address: 1 Ulitsa Sretenka (entry from Rozhdestvensky Bulvar) Hours: noon - midnight Karma Bar

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Caucasian

Dioscuria $ Cheers: Those "recent reports" about the decline in quality here have been vastly overstated. Two visits in the past two weeks here have shown the basics all back at usual high quality. Summer patio means you can escape the live music! Stick with the basics--lobio, eggplant roulette and dolma--and you can't go wrong. Ruble prices unaffected by global energy trends, making Dioscarius one of the greatest bargains around! Almost as cheap as Guriya, but quality closer to Suliko. One taste of their sturgeon shashlyk or Adzharian khachapuri (with a fried egg in the middle) and you'll be hooked. The delicious lavash bread comes piping hot and is perfect for sopping up leftover juices. Jeers: Loud drunk bilingual Russians can inhibit conversation. Khachapuri too cheesy, lacking integrity. Impossible not to over-order. Still has deafening live music sung on weekend evenings. Menu doesn't quite have all the favorites; sometimes the backroom mafia feel is a bit too realistic; building looks like the kind of place your inbred cousin

American

American Bar & Grill

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$$ Cheers: eXile alert! Nachos have improved! Huge chicken-fried steak plate will hit the spot if you're in exactly the right kind of filthy mood. Gazpacho is back and it ain't half bad. The biz lunch specials at Taganka offer massive sandwich-salad-drink deals for $5.50! Try the quesadilla. Quality menu, big portions, and terrific outdoor dining at Taganskaya. Veggie fajitas are a good Val-U. Respectable non-Italian pasta. Jeers: eXile alert! Forcing your waitress to repeat the word ostriy back to you five times will not ensure a spicy bloody mary. Food acquiring a kind of Ohio truck stop quality at nouvelle cuisine prices. Stay away from the buffalo-wings--more like buffalo chips. In extraordinary statement of confidence in Russia's economic prospects, the new menus switched prices from dollars to rubles. They are not confident in the ruble, though, and inflated prices an average of 20%. Philly cheese steak should be renamed the Philly jiz steak. You'll have to shave twice before you get your drink. Can be expensive for what you get. Biz lunch service can be slow, but it's improved. Meat dishes at biz lunch can bite. M: Mayakovskaya; Taganskaya Phone: 251-7999; 912-3615 Address: 1st Tverskaya-Yamskaya 2/1; Zemlyanoi val 59. Hours: 24 hours; 12:00 - 3:00

$ Cheers: Belorusskaya location long ago turned into the slut-heavy Dirty Dancing. We've recently warmed up to their chicken club sandwiches-- they're pretty bonus, eh. The Canadian branch of a US fast-food chain brings you a serviceable version of everyone's favorite Hebrew leavened bread product. Two dozen varieties to choose from, plus various sorts of allegedly good cream cheese. We like the spicy one with tomato sauce and jalapenos. One of those black-clad hostesses is hot! Jeers: Can't smoke upstairs--and if you do, some nabob is bound to bust you. Taibbi got stood up by an NTV reporter here--and he had to wake up from a major-league hangover just to get there. M: Mayakovskaya Phone: 299-9602, 299-9702 Address: Tverskaya 27 Hours: 10.00 - 22.00 Pit Stop $$$ Cheers: Jalapeno peppers dish rocks! They finally replaced the leaky vagina ketchup with good ol' Heinz! The "Gol-Mostovoi" sandwich is fast becoming an eXile favorite. Service has been steadily improving. They keep the beer coming and don't mind if you're inappropriately drunk. In fact, they seem to like it. Eminently edible fish-and-chips, burgers, potato wedges, and other TV-friendly munchies. Extensive ice cream menu helps kill the tedium of the third and early fourth quarters. Burger served with fried egg both original and perversely satisfying. Jeers: Yankee Hotdog yanked from the menu, in spite of post-9/11 resurgence in patriotism. Waitresses sometimes confuse "puree" with baked potatoes. Soccer, soccer, soccer. That's not Pete Rose's real jersey. If women get to have their own female security guards to search their handbags, how come Detsky Panadoll lead singer Marc Schleifer doesn't have the right to be searched by a Jew? Service tends to be inexplicably slow. Waitresses stand in front of the television on 3rd and 8. We know a woman who was forced to open her tampon case by the upstairs security guards--as though she might have a weapon inside. M: Arbatskaya Phone: 291-1130/70 Address: Novii Arbat 21 (inside Sportland) Hours: 24 hours

Breakfast

For contact details, see Restaurant's main listing (as indicated). American Bar & Grill $$ (American) Cheers: Breakfast at Mayakovskaya features Moscow's numero uno salmon `n cream cheese omlette, as well as a tasty huevos rancheros dish and stuffed french toast. Jeers: Coffee can suck; quality of Tex-Mex style dishes spotty. Recent tasting of salmon `n cream cheese omelet left us not feeling particularly good about life. Bunker $ (Live Muzak, under clubs) Cheers: Bargain-basement prices, super-centrally located, available round-the-clock; the finest $1.50 omelet this side of Narva; cheap booze can come in handy. Jeers: Limited options; non-breakfast items pretty lame. Cruise $ (European) Cheers: $1 breakfasts!. Jeers: We ain't done tried it, and we done never will. Pancho Villa $ (Latin) Cheers: Finally tried it, and it was tootin' good. Everything's cheap as hell, in the $2-3 dollar range. The three eggs with sausage and bacon was a hearty, greasy meal, but the pancakes (with banana, walnut or raisin) was the big winner, with big portions. Omelet does the job. Decent coffee. d Jeers: No huevos rancheros (yet), only 5 choices. ate Starlite Diner

Upd

$$ Cheers: After dinner, you don't have to decide where to head. Eclectic Southeast Asian menu at Val-U prices. Try the superb Tibetan dumplings, decent Vietnamese vegetable spring rolls, sweet `n sour pork, Bhutan chicken (for those who don't like it too spicy). Good selection of Vietnamese noodle dishs, Thai. Dining room viewing of the talent, where dyevs outnumber guys pretty handily. We'll be back for more! Just one more reason to spend at least one weekend night here! Jeers: Waitresses overly concerned about pillow case theft. Shrek's girlfriend scored a khalyava meal here before dumping him. Main courses slightly less tasty than appetizers. Service can be slow for parties of 20+. M: Kuznetsky Most Phone: 924-5633 Address: Pushchnaya ul. 3 Hours: 19.00 - 06.00 Tibet Himalaya $$ Cheers: She-Baklay still first-rate appetizer; waitesses the very picture of grace and politeness. Try the Momo dumplings and ask for the spicy (we mean SPICY) sauce, Nomad soup, any of the pork entrees, but especially the egg-fried noodles. Make sure you order the Eggplant with spicy garlic sauce, which is still a winner. A great place for a date. Jeers: First Tibetan tea in the city to be steeped for 5 minutes in vagina. Soy noodles with veggies have even less flavor than we expected! Most recent visit for business lunch was kind of a bummer. Mellow-inducing

$$ (American) Cheers: eXile alert! Damn their omelets are good! Do these guys

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Page 15

The Secrets of Russian Cooking Revealed!

played the same cheesy pop song 17 times in a row last time we were there. M: Kitai-Gorod Phone: 917-0717 Address: Maly Ivanovsky per. 9 Hours: 12.00 - 24.00ktyabrya d. 11 Hours: 12.00 - 11.00 Semiramis $$$$ Cheers: Oligarchs, and Moe Snideman, frequent this Ossetian restaurant, one of Moscow's undiscovered treasures. The best shashlyk in Moscow, and possibly the world. Top-notch dolma. Superior service. Have an Oriental room in the back with hookahs. Very Mercedes Jeep and body-guard friendly. Jeers: We can't afford it. M: Arbatskaya Phone: 244-7262 Address: B. Nikolopeskovskii Per. d 15 Hours: 12.00 - 24.00 U Pirosmani $$$$ Cheers: Was a favorite for tourists; window-side views of the illuminated Novodevichy Convent, tasteful interior and seemingly authentic ethnic violinist. All dishes reasonably yummy. Prices reem guide book toting tourists. Jeers: eXile's editorial staff fucked a whore from here. Ew, that's gross! Don't come here for the food; Bill Clinton wrote a glowing review, and offered the waitress an internship in return... M: Sportivnaya Phone: 247-1926 Address: 4 Novodevichy Proyezd Hours: 12.00 - 23.00

!!! NEW

look like. Try the massive portioned entrees like chicken in black bean sauce or the all-you-can-eat buffet (which includes desserts). Also has excellent sushi and (as yet untried) dim sum. Kids under 10 accompanied by an adult eat free! Jeers: Too bad we hate kids. The price is the only real obstacle; buffet is $50 a head (even the 50% off during lunch hours price seems pretty steep); sushi is also pricey. Large proportion of families inside is disappointing after seeing all the Mercs lined up outside. M: Dinamo Phone: unknown Address: Begovaya 28 Hours: 12.00 - 24.00

to be vastly exagerrated. The only known advertiser in the Russia Journal. M: Tretyakovskaya Phone: 239-3045/6 Address: Raushskaya Nab. 4 Hours: 18.00 - 6.00 Cafe des Artistes $$$ Cheers: Just another place to have been gobbled up by that mysterious and greedy Stella team. Three-course $12 business lunch reminiscent of the Stella of old. Drinks are relatively cheap. Stay tuned for further updates as our stomachs and psyches permit. Jeers: We've seen so many of Rosinter's management-partnership deals at this place crumble almost overnight that we're far from optimistic about the long-term prospects. Time will tell, as the hacks love to say. M: Okhotny Ryad Phone: 292-0673 Address: Kamergersky per.5/6 Hours: 12.00 - midnight Columbus Club $$ Cheers: Spanish cuisine for the masses! The chef may be Russian, but he seems to know his business. We dig the cold cut assortment (incl. chorize and tangy Manchero cheese), creamy chef's salad, zesty creole soup, and tequila-marinated Torrero steak. House wine for a mere 50R per glass. Interesting desserts, surprisingly good coffee. Relaxed rustic atmosphere, and music that's not too loud, for a change. Jeers: Location a bit out of the way for non-neighborhood types. Avoid the quesadillas. M: Sokol Phone: 943-6029 Address: Ulitsa Alabyana 10/1 Hours: 24 hours Crazy Milk $$$ Cheers: Old friend chef Andreas of Pancho Villa and Azteca fame is reinventing himself with food approved by Atlantic Monthly phenom Jeffrey Tayler. This location isn't Moosehead anymore, so there's no longer any need to worry about striking out with crooked-toothed British lesbians here. Excellent Ribeye steak and grilled salmon. Menu created with an eye toward compliance with geopolitical realities. Jeers: Tayler misspelled "Pancho Villa" in his review; we don't know what a "Poncho" is. Milk shouldn't be crazy, but rather still and sterile. M: Dobryninskaya Phone: 230-7333 Address: Ul. Bolshaya Polyanka 54 Hours: 11.30 - 6.00 Cruise $ - $$ Cheers: New complex on Myasnitskaya features "Captain Hook" restaurant, whose menu cutely jokes about slave trading. Start with the spinach salad with mushrooms and bacon (160R) or Greek salad (225R). Cheap-O Lobster Le Hook (690R) stuffed with shrimp, crab, cheese and onions may be frozen, but it's tast-tee. Finish off with the rightly-done fried ice cream (90R). Jeers: Other menu jokes aren't tasteless, just lame. Life-size Captian Hook may scare children. Scallops sucked. M: Chistiye Prudi, Turgenevskaya Phone: 923-0492 Address: Myasnitskaya 13 Hours: Restaurant 12:00 - 24:00; Irish Pub 24 hours El Dorado $$$ Cheers: Former State Prosecutor General Yuri Skuratov was videotaped boning two teenaged whores in an apartment right under the great El Dorado sign! This is sort of the City Grill for super-krutoi flatheads, the place where famous and pseudo-famous Russians go to be seen. There's a smaller cafe that's always packed with models, molls and coked-up contract killers. The restaurant's membership-only, featuring heads so flat and babes so babed that you actually feel like an untermensch. Jeers: Ridiculous light show makes you think you're at a confused Laserium playing Pugacheva instead of Floyd. Also, the cheesy waterfall with the tiled butterflies stopped working. Is your head flat? No? Then poka, Mr. Foreigner! M: Borovitskaya Phone: 238-9154 Address: Bolshaya Polyanka Ul. 1/3 Hours: 11:30 - 23:30 Embassy Club $$-$$$ Cheers: Big ol' walk-in humidor full of Cubans would be enough to make most downsized Silicon Alley yuppies cum in their pants. Leather couches do not put you at risk of Foot and Mouth Disease. Neither do the steaks, which rated a "pretty fine" from our own Dan Higgins. Great ventilation means you don't have to die of second hand smoke. Good selection of single malts and tasty desserts. Proves that calling the management gay is the best way to achieve results. Big portions. Jeers: Stay away from the artificially thickened mushroom soup. The fettuccini alfredo is only slightly better than felching a cheap whore. The bread was stale during a recent late dinner. M: Pushkinskaya Phone: 229-7185 Address: Bryusov per. 8/10 (Sign visible from Tverskaya) pdated

U

Jeers: Our Baltika was flatter than a double-mastectomy patient; for some reason waitress wouldn't take it off our table even after we had finished off the beers we ordered to replace it. Duck breast appetizer predictably uninspiring. Indentured-servant musical duo played shitty Depeche Mode covers while bored, sober girlfriends looked on in muted despair. M: Sukharevskaya Phone: 207-0498 Address: Daev per. 2 Hours: Early `til Late Liverpool

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$$$ Cheers: Tastefully decorated Asian joint with the ideologically sound name makes up in atmosphere for what it lacks in flavor. Good soups and excellent selection of Asian beers. Post-prandial contract killings here on the fabled 1905 restaurant strip seem to be happening with less frequency these days. Jeers: The Thai, Mexican, Italian, Malaysian, Indonesian, and Indian promised by the flyers is a fib worthy of the Great Leader. Beers are way expensive; food tends toward the bland. Watch out for the jam-like sweet and sour entrees. Asian-looking fellow standing near the grill seems to be there only for show. M: Ulitsa 1905 goda Phone: 255-5955/42 Address: Ulitsa 1905 goda 2 Hours: 12.00 - 2.00 Ostrov Formosa $$$ Cheers: This Taiwanese "Ostrov" is one of the best sub-exhorbitant Chinese-type options in town. 3-course business lunch is pricier than most at $15, but worth every penny (choice of 4 entrees, soup, and a beer). Superb soups and noodles; kick-ass sweet and sour pork. Prices still on the high side, but portions seem to have increased in size. Jeers: Bush pledged to do "whatever it takes" to defend the real Ostrov Formosa. American boys will die on the altar of cheap t-shirts. Some say it's not worth the high tab, particularly the biz lunch special, which can't compete with Tibet K. down the street. Surrounding neighborhood overflowing with dangerous construction sites. Pre-recorded Chinese voice that greets you as you arrive and depart spooks us. M: Pushkinskaya Phone: 229-7216 Address: Leontyevsky per. 23 Hours: 12.00 - 24.00 Shyolk $ Cheers: The first reasonably priced member of the Moscow-Berlin-Rome family! Multiple course business lunch for a measly R168, and it comes with beer or wine. Now we're talking business! Good place to impress a Russian date. They have big dim sum selection (~R150)... Jeers: ... which they rather literally translated as `pelmeni' in Russian. And that's exactly what they taste like. Chinese food spiced for the Russian palette. You can even eat the red pepper sauce by the spoonful. If this food were any blander, it might have a shot at the US presidency. M: Belorusskaya Phone: 251-41-34; 250-53-89 Address: 1-aya Tverskaya Yamskaya 29, str. 1 Hours: 11.00 - 05.00

$$ Cheers: As hard as it is to believe, this English-style restaurant is actually very good. Top-notch soups, particularly the Crayfish, billed as «King Arthur's favorite». Excellent Sea Bass, and we really liked the greasy Welsh Toast, smothered in cheese and garlic, for only 75R. Played Eminem vids at reasonable volumen. McElwee decided not to commit suicide after coming here. Jeers: No matter how good, it's still British. Supposedly have a Beatles cover band singing songs like «All You Neet Ees ze Lahv» and «Ze Long Ant Vindink Rot». All items on menu translated into German for the workers at the Damlier building next door. Meaning that the Yellow Submarine Salad is named the «U-Boat», bringing back bad memories of Dubya-Dubya Two. M: Novokuznetskaya Phone: 933-62-36 d Address: Bolshaya Ordynka 40/1 ate Upd Hours: noon to the last client News Pub $$ Cheers: eXile alert! Big changes are afoot here. We can't tell you what, but trust us, the new management has brought you many a culinary pleasure. Plenty of tasty fish dishes that are so fresh they might jump off your plate. Jeers: Can be kind of a bore, especially when dining with a fellow from the Nation Institute. Atmosphere a little too after worky for unemployed folks to enjoy a meal. M: Teatralnaya, Kuznetsky Most Phone: 928-83-43 Address: Petrovka 18 Hours: Sun-Tue: 12.00 - 02.00; Wed-Sat: 12.00 - 06.00 Night Flight $$-$$$ Cheers: Yes, we know, you don't really come here for THIS kind of food. But you should. It's rare to say this, but literally every item on the menu is either really good or great. Offer three portion sizes for each item, so you can mix `n match or stuff your face: taster, starter or main. Since we can't list everything we liked, we'll mention our favorites: Thai/Lobster-salmon ravioli soup, rich in flavor with coconut red curry base; elk carpaccio; the new wok dishes including green curry chicken noodles; the tiger shrimp with mango/tomato salsa and coconut base; Reindeer in a jerry jus. And yes, the Swedish meatballs (370R), a massive dish hearty enough for even the sternest Swede after sacking a coastal Celtic settlement. Excellent service, good wine selection. Sometimes good looking chicks will smile at you as you eat, increasing your self-esteem. Jeers: We heard that the duck wasn't all that, so we didn't try it. M: Tverskaya Phone: 229-41-65 Address: ul. Tverskaya 17 Hours: 18.00 - 05.00 Orangeria $$$ Cheers: Giant Tatlin-esque bowling pin out front earns two Communist Manifestos way up! Sturgeon dishes quite nice. Cool interior will make you sentimental for LA in the mid-80s. You can spend every evening of entire week there, without ever repeating the same activity twice. Jeers: Food solidly mediocre in spite of good intentions. M: Krasnopresnenskaya Phone: 253-0253 Address: Malaya Gruzinskaya 15 Hours: 12.00 - 05.00 Pivnushka $$ Cheers: Intricately detailed woodsy bi-level beer hall with an Austrian chef and a Bavarian menu that's surprisingly inventive, not to mention surprisingly affordable. Caesar salad and lentil soup are both solid. Fried camembert with currant jam is unlike anything in town. Super beer selection with delicious Paulaner coming soon; 2-for-1 happy hours daily from noon to 1 and 5 to 6 p.m. Jeers: You never know when some drunken German is going to break into ear-splitting song. M: Leninsky Prospekt Phone: 952-5567 Address: Leninsky prospekt 28 Hours: 12.00 - 6.00 The Real McCoy $$ Cheers: For the first 3 months, it never even occurred to us to try anything more filling than the white Russians. Basically serves big slabs o' meat (R400-R700) that actually come rare if you want `em to. Don't try anything too fancy and you'll walk away completely sated. Some Mexicanish options catch the eye. Veggie sambosas (R80) are mighty tasty, the others (meat and seafood) ain't. Great hangover food and a new breakfast menu (yeehaw!) that starts serving at 5. We haven't tried it yet, but how can you screw up eggs and potatos? Look out Starlite! Desserts (about R100) dense but worth it if you're still in the game late. Better sit in the back room if you want to talk. Did we mention it's the best bar in town? Jeers: Irish St. Pattie's Day menu a wash and, to add insult to injury, our waiter was in a kilt. Service gives you time to stop and smell the roses for sale across the street. Spicy the Mexican food is not. The chickpea and lamb soup (R180) needs to meet a blender. M: Barrikadnaya Phone: 255-41-44 Address: Kudrinskaya pl. 1 (in the Stalin skyscraper) Hours: Always Scandinavia $$$$ Cheers: Might be the best burger in town, but is it worth fifteen bucks? Perhaps your best all-around dining option in Moscow--if you've got the dough. Rare tuna steak ($28) and salmon filets ($26) that would rate high in any Western capital. Try the Indochine ($10), a creamy blue-ribbon Thai-flavored seafood soup. Summer outdoor seating and cheap-O menu appeal to eXholes. Swedish maidens with those funny accents sometimes greet you; nearly every dish is delicious, especially the fishy ones. All products flown in from Schveeden. Jeers: Interior could use a little pepping up; so could the Swedish

By Shausha Shaleesa

I had lots of different jobs in my youth: street whore in Chelyabinsk (where I grew up), "secretary" for an Indian businessman in Moscow, sex slave somewhere near Tel Aviv. But the position I liked best was given to me after I escaped to Russia without a passport and was detained on the border and sentenced to ten years in a labor camp. The prison's authorities, knowing grueling physical labor requires a lot of calories, decided to make the most out of what they had. In exchange for allowing me to finish work an hour early, I made delicious food with the meager supplies given us. But it was always guaranteed to be a hit among the prisoners. There was never so much as a drop of soup left over. I think that real cooks should learn to make do without so as to really know their profession. It was a dream come true! I had free reign and could whip up whatever I could find the ingredients to: potato soup, grechka, even Olivier on holidays. It was so good, I would get propositioned multiple times every night, and not just by the prisoners. My greatest hit was this special carp dish. Perhaps the succulent river juice retained by cooking this fish whole and un-scaled made it easy for those without teeth; perhaps those with teeth left liked to use the numerous bones as toothpicks, which prisoners were not allowed to handle. Regardless, everyone told me that they were reminded of home cooked meals from the outside. The meal goes great with potatoes on the side. It also works as a decent breakfast if you have leftovers--it is almost as good cold as it is fresh out of the fryer.

Chinese

China Town $$$ Cheers: Located right above Kitaisky Lyotchik. Has a 250R lunch special... Jeers: ...which sucks dragon dicks. And some 9 months later, this place still sucks donkey dicks. Every single dish tastes exactly the same. Depressing interior trying to affect stylish Chinese mojo, feels more like provincial Golden Palace. We couldn't afford anything but biz lunch specialties. The flatheads at the table next to us seemed to be enjoying their dishes, but then again, they'd enjoy raw dog meat. M: Kitai Gorod Phone: 923-6163 Address: Lubyansky Proezd 25/12 str.1 (above Kitaisky Lyotchik) Hours: who cares Chinese Village (in Tandoor) $$$ Cheers: The only Chinese food prepared by a Bangladeshi trained in Hong Kong on Tverskaya! And if that isn't enough, it's pretty darned tasty, too. Try the Chili Bean King Prawns (R540) or the Crispy Aromatic Duck (1/4 for R480) if you don't like that spicy thang--Moscow's best duck. Just about everything is decent, but you might feel like you're paying too much if you order the wrong dish. First Chinese food in Moscow to be personally endorsed by ass-like-nails weightlifter Yang Xuewei. Business lunch for R300 intrigues us. Jeers: They charge for those dyed pork-rind chips. Can't get a seperate license from Tandoor, and so it will be forever known as Chinese Village, which sounds to us like some upper-Midwestern rendezvous for middleaged fags. Man-Chau soup (R240) means "shweaty balls" in Chinese, and they sure do mean it. M: Mayakovskaya Phone: 299-45-93; 209-55-65 Address: Tverskaya ul. 30/2 Hours: 12.00 - 00.00 Drevny Kitai $$ Cheers: Don't charge extra for breaking glasses. Teapoured from a very very long spout for free. Not bad sweet and sour pork. Jeers: Recent business lunch caused Ames to exhibit clap-like symptoms, including fried chicken pieces that tasted like possum ankles. Big portions of lukewarm shite. All meat dishes fashioned out of reprocessed chicken heels. M: Okhotny Ryad Phone: 292-2900 Address: Kamergersky per. 5/6 Hours: 12.00 - 23.00 Five Spice $$$ Cheers: We've said it before and we'll say it again: the best Business lunch deal in town. Moe Snideman gives them two legal pads way up for exhibiting "superb service with perfect memories." Also, they deliver. When these guys say they'll make it spicy, call the fire dept. Re-thumb-up on the spring rolls. Their $10 lunch special is one of Moscow's very best. Choose from Vegetarian or Meat, and receive soup, massive portions of egg fried rice and rich, delicious Chinese cuisine. For starters, try the honey glazed pork; for entrees, the King Prawns in Hot Garlic Sauce rule the local prawn kingdom, while any spicy chicken dish is a good alternative. Offers various szechuan tofu and veggie dishes. Jeers: Steep 2nd floor stairwell could spell trouble for people with vertigo; hot `n sour soup too heavy on the soya. Prices may be just out of range for some eXholes. M: Kropotkinskaya Phone: 203-1283 Address: Svitsav Vrazhek 3/18 Hours: 12.00 - 24.00 Khram Drakona $$$ Cheers: Wild and crazy decorations include, but are not limited to, lifesized carved dragon heads, oversized carp swimming underfoot, ducks with their wings clipped Chinese style and lots of fountains. Quality Georgian wines. Jeers: Entrees are virtually indistinguishable from each other. This sophisticated play on European perceptions of Chinese culture makes for a lousy meal. Kikkoman soy sauce bottles actually contain generic sweet soy sauce. Egg-fried rice had the consistancy of an omelet. Didn't let us sample the 100-year-old cognac on display. M: Leninsky Prospekt Phone: 958-0707 Address: Leninsky Prospekt, 37 Hours: 11.00 - 24.00 Ki Ka Ku $$$$ Cheers: High-quality, surprisingly spicy Chinese place with a maxed-out interior (including live ducks) that shows what decadence is supposed to

European

Angara $$-$$$ Cheers: eXile alert! New menu is cheaper and more eXhole friendly than ever. Local favorite chef Ken Frost has taken over the entire food arena here, which means Moscow's best lamb chops and spare ribs can now be found at Angara. Huge variety of reasonably priced (by local standards) sushi, including sea urchin sashimi with a quail's egg. Top-notch Caesar Salad and chicken wings. Jeers: Having those washed-up whores staring at you while you eat could make you feel guilty, or worse. Best to sit in booths far away from the pop muzak. M: Arbatskaya Phone: 203-6936 Address: Novy Arbat 19 Hours: restaurant 12.00 - midnight; bar 24 hours Angelico's $$$ Cheers: Claim to have some new fancy chef, but we wouldn't know if he's good because they don't invite us for a free meal in exchange for a rude review. Take your tastebuds on a cruise around the Mediterranean, without the customs hassles. Delicious soups and salads. Easily Moscow's best desserts, including a light `n rich tiramisu with mangoes and strawberries. Jeers: Over-priced wine list, overattentive staff when the place is lessthan-full. M: Tsvetnoi Bulvar Phone: 299-3696 Address: Bolshoi Karetny Pereulok 6 Hours: 11:30 - 2:00 Botanik $-$$ Cheers: Reasonably priced "ecologically clean" meats grilled to order with choice of sauces (definitely go for the house spicy), including a fine cut of steak and perhaps the best 380-ruble lamb chops you'll ever see. There's also a custom salad option--for 250 rubles, you pick from among 20 or so fresh vegetable and other ingredients. White Russians for 75 rubles is always a good thing. High-ceilinged underground interior is surprisingly airy, features dried-leaf diplays. Owner sure is damn proud of the "Makaroni po-flotski," apparently a mysterious pasta dish favored by gay sailors and leather-pants-wearing non-pop-stars. Jeers: 150-ruble buffet business lunch isn't worth the mayonnaise-y effort. The same goes for the Pomegranate sauce. The unfiltered beer tasted more like flat cider. We're still not sure what the "Hawaiian Mix" garnish is supposed to be. Located near the American Medical Center, which brings back way too many unpleasant memories from last summer. M: Prospekt Mira Phone: 937-8825 Address: Grokholskii Pereulok d. 26, str. 5 Hours: from 11:30, until the last nerd leaves Cabana $$$ Cheers: Cabana's Nigerian chef, who cut his teeth at Moscow Time, is turning this place into a culinary sleeper. Great hunkin' salads, top-quality black bean soup, and tasty chicken dishes. Also offer tasty-sounding cheap-0 business lunch deals. Jeers: Unfortunately, promises of Nigerian and Lebanese menu has proved

Esterhazy $-$$ Cheers: Reasonably priced Hungarian food right in the frickin' center. Gulyash that comes in a hanging mechanism, decent bacon-n-bean soup. Paprikash dishes also worth a look. Affordable dry red wine. Waitstaff in quaint uniforms. Affiliated cafe next door has good pastries and is less annoying than most others around. Jeers: eXile alert! Recent tasting calls for downgrade to "sell". Goulash was watery, Paprikash too fatty, wine too pricey. Salad "bar" really a shameful assortment of Russian salads. Waiters still getting up to speed on the whole service thing. Totally devoid of spice. No chicken or beef paprikash, only pork and fish--and sometimes when you order the pork, they still try to give you fish. What gives, man? Neo-Soviet version of Hungarian cuisine. M: Kitai-Gorod Phone: 928-2517 Address: Maroseika, 7/8 Hours: 12.00 - 23.00 (cafe next door: 11.00 - 22.00) Fox Pub $$ Cheers: Had a mild daytime mojo last time we checked. Three-person live vocal accompaniement reminds you of your older brother's Styx albums. Solid bar food that's a cut above the usual slop. "Beer appetizer" assortment includes decent wings, crispy bacon, and other good stuff we can't quite recall at the moment. 380-ruble lamb chops were good enough to suprise us. Sturdy wooden furniture can be reassuring when you get a little too drunk for your own good.

Kings Carp

2kg carp (aprox. 8 medium-sized fish) 800ml sunflower oil (not refined) 500g chopped dill 300g white flour (I used sawdust in prison) 4 eggs 5 tablespoons dried ass 2 tablespoons dried dill 2 teaspoons salt several sprigs of parsley In large bowl combine flour, eggs, dried dill and salt, beating until clumps of flour are mostly broken up. Stir in ass. Meanwhile, heat the oil in a skillet on a medium-high flame. Place each carp in the bowl, so that both sides of the fish are covered in batter, and then toss it into the hot oil. The fish should cook for about 4 minutes on each side, or until the batter is browned. Place the cooked fish on a plate and cover with the chopped dill. Ass to

Business Lunch Guide

Business Lunch for 160 rbls Choice of 6 appetizers and 10 main dishes, prepared on an open fire in a wok. Comes with a drink. Tel. 255-5955, 1905 Goda st, 2 Darbar: Three dishes: Indian rice, meat, and vegetables. Meat & veggie dishes change daily. $8 noon-4pm Tel. 930-2925 Tel.: 737-6484, Fax: 737-6485

glass of beer & house dessert -- for only 160rbls. Ul. Tverskaya 27 Tel.: 299-9602, 299-9702

5- SPICE

5-Spice Choose: Naan Chicken broth, Chicken Dish, Egg fried rice OR Naan Vegetable broth, Vegetable dish, Vegetable fried rice for 10$ from 12 to 4pm, Sivtzhev Vrazhek 3/18 Tel: 203-1283 Real McCoy: Business Lunch Monday to Friday 12.00 - 17.00 for 150 rbls. Soup of the day - ask your waiter about today's flavor. Salads - Ham & Cheese Rolls with raw vegetables, Chiken Salad with sweet corn, Raw Vegetables under a mustard dressing, Tuna Salad with red onion. Grill, served with mashed potatoes, french fries, rice or fresh vegetables on your choice - Chiken Breasts in bacon stuffed with cheese under peanut sauce, Salmon Steak with «Lime» sauce, BBQ Pork chop, Beef Steak with Chili sauce. Pepsi-cola, Mirinda orange, 7UP, Pepsi-light, Everness, Aqua Minerale, Mountain Dew - for FREE Kudrinskaya pl. 1 (in the Stalin skyscraper) Tel. 255-4144

Mao: Special Offer from NOON to 5 PM. 20% OFF

$13 "Heavenly Lunch" at Tratoria Paradiso: Seven days a week, Noon to 5p.m. Two dishes of your choice from our special menu, a mini pastry, plus one drink (glass of wine, draft beer, juice, soft drink, tea). All credit cards and rubles welcome. Address: M. Biblioteka Im. Lenina, Starovagankovsky per, 19/a

Great Canadian Bagel: Business Lunch Monday to Friday 12.00 - 16.00 . Buy four Business Lunches - Get one Business Lunch for FREE. Soup, main dish, side, any salad of your choice,

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$$$ Cheers: Stella's famed staff has found a new home at one of eXaptia's favorite places: The Place. Sit oudoors on with a view of the Moskva and enjoy expensive yet worth-it top-notch Euro-fusion cuisine. Moscow's best gazapacho. Excellent veal, seafood, risotto dishes, unbeatable foie gras, attentive service. Jeers: What the heck is "devil fish"? Auto parts shops across the river may blight view. Attracts SPS types who frequented Stella's. M: Paveletskaya Phone: 725-4070 Address: Kosmodamianskaya nab. 52/5 (Riverside Towers, bldg. 5) Hours: 11.30 - 23.00 Safari Lodge $$ Cheers: All-new management in the restaurant to go with an all-new-- and much expanded--menu. Progressively multi-cultural staff in the kitchen visible through a glass window from almost every table in the place. Reasonably inexpensive selection of pan-Euro favorites, including the devushka pleasing Caesar salad. Bombay chicken may not be genuinely Indian, but is still tasty nonetheless. Short, lumpy waitresses may arouse your loins if your meal lasts long enough. Solid house wine. Still has plenty of grilled shashlyk to go around. Jeers: Beware the beluga sturgeon, which was so strong-tasting that Ames hid pieces of it under his salad and vegetables rather than risk the embarrassment of explaining himself to the waitress. Music heads into serious Sovok territory when the rambunctious local krysha stops in for a drink and a bite to eat. M: Chistiye Prudy/Kitai-Gorod Phone: 916-1879 d Address: Pokrovka 32 ate Upd Hours: 18.00 - 6.00 Uncle Guilly's $$ to $$$$ Cheers: eXile alert! Burgers still rock, and the menu in the bar for cheapOs like us is about to be redone, including rumors of a return of the famous chicken sand. On the Russky side of the equation, the hearty Solyanka is peerless (and this in a city seemingly awash in solyanka). According to the famous Mr. Ames, the Bailey's cheesecake is the best damn dessert in town. . Lionel T. says: order his patented onion soup and Caesar salad combo... both are just as good as they ever was! That "All-American" burger contiues to win hearts, minds, and stomachs with its seemingly limitless charms. And still the best damn Filet Mignon in Moscow. Jeers: Gave free cherry pie to Americans and U.S. Embassy employees for President's Day. Don't like the French. M: Pushkinskaya Phone: 229-2050 Address: Stoleshnikov per. 6, str. 1 Hours: 12.00 - 24.00

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clientele, who make us restless.Coffee salesmen hassle you at the bar. M: Pushkinskaya Phone: 200-4986 Address: Palashevsky Mal. per. 7 Hours: 12.00 - 24.00 The Place

M: Tanganskaya/Kitai Gorod Phone: 917-5706 Address: Yauzskaya ulitsa 5 Hours: Noon - midnight Pir $$ Cheers: Waitresses dress in skimpy outfits reminiscent of "Caligula." "Intimate" services available. Every customer gets a free glass of house wine. Italian, Greek, French, and soon, Spanish cuisine. "Greek Tasting Menu" gets a thumbs-up from Lionel. Jeers: Pointless seafood salad. Remains unknown whether children can take advantage of the "intimate" services. M: Arbatskaya/Pushkinskaya Phone: 203-2137 Address: Ul. Bolshaya Nikitskaya 19 Hours: 12.00 - 6.00 Pyramid $$$ Cheers: The perfect place to impress your Afisha-reading dyev date. Lots of dorkadent people in silly boutique costumes, techno music and babes o' plenty. Married molls come here to be seen, and for who knows what else. Food is actually good quality and reasonably priced. Sushi, salmon dishes and sandwiches all ranked high. Jeers: Snideman was served three wrong gin and tonics, and has since won a court restraining order forbidding him or his esteemed associates from ever setting foot in there. Ames once tried taking a date there, then stormed out after suffering the humiliation of waiting with a bunch of dorkadent flatheads and camel-toe-toting molls. Ab factor. M: Pushkinskaya Phone: 200-3515 Address: Tverskaya 18a Hours: always Tsesarka (at Santa Fe) $$$ Cheers: Chef Yuri Navarro was finally allowed to stop fucking around with Southwest shit and bring out his potential. Full assortment of sushi and fish you can trust to be fresh. $62 seven course meal for two a bargain. Cappuccino ice cream in the last course as dark as a West African and a whole lot richer. Jeers: Generous first two courses scare you into thinking you will never finish. Uses the glo-in-the-dark fish roe stunt twice. M: Ulitsa 1905 goda Phone: 256-2126 Address: Mantulinskaya 5/1, str. 6 (Second floor of Santa Fe) Hours: 12.00 - 2.00

Phone: 921-9844 Address: Ul. Pokrovka 2/1 Hours: 12.00 - 16.00... 17.00 - 22.30 Moscow Bombay $$ Cheers: You can watch real live Indians eat here. Kickin' chicken tikka can't be bested in one-on-one combat. Sturgeon tandoor rocks. Good service, convenient location. They actually make it spicy, so that it resembles real Indian food. Try the plov. Jeers: No spinach or slurpies on the menu. They infringed on MoscowBerlin's copyright. Belly dancers don't give us wood; piano player plays "Feelings". Incongruous Chinese menu made us scratch our heads. M: Pushkinskaya Phone: 292-9731 Address: Glinishchevsky per. 3 Hours: noon - midnight Tandoor $$ Cheers: eXile alert! Two whirling Dervishes way up! All of the sudden, this place kicks major ass. Chicken Pakora appetizers totally rule. Samosas among the best in the city, if not the best. Murg Tikka Masala a can't miss entree. Great lemon rice. Large portions, good prices, and probably the phat-est business lunch special in town for the Val-U (210R-350R), if you don't mind stuffing yourself full. Management claims Kohinoor vets inhabit the kitchen, and it shows. Paneer-e-shola (fried cheese in a spicy onion and tomato gravy on a sizzlin' plate) ruled; rogan josh (lamb masala) was properly spicy and tender; good-sized portions, decent dal. Jeers: Interior still a drag, with more pink than Red China. Music consists of mid-90's hits recycled as muzak. Bored waitresses circle like vultures as they wait for you to finish eating. Manager repeatedly referred to eXile editor Matt Taibbi as "Mr. Mike." People at other tables frequently have a Wanted-Poster look to them. M: Mayakovskaya Phone: 299-5925 Address: Tverskaya ul. 30/2 Hour: 12.00 - 23.00

pesto, and inexpensive wine by the caraffe--now all gone. Seems they're so ashamed of themselves, they even took down all those rave press reviews that used to hang in the stairway. M: Sukharevskaya Phone: 924-2931 Address: Bolshoi Golovin per. 5 Hours: noon - 23.00 Portofino $$$-$$$$ Cheers: Another fancy-pants Italian joint with an LA-leaning interior. Roman chef seems to known what he's doing. Desserts in a class by themselves. Solid appetizers, homemade pastas, and awesome meat dishes, including this nifty lamb chop thing. Jeers: Cheese sauces that tend to taste Kraft-like. Overpriced $4 glasses of cola. Lighting that lacks mojo. Sounds of the Gypsy Kings. M: Lubyanka Phone: 923-0286 Address: Ul. Malaya Lubyanka 16/4, bldg. 1 Hours: noon - final customer (leaves) San Marco $$ Cheers: The charming Old Arbat location has been remont-ed to give the place a more contemporary look...they even remedied that pesky toilet issue. Food that's as good as ever--luscious carpaccio with pesto, super Carbonara, a hearty duck-n-mushroom risotto, heavenly tiramisu. Fra Diabolical pizza with spicy Italian sausage is still a favorite. And at $10 per liter, the carafes of house wine are still a steal. Jeers: OK, here's the deal on the mystery oven: it's not really a brick oven at all, but some special convection thingy we don't quite understand. At any rate, overheating concerns forbid its use during the summer months, and the regular oven doesn't quite have the juice to do a properly crisp crust--you might want to keep that in mind when ordering. M: Arbatskaya Phone: 291-7089 Address: Ulitsa Arbat 25 Hours: noon - 23.00 Syr $$$$ Cheers: Yet another gimmicky, overpriced Novikov eatery catering to dipshit Russians who wouldn't know good food if it crashed a Boeing onto their laps. The interior is said (by our own Jesus Christ) to resemble a mouse-eaten hunk of cheese. Hence the name. Jeers: Shawl of christmas lights putting a strain on UES' capacity; Vladivostok said to be bracing for another winter of blackouts. M: Tsvetnoi Bulvar Phone: 209-7770 Address: Sadovaya-Samotechnaya Ul. 16/2 Hours: 11.00 - 00.00 Verona $-$$ Cheers: Only place in town to find a good cannoli. For Italian standards at impossibly low prices, this place can't be beat. The superb $3 penne arrabiatta alone is worth the trip across town--dare we say, this arrabiatta's as good as the real thing. Massive prosciutto appetizer (almost) always satisfies. Pizzas also damn good-- for something different try the cheese-less Marinara with super-spicy garlic tomato sauce. Unpretentious atmosphere and potent coffee. Cute brunette waitress we call "Underdog" now joined by sizzling Asian item with burgeoning bosom. Jeers: eXile alert! Can be very crowded, meaning if you even get a seat, you'll be stuck in the smoky, bright front room, rather than the dark, lessmiserable dining room. Ethnic confusion among waitresses distracting: their new costumes look like Swiss Miss dresses. We preferred the cleavage-baring old costumes. Main dining hall doesn't open until seven on Sundays--they make you wait in the cafe. Limited wine list. Those massive parmesan chunks that come with the prosciutto seem like a big waste to us. Dessert selection extremely unpredictable. I M: Proletarskaya Phone: 912-0632 / 276-4150 Address: Vorontsovskaya ul. 32/36 Hours: 11.00 - 23.00

Get the sushi boat if someone else is footing the bill--it won't fill you up or let you down. Highlights include California, ebi and eel rolls, tuna and yellowtail sashimi. Gyuniku maki meat rolls (R430) are a tasty arteryclogging alternative to fishy dishes. Cocktails rock--try the Godzilla. Quality absinth (R500) with a whopping 10% wormwood seperates the men from the boys. Spacious private cabinets let you dine in peace without reminding you that everyone in the restaurant ought to be consumed from within by tapeworms. Management went out of its way to hire Gook waitresses. Lone Nip dessert is the bizarro ekan (R210), which tastes like sugarfree soy Jell-O and yet still somehow manages to impress. Jeers: After a few too many free cocktails, Ames started proposing marriage to a girl who wouldn't have treated him well. Miso soup and tempura had Ames spouting poetry to her, even though they weren't all that good. The same chick trying to off Rudnitsky by subverting his course of antibiotics. Cabinets can get pretty lonely. Do you really want to come here? M: Chekhovskaya Address: Petrovsky bul. (near the intersection with Petrovka) Hours: noon to midnight Sumosan $$$$ Cheers: Owner's daughter gives good head. "One of best restaurants in world." Nice waitresses, if you have an Asian fixation. Jeers: Daughter lives in London. So mediocre it's shocking. Prices actually had Lionel Tannenbaum laughing out loud. $10 bottles of beer to remind you of 1994. Tannenbaum now in hiding after the management made threats to his person. M: Kievskaya Phone: 941-8841/8020 Address: Hotel Radisson-Slavjanskaya (Berezhkovskaya nab. 2) Hours: noon-midnight Wabi $$$ Cheers: Yet another good-quality sushi place. Stick to the sushi, especially the queer-friendly rainbow roll, and the miso soup. You can get a private cabin. Jeers: Restaurant opens up onto a horrific mall. Russian crooners accompany your meal, which might bring back bad memories of the RussoJapan War. Pricey. Meat dishes kinda shwarmy, that is, like shwarma. M: Belorusskaya Phone: 255-6982 Address: Tishinskaya Sq. 1, second floor of Tishinka Shopping Center Hours: noon - 23:00 Yakitoriya $$ Cheers: Yes, your prayers have been answered: quality Japanese food at prices that you can talk about on the expat list with all your Quickenproficient friends! Excellent miso (80R) and kento (100R) soups, healthy seafood salad (150R) for starters; quality tuna rolls and California rolls. Fried dumplings a hit with Russians. Now has a new branch by the Sports Bar (see American)which is more spacious and doesn't have such long lines. Nu Tokyo rolls a hit with one eXile date. Jeers: Recent visit revealed unexciting miso and tuna rolls the size of rabbit pellets. Orange hospital gown waitress outfits make you wonder if you're being prepped for a double mastectomy--and you're a guy! Already crowded with the Bagel crowd; desserts lacking. M: Belorusskaya, Arbatskaya Phone: 250-5385/290-4311 Address: ul. 1-aya Yamskaya 29, str. 1 / Sports Bar Hours: 11.00 - 6.00

Italian

Amarcord $$ Cheers: Bargain-priced (starting at $5) thin-crust pizzas and respectable antipasti bar. With Il Pomodoro slipping into obscurity, this place seems to be picking up the trattoria-styled slack and is definitely worth a second look. Now has a second, more intimate room downstairs. Excellent pasta dishes, including some real steals for all you vegetarians out there. Quasi-pop star Lena Zosimova (looking much the worse for drink and who knows what else) occasionally spotted here. Open until 6 a.m., for some bizarre reason. Jeers: The hot waitress we were stalking first dyed her hair a putrid orangish color, and now no longer seems to work here. Meanwhile, the food quality is on a downward swing once again. Pasta fagioli soup now barely edible. Non-pasta entrees still only so-so. Bizarre pricing defies the laws of quantum physics (e.g., a dessert that costs $14 ought to come with a blowjob at the end, or at least some booze in it). Disappointing wine selection, including way overpriced Chianti in those straw-covered bottles that were big in the `70s. Phone: 923-0932 M: Kitai Gorod Address: Ul Pokrovka 6 Hours: 11.30 - 6.00

Frog-ean

La Brasserie $$ Cheers: Now open Sundays as well. Check it out: first the new management, now a new name! New creole-crazy French chef and management have taken over this one-time eXpat favorite and turned it into a safe haven for Francophile food fans again. If you order anything, make sure you eat the Grilled Seabass with Fennel Sauce, among the freshest and finest seafood dishes we've ever tried. We also went ga-ga for the Creole Crab Salad with Celery Sauce. The blackened salmon and the Jamaican Jerk Pork, a tender cut with moist sauteed banana slices, "literally melts in your mouth." Good wine selection, particularly the fairly priced Chileans. Bread served warm. Word on the street is the delicious "Opera" chocolate dessert is on the menu now. Another innovation is the intriguing standardized pricing system (which seems oddly appropriate for this Putin-inspired era of stability we're all enjoying so much): all starters are $8, all mains are $14, and all desserts are $6.50. No more using your cellphone calculator to divvy up the bill! Jeers: Lionel wasn't ga-ga over the tuna carpaccio, while the Sauteed Gambas Shrimp didn't make us want to grow out rasta curls. Manager is actually Dutch Protestant, not Catholic. M: Taganskaya Phone: 258-5900 Address: Ul. Taganskaya 21 Hours: 12.00 - midnight; weekends 18.00 - midnight Le Duc $$$$$ Cheers: High-quality, if expensive, French cuisine in a Eurodisney castle type setting. Unlike most in this city, these guys know what to do with a duck. Exquisite desserts. The head chef called Lionel "Monsieur Tannenbaum" when he called up to complain about our French-language review of the place entitled "Le Plouc." Jeers: They finally promised us a free meal, and then made us pay for it ($259!) after we had eaten it. Ultra uptight and in-your-face service will make even the most laid-back diner nervous. M: Ulitsa 1905 goda Phone: 255-0390 Address: Ulitsa 1905 goda 2A (across from the Mezh. Hotel) Hours: 12.00 - midnight Monks & Nuns $$ Cheers: Those nun outfits the waitresses wear are enough to make exholes dizzy. A big old selection of Belgian beer will make you want to join a monastery. Jeers: Who are we fooling? Belgium is not a country. It has produced nothing of worth ever. Except maybe a couple passable serial killers. Belarus is a capital of world culture compared to that mud hole. They serve meat with canned whipped cream and DelMonte fruits. M: Kropotkinskaya Phone: 203-6841 Address: Sistev Vrazhek 3/18 Hours: 12.30 - 23.00 (serve beer until midnite)

$$$ Cheers: eXile "Chef Head" Isaac Correa continues to tempt our palates, while also tickling our funny bones. A confession first, though: we're only just now getting around to doing the update about the "new" summer menu, when in fact Isaac has already implemented the "Best of Uley" retrospective menu. We sure hope that spicy tuna appetizer (among other delicacies) is on it. Among the superb new summer fravorites which we're hoping to see more of are the BBQ unagi rolls with asparagus and the scrumptious Chilean sea bass, certainly one of the best seafood dishes in the city. And if ever there was a pasta dish that's actually worth more than $20, it's the chicken and 4 mushroom sun-dried tomato angel hair pasta (one of Isaac's personal faves). And of course, the desserts remain so good as to be beyond description, even by the legendary likes of our occasional guest reviewer Jesus Christ. Jeers: We occasionally see Andrew Paulson eating here. It's downright unfair that he can afford the place and we can't. Almost makes us wish we had devoted more time to the business side of our operation. M: Mayakovskaya Phone: 797-3090/4333 Address: Gasheka ul. 7 Hours: 17.00 - 2.00; Fri.-Sun. `til 5.00

Latin

Acapulko $$$ Cheers: Corona comes with lime! Jeers: Food much worse than the interior implies. Just another unnessesary addition to Moscow's mediocre Mexican restaurants. Besides, what's a Cuban chef doing making Mexican food? Sounds like a counterrevolutionary PRI trick. Address: Petrovka, right across from the Marriott Aurora. Hours: noon - 6.00 (disco: 23.00 - 6.00) Amazonia $$$ Cheers: Over-the-top, exotic interior and not-too-exhorbitant prices make this the perfect place for shutting up the dyevushka who's been hounding you for some big-ticket item. Flaming mutton chops were a big smash with Moe Snideman; Lionel dug the massive $6 mixed green salad. Aromatic chicken breast also packs plenty of mojo. Average sushi is priced fairly reasonably. Scantily clad Bacardi girls doling out worthless prizes make for an occasional pick-me-up. Jeers: Disappointing cocktails, especially the inverse quantum margarita. "Unusual" black bean soup. Exotic seafood dishes (such as blue shark and moray eel) can be hit and miss--the shark missed. High one-handclapping factor on the dance floor. Depressing sight of New Russians parading around a poor baby leopard on a leash could sour the appetite of even the most Hemingway-esque eXhole. They never paid us for their ad. M: Chekhovskaya Phone: 209-7487 Address: Strastnoi bulvar, 14 Hours: noon - 6.00 (disco: 23.00 - 6.00) Aruba $$ Cheers: Although it's been around for awhile, we forgot how good it is. Now it's cheaper and tastier. Recent business lunch taste test earned two coca leaves up. Excellent vegetarian soup, cuban rice, decent chicken "pechuga". Also serves Mexican dishes. Jeers: There was a fat French guy eating there, and he seemed to like it. Too much wood, and the threat of loud Latino music. M: Taganskaya Phone: 912-1836 Address: Narodnaya ul. 4 Hours: 11.30 - 5.00 B.B. King $ Cheers: Mexican and Cajun touch to the old evropeisky classics. Real cheap Mexican food for those who don't like to eat much. Fajitas tasty, after you dump a gallon of Tabasco on them. Gumbo good, but way too thin. Jeers: The money you think you are saving vaporizes when you need to order five main courses just to be mildly sated. Veggie nachos include about five chips and eggplant... what is this, fusion food? M: Tsvetnoi Bulvar Address: Sadovaya-Samotechnaya 4/2 Phone: 299-82-06 Hours: 12.00 - 02.00 La Cantina $$$ Cheers: A great place for early morning drinks! There might not be a lot of french toast in an order, but it sure is tasty! Mural of an alligator fucking a cowboy makes your appitite grow by leaps and bounds! Jeers: Breakfasting businessmen sometimes seen here. Way overpriced for not-that-authentic Mexican food. M: Tverskaya Phone: 292-5388 Address: Tverskaya 5 Hours: noon- 23:00 El Gaucho $$$ Cheers: Meat products of the very highest quality prepared by an authentic Argentinean chef--he even has a bushy mustache! Decent wine list with a hearty house red. The asada and chorizo has got balls, baby. Homey wood interior makes for a nice setting on winter evenings. Jeers: Steaks prepared with enough salt to mummify a good-sized rhino. And just wait until you try the fries. Lionel Tannenbaum expressed

Indian

Bombay Nights $$ Cheers: Reasonably-priced new Indian restaurant opened by the fellas who brought us the short-lived Ambassador. Excellent eggplant (Baingan Na Partha), promises good palak paneer, various chicken and tandoor dishes. Great tandoor bread (Kashta Roti), various rice dishes, and South Indian as well. Live loud Indian music thankfully shown in small back room so your eardrums won't pop. So-called "erotic Indian show." Jeers: Could be spicier for our tastes. May be too Russian-friendly on the tongue. Some dishes too bland, like Samosas and Mutton Dosa. Come on, fellas! Make us sweat! Make us cry uncle in Hindi! M: Biblioteka Im. Lenina Phone: 202-2643 Address: Starovagankovsky Per., 19 Hours: noon - midnight Darbar $$ Cheers: All-U-Can-Eat b-day bonanza let us sample pretty much the entire Darbar spectrum in a single sitting, and it reaffirmed what we knew already--this place can't be beat! Shrek liked it so much, he went up 4 times, causing mild panic among the kitchen staff that they would run out of dal. Our General Counsel has reaffirmed two legal pads up for Darbar, citing their samosas as "the best in Moscow." Fashions come and go, but Darbar remains. The rest of us still love the spinach, dal, and buttery chicken dishes. Magic combination of flavor, affordability, warm atmosphere, and super service. This should top your list. Ajay Goyal ordered us a "globjob" here. That's what he said: "Boss-- four masala teas and some globjob." We later found out he meant "Gulab Jamin"-- and it was worth the confusion, because it's a damn good dessert. You can order free delivery, no kidding! Jeers: Thugs at entrance can be annoying: just ignore them no matter how much they bark at you. Why are good Indian places always such a pain in the buttocks to get to? No more kima. Occasional wait for tables on weekends. M: Leninsky Prospekt d ate Phone: 930-2925 Upd Address: Leninsky Pr. 38 (Hotel Sputnik) Hours: 12.00 - midnight Goa $$-$$$ Cheers: Ignore the pretentious dorkadent interior and model-level babes, cuz the food's actually pretty damn good, and not too pricey. Succulent chicken tikka masala (350R), decent lamb samsa won us over. Accompanying French (!) menu offers one of Moscow's best warm duckbreast salads, we mean it. Fantabulous cocktails that come in huge metal shakers. Jeers: Door thug nearly smoked Ames when he tried crashing a recent party, thinking there was free food to be had. These guys aren't joking when they say you gotta have reservations on weekends. Russians who come here don't really like Indian food, which is why they also offer French and Sushi. M: Kitai-Gorod/Lubyanka Phone: 504-4031 Address: Myasnitskaya ul. 8/2 Hours: 12.00 until last customer (until 6.00 Thurs.-Sun.) Juggernaut $ Cheers: Cheap vegetarian eatery could be just what the doctor ordered for our less carnivorous eXholes. The owner's many years as a monk in India have really paid off; a soothing Hare Krishna-influenced atmosphere and healthy food that will make you realize just how out of shape you've become. Best bets include the pleasingly chunky guacamole, pureed yellow dal, or banana lassi. With prices that max out at less than $6, even our junkie friends can now afford to stay well-fed and fit. Good selection of teas from all over the world. Jeers: eXile alert! Recent trip here proved that this place is very mediocre. Food lacks flavor, our dyke-dar detected womyn who play for the other team. Our lunch food took 30 minuts to get, portion was small, and gay waiter was pissy with us. Lack of booze takes the whole health-food thing a bit too far. Like many Hare Krishna-veggie places, the food tends toward the bland side of things. The rice tastes suspiciously Russian, the items marked on the menu with a hot pepper hardly merit the warning, Miso soup wasn't all that. We could really do without the overweight belly dancers. M: Kuznetsky Most Phone: 928-3580 Address: Kuznetsky Most 11 Hours: 10.00 - 23.00 Maharaja $$$ Cheers: Prices not quite as ridiculous as they used to be. Used to be the top Indian place... back in the days before a place actually had to be good to be the best. Great service and presentation. Candlelit metal trays keep your food warm. Setting that'd make a Mogul feel at home. Jeers: Let's call a spade a spade here: even with prices almost down to Darbar levels, this place still basically sucks. Food that's indigestioninducing without offering much in the way of flavor. Some of the driest samosas we've ever seen; drinks still a bit of a gouge. Even the sauces they give you with the poppadums lack that certain oomph. Popular with expat nerd `listers.' M: Kitai-Gorod

$$$$ Cheers: Without a doubt, the finest Croat-run Italian joint in all the world! Superb soups and prosciutto e melone; kick-ass spicy arrabiatta and truffle menu rocked Lionel's world. Pasta that's truly al dente; even the ravioli are good. Luxurious tiramisu is the only one in town worth ordering; or try the "hot dessert" (warm forest berries in cream) for a lighter treat. Principled Sicilian chef comes from a long line of idealistic Commies--hey, we gotta admire that! Good coffee, and a great location to boot. Jeers: Stingy portions; the prices ain't exactly affordable for an unrepentant commie chef. Sadly, shoot-em-up bloodbaths seem to be a thing of the past. Frequented by Nikita Mikhalkov--and his mustache. M: Tretyakovskaya Phone: 237-6342 Address: Kadashevskaya nab. 6/1 Hours: 12.00 - 24.00 Felicita $$$ Cheers: The mixed green salad was decent and affordably priced. Jeers: This place sucks ass... literally. First-ever Moscow restaurant whose food has been compared to sucking recently spewed sperm from the ass of your male partner. In other words, felch food. Tuscan cream of tomato soup tasted like ass. Ames and McElwee were served the worst pasta dishes they've ever tasted. Stupid, overly heavy furniture. Waiters pretending to be gay and dressed in silly bowties. Popular with dipshits who have handsfree mic units for their cell-phones. KKK witnessed Ferarri parked outside in a recent limp-by. Did we mention that the food tastes like ass? M: Mayakovskaya Phone: 958-1509 Address: Bolshaya Sadovaya ul. 3 Hours: 12.00 - 24.00 Giardino Italiano $$ Cheers: Outstanding upscale Italian option just beyond the Garden Ring. Superb carpaccio, genuine al dente pasta, and everything you've come to expect from Italian desserts. Damn fine coffee and wine list. Jeers: Name reminds us of "giardia," which alone is enough to give Ames poo cramps. M: Leninsky Prospekt Phone: 958-1509 Address: Leninsky pr. 37 Hours: 12.00 - 24.00 Mario $$$$ Cheers: Okay folks, we've gotta admit it: we were wrong about this, the Holy of Holies for flatheadz. A recent trip to Mario's half blew us away. The pesto pasta is as good as you'll find anywhere, the Dover fish cooked in bread to keep the juices in melted in our mouths. Impressive wine list, cozy patio dining. Bresaola was mouthwateringly good. Jeers: Berezovsky won't be coming here anymore. Almost got shot by jittery guards after walking too close to a client. They sell $5 kiosk wine for $60--and it tastes like Bangladeshi Kool-Aid. Waitstaff seems nervous and abused. Pretentious customers fond of bringing in their groomed poodles in designer pakety. Stubborn Lionel remains unconvinced. M: Ulitsa 1905 Phone: 253-6505 Address: Ulitsa Klimashkina 17 Hours: 13.00 - midnight Papa John's Cantina $$ Cheers: Real life Italian Antonio now hosts the Cantina, a reasonably priced trattoria-style menu served in Papa's back room--with red and white checked tablecloths to match. You can't go wrong with any of the antipasto platter, rigatoni amatriciana, lasagna, or ravioli, all priced at $78. Tagliatelle with creamy porcini mushroom sauce also highly recommended. Some of the busier entrees--such as king prawns fra diavolo or duck a l'orange--also worth a look. Decent house wine. All in all, not to shabby for a place that's in the ass end of a disco. Jeers: Antonio's refusal to tell us where he worked in Moscow previously reminiscent of President Putin's election campaign performance. M: Turgenevskaya Phone: 755-9554 Address: 22 Myasnitskaya ulitsa Hours: 18.00 - 6.00 Paparazzi $$ Cheers: eXile alert! Quality business lunch makes this a worthy stop if you're on your way to or from the AMC or SOS after picking up your HIV results. Recent visit proved that this should be on your weekly Idi-food list. If it's pesto you seek, then look no further. Fabiano and Eduardo, formerly of Il Pomodoro fame, now serve up the beloved basil sauce and other Ligurian favorites. Penne all'imperiese--with a sundried tomato and black olive--was also damn impressive. Out-of-this-world chocolate dessert. Jeers: Slightly disappointing beef carpaccio; occasional live jazz/blues performances. M: Prospekt Mira Phone: 971-0984 Address: Prospekt Mira 21 (Zaitsev House of Fashion) Hours: noon - midnight Il Pomodoro $$$ Cheers: The breadsticks are still free. Nice trattoria atmosphere, with waitresses that appeal to Ames when he's in one of his anti-teenager old-chick moods. Decent pasta dishes that are generally prepared authentically al dente. Supposedly now has some chef from Dorian Gray whose name is `Spartak.' Back in the old days, was immensely popular with real life Italians and ordinary eXholes alike. Jeers: Rumors of a revival are unfortunately greatly exaggerated. Niggardly portions, eggplant parmesan now sucks. Mixed green salad,

Japanese

It's Sushi $ Cheers: Moscow's bestest quickie sushi option is a whole lot better with the addition of temaki and sashimi. Believe it or not, affordably scrumptious sushi! Kickin' tuna, plus some respectable vegetarian options like egg and black mushroom. The combination of sinus-opening wasabi and fresh seafood is also the perfect hangover cure. DeliFrance always seems to be packed with teenage girls. Jeers: That shopping area is looking more and more like an upscale food court every day. Rumors of price increases. M: Mayakovskaya; Rizhskaya Phone: 299-4236 Address: Next to DeliFrance in the lobby of Tchaikovsky Concert Hall; Sheremetyevsky (new Ramstore supermarket) Hours: noon - midnight Kamakura $$$ Cheers: First of all, one of the few places is town with truly tasty prawns and kick-ass tempura ($19), which Tannenbaum described as "exquisite". Yakitori chicken also described as best in Moscow. Interesting menu, the best new Japanese restaurant to hit Moscow even though they're raiding this town like it's Pearl Harbor. All in all a great choice for those with coin. Jeers: Expensive--Sapporo beer for $7. Lame provincial layout, but you didn't come to Moscow for Japanese atmosphere, didja? M: Novoslobodskaya Phone: 978-0407 Address: Dolgorukovskaya 31 Hours: noon - midnight Planeta Sushi $$-$$$ Cheers: Dynamite wraps kick major ass. Got a confident thumbs-up from most eXile staffers for its fresh, delicious tuna and salmon sushi, the spinach and tofu salad, saki-it-to-me saki and upstanding service. Since it can get pricey, we recommend the top-notch tuna rolls (8 for 7 bucks). Vegetable tempura got two battered-and-fried-fingers up. Cozy atmosphere. Jeers: On the expensive side for the genre. California rolls that tasted too much like Jersey with all that eggy crud on the periphery. Lionel had an apparently bad experience that he'll be happy to tell y'all about. M: Mayakovskaya Phone: 250-9509 Address: Tverskaya-Yamskaya ul. 2 Hours: noon - midnight Samurai $$$ Cheers: Located not far from Patriarch's Pond, where we hear an enterprising individual can score smack. Sapporo beer on tap! Patrick Bateman once ate here with his secretary, and even ignored the urge to gouge out her eyes with the cheap plastic chopsticks. Jeers: Sushi is overpriced and mediocre. Depressing, hole-in-the-wall wood-paneled atmosphere. Service poor at best. M: Pushkinskaya Phone: 202-8694 Address: ul. Malaya Bronnaya, 21/13 Hours: noon - midnight Staryi Tokyo $$$ Cheers: This place has become pretty hep since the recent renovations!

Fusion

City Cafe 317 $$ Cheers: Cheap-o dining right next to the White House means you might run into your favorite deputies. Decent food without pretentions (if you ignore their `fusion' claims). Having khachipuri does NOT mean the restaurant does that fusion thang. They have tongue on the menu. Big old portions. 0.5l of Ochkovo for only 35R. Green Chicken salad (R85) with spinich made Jeff rethink his moratorium on mayonnaise. Could it be the beginning of a detente? Jeers: Kitchen's only open until 22.30 because residents in the building are not the kind of people you want to fuck with. Clientelle a little too close to Andrew Jack's ideal of a Russian middle class for comfort. M: Barrikadnaya Phone: 205-1997 Address: Gluboki per. 1/2 Hours: `til 23.00 Kafka $$$ Cheers: Deliciously decked-out supper club on the fledgling elite restaurant row on Ulitsa 1905 goda. Really packs in what's left of the bored and beautiful people. Beautifully presented sushi and Asianinfluenced dishes a feast for the eyes. Good jazz and a lounge singer sideshow who looks just like a young Tom Jones. Frequent contract hits of flatheads on their way home from here makes it a good place for up-close death pooling. The name is very, um... kafkaesque. Jeers: Some dishes don't live up to the presentation, nor do they warrant the high price (especially the sushi). The bored and beautiful people don't seem quite as beautiful as they used to be. Which makes us bored. Gregor Samsa couldn't eat anything that wasn't rotten and liquefied. M: Ulitsa 1905 goda Phone: 255-5963/53 Address: Ulitsa 1905 goda (across from the Mezh. Hotel) Hours: 12.00 - 5.00 Kult $$ Cheers: Hot waitresses. Another recent inspection reveals this place to be a totally viable-- and affordable-- dinner option. Good tempura appetizers, great milkshakes, good rice dishes and stellar kebabs. Two eXile undercover agents recently dined there, with multiple beverages and appetizers, for 640 rubles. Plus, it's air-conditioned! Lots of vegetarian options. We don't know why the quesadillas are called quesadillas, but they're pretty darn good anyway. Killer cocktails at bargain basement prices. Jeers: The business lunch deals lose their appeal after the first couple of times: the ratatouille may be tasty, but stay away from the other main course options. And, let's be honest, the business lunch salads and soups might as well be made from the tallow runoff from a soap factory. Many of the entrees are so sweet, there's no need for dessert. Fake tree decorations hamper digestion.

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EX#138/14-15-16-17

4/6/02 8:31 PM

Page 17

SIN--BAD, JEWS--GOOD

By Ariel Cohen, Ph.D.

During one of the legendary voyages of Sinbad, his entire crew shipwrecked and washed ashore a strange island peopled with a foreign race. The sailors' suspicions were quickly mollified, however, when the king of the island himself presented them with a feast, complete with exotic foods, vintage wines and sumptuous smells. Half starved from their ill-fated journey, the sailors gorged themselves on the offerings. Sinbad alone did not partake in the meal. His prudence proved providential when, later that night, every man who had eaten and drank was turned into a squealing swine to be butchered for the king's next feast. My reasons for mentioning this parable are two-fold. Firstly, it illuminates the dangers in wait for the Israelis regarding the current situation in the Middle East. It also struck me as appropriate because the topic of this review is the restaurant SINDBAD, the vernacular by which Russians know Scheherazade's classic. While liberals within Israel and statesmen everywhere are urging Sharon to devour the proverbial banquet of the Saudi peace proposal, Sharon alone has remained aloof. With even President Bush calling on him to sate himself on peace offerings, this cannot be an easy task. Will it prove wise? The Arabs, while perhaps less mysterious than the strangers Sinbad met, remain an unknown element, with autocratic rulers eager to blame the Jews whenever their popularity starts to sag. In other words, just when the Jews think themselves quenched with peace, they may turn to see millions of ravenous black beady eyes hungrily eyeing the remaining sliver of Israel. Sharon, to his credit, understands this. If Sharon bit, how many foreign states would turn to feast on the Jews? Would Russia be one of them? Even as Putin is beginning to accept the reality of the collapse of Russia's empire, we see the emergence of Neo-Nazis and other antiSemitic groups looking to blame Jews for the empire's disillusion. The militsia encourages these fascists, allowing them to walk the streets with impunity rather than finding ways to handle them. I no longer walk in central Moscow after dark, for fear of roaming groups of anti-Semites. And yet, how can I but portray Russia in a positive light? Putin, like Sinbad, is an individual taking the nonconformist--and ultimately correct--path. I feel compelled to encourage the burgeoning post-imperial civil society in Moscow beyond my theoretical contributions. Having been part and parcel of the human rights movement in Russia in the 1970s, and having worked on legal reform issues in the 1990s through the present, I now also want to lead Russians on to enjoy their new-found political and economic freedoms. Nowhere will you find such synergy of the market economy and the right to choose as in the restaurant industry. It did not even exist ten years ago, and now Russians can pick cuisine from anywhere in the world. So, while some would complain that they needed to arraign doorto-door transport to a restaurant because of safety concerns, I reveled in the fact that my companion and I could choose to sample ethnic food in Moscow. Sindbad's Oriental dÈcor may seem unusual at first but, as Rudyard Kipling noted, "east is east and west is west". The chef hails from the Levant and the menu is peppered with familiar Mid-Eastern dishes at prices well beneath prices I have resigned myself to paying while in Moscow. I wonder whether the server took note of our discussion topic--Israel--because the food took interminably long in coming, despite the moderate volume of diners. The Beirut hummus (R120) could be served in Tel Aviv with pride. The tabbouleh (R120) was low on mint and wheat bits, while the baba ghanoush (R120) had a soiled, smoky flavor instead of tahini. Our hot servings were fair to middling, with the lamb dolma (R170) rather limp and served without a yogurt sauce. The kibbeh balls (R180) lacked the right proportions, being too heavily breaded. The kebabs we ordered (R190 each) differed in name only, and the various sauces all appeared to be ketchup. Besides, the toasted pita that came with them was not kosher for Passover. In fact, they were unremarkable in anything except their generous size. Sokol costs R60, while a gin tonic goes for R130, although it was certainly made without tonic and was quite likely gin-free, too. Arabic coffee costs R40. Sindbad is not the stuff legends are made out of. In name only can it be compared to Sinbad. And yet, perhaps mediocrity is just what Russia needs to get used to adjust to the loss of empire.

disapproval with their wide variety of internal organ meats. d M: Krasniye Vorota; Paveletskaya ate Upd Phone: 923-1098; 953-2876 Address: Bolshoy Kozlovsky per. 3/2; Zatsepsky val 6/13 Hours: noon - midnight Hola Mexico! $$ Cheers: eXile alert! Try the business lunch! We got black bean soup, flautas and something else for 200R! Nachos still pretty good, waitresses still pretty busty. Pork burritos back in mid-season form. Sergio the Latin dancer says the chili is "muy bien." Good place to avoid conversation with a boring date. Nice $5 margaritas, and the glasses aren't oversalted. Hot negro walks around offering tequila shots from her holster. Also try the burritos and quesadillas. If you're tired of the old standards, try the mango duck, which recently garnered a pair of yellow-tinted shades up from the Detsky Panadoll crowd. Exquisite banana split. Our Russian staffers rave about the seafood croquette. Jeers: Black bean soup's 15 minutes of fame are up--it actually has chunks of frozen brussels sprouts and cauliflower in it! Foo! Empty as a Belarussian's bank account. Fellas, ever heard of advertising? "Salsa" on nachos means a sliced cherry tomato served with a side of tabasco. Waitresses sometimes forget there's a back room. Bands still too loud. M: Kuznetsky Most Phone: 925-8251 Address: Pushechnaya ul. 7/5 Hours: noon - 5.00 Pancho Villa $$ Cheers: Ai caramba! Pancho V offers Moscow a few choice Mexican items that make it worth a visit: the lamb soup (R180), the burrito (R285) and the cheesecake (R120). That's all you need. Enchiladas are also tasty, if smallish. You won't get budget-priced Mexican food like this anywhere in the CIS. They also serve authentic snobberific blue agave tequila. Toilet plays weird soundtrack when you go in. Now has everyday breakfasts. Jeers: Avoid the skimpy chips `n salsa--go for the Nachos for only a couple bucks more. M: Smolenskaya Phone: 241-9853 Address: Stary Arbat 44/1 Hours: 24 hours Santa Fe $$$ Cheers: Full of handsome New Russian types; large bar area serving up wicked drinks. Chef hails from East LA, which should tell you something good. Once you're through here, you can head around the side to Hippopotum, and breathe your salsa breath on someone you love. Jeers: Food lacking in substance, though not in pricing. M: 1905 goda Phone: 256-2126 Address: Mantulinskaya 5/1, str. 6 Hours: noon - 02.00

Tannenbaum normally isn't down with the fish in this town, he found Ostrov's to be quite agreeable. Good selection of Crimean wines as well as fresh-squeezed juices. Also offers billiards and pool if your date is boring. Jeers: A little distant from the metro. Atomosphere is a bit sovok. Russian billiard players wear faggy little hand mitts when they play. M: Ulitsa 1905 goda Phone: 253-1001/9303 Address: 12 Krasnopresnenskaya nab. (World Trade Center, Entrance No. 2--look for the white lighthouse) Hours: 13.00 until the last customer Red Square $ - $$ Cheers: It just doesn't get any more centrally located than this; outstanding old-style Russian cuisine in an intimate atmosphere. The kind of borshch you wish your mother could make. Four-cornered kulebyaka revives warm memories of Gogol and hypochondriacal insanity. Ya gotta love that black bread ice dessert. Top-notch mors and kvas helps restore the faith of old-timers who find themselves succumbing to Russophobia. Ludicrously servile staff really gets into character. Low, curvy ceilings make for quality eavesdropping on idiot tourists. Jeers: Those idiot tourists can be depressing. Lower level bar features second-rate jazz. Kato from Tulio's is a fan. M: Ploshchad Revolyutsii Phone: 925-3600 Address: 1 Krasnaya ploshchad Hours: noon - midnight Shinok $$$ Cheers: This is the ultimate S&M Ukrainian dining experience. Seating is arranged around a massive windowed terrarium that houses chickens, roosters, a pony, sometimes a cow, and... you'll never guess... a real live peasant girl! Oh boy, is it sexy, folks. She sits quietly and obediently on a bench beside the pony, plain, pale, meek... While you feast on royal portions of superb golubtsy, borscht, varenniky and a selection of fish and meat dishes that range in price from $15 to $30. Even the waitresses are sexy and serene. The possibilities vis-a-vis the peasant girl are, as they say, endless: either she's being exploited in the late 20th Century or in the late 18th. Either way, we give it two chubbies way up! Jeers: Too expensive for Ukrainian food, especially when you consider it's not much better than Korchma. You might wind up sitting next to a loud, disgusting Texan trying to woo his plain mail-order bride, or a table of cellphone tagging molls. M: Ulitsa 1905 Goda Phone: 255-5963 Address: Ulitsa 1905 Goda (across the street from the Mezh) Hours: noon - midnight Taras Bulva Korchma $ Cheers: A super new budget option with all your Ukrainian faves at prices anyone can afford. Vareniki and borshch like mama used to make. Good service, even. Seems to be popular with quasi-thug types. You can call it "Taras Vulva" and people will laugh. Tasty mors, split pea soup. Jeers: Annoyingly quaint interior. Potato pancakes drenched in cheap oil. Waiters wear depressing straw hats like Judge Reinhold in Fast Times at Ridgemont High. You'll have to tell your khokly jokes some place else. M: Chekhovskaya Phone: 200-6082 Address: ulitsa Petrovka 30/7 (stroyenie 1) (and other places) Hours: noon - 23.00 Korchma U Pletnya $ Cheers: Biznis lunch comes with a free shot of horilka and a butter soaked blinichik! Get to see your waiter in humiliating ethnic costume. Jeers: Service that sucks you in and then leaves you hanging. Pampushki that come with borsh reminiscent of rabbit droppings in size and consistency. All meat products taste like sawdust. So cheap they charge for bread (R10.20!). M: Pavaletskaya Phone: 951-62-75 Address: Sadovnicheskaya ul. 77, str. 1 korp. 2 Hours: noon - 24.00 Vremya Est' $ Cheers: Basically this is City Grill for half the price and none of the nouvelle yuppie baggage. Great selection of bottled beer including Tsing Tao (85R), Belgian, and yes, Baltika (45R for 1/2 liter). Quality milkshakes for 45R. New Stolichny Salad (75R/135R, depending on size) and the leafy Dachny Salad (65/95) do the job. Huge pork chop with cheese topping and garnir for only 175R is a winner. Lunch specials, soups. Jeers: eXile editors suffered through agonizing interview with Om magazine correspondent here. Lunch special portions are considerably smaller and include vile pickled salads. Cute woodsy back-to-Russia interior may just be as annoying as City Grill's wannayuppiebe schtick. M: Belorusskaya Address: Lesnaya Ulitsa Hours: noon - midnight

Hours: 8.00 - 22.00 Coffee House $ Cheers: Trying to get that Starbucks' edge in Moscow, Coffee House offers what is said to be (we haven't been there yet...) quality coffee at slightly higher prices - you can even get it to go. One of the shining differences at this cafe is that you can have a variety of syrups added to your coffee (strawberry, nut, chocolate, caramel, and even banana syrup is available.) Jeers: As sources say, this place gets really crowded. Annoying size names follow in the Starbucks tradition, where small = single, medium = double, and large (or "grande," if you will) = king size. M: Pushkinskaya/Tverskaya Phone: 937-5494 Address: Tverskaya 16/2 Hours: 11.00 - 21.00 Moskva-Berlin $ Cheers: Snooty Central European-style coffee shop brought to you by the Mesto Vstrechi folks stands out from the budding Seattle-menace. Instead of the Fight Club-inspiring Swatch interior designs, this place attempts to take you back to the days of "sick old man of Europe" empires. Quaint lamps, large choice of desserts. Good caps, mini-quiche pies. The first truly post-modern toilets in Russia: see-through toilet seats and chrome base allow you to view every previous miturator's droplets. Good service. Jeers: Recent trip yeilded no coffee, as the mashina was out of order. That's like a Russian dish without dill; a bagel without cream cheese; an Indian without a convenience store. "Moscow-Berlin" name could be a cover plot by German government to infiltrate and annex Moscow. After all, those Germans still need their liebensraum. M: Belorusskaya Phone: 251-7963/-2282 Address: Ploschad Tverskaya Zastava 52/2 (to the right of Yakitoriya, across from the train station) Hours: 24 hours Orange $ Cheers: A pleasant spacey new age atmosphere and a location that couldn't be more central are all the reasons you need to checkout this coffee and tea bar. Inexpensive Caesar and Greek salads are more than passable. The booze is cheap, too. Impressive array of finger food appetizers will give you a prenatal deja vu of your parents in a 1950s basement rec room. Jeers: Watch out for that plum and bacon finger food. Its taste is entirely unidentifiable (and we don't mean that in a good way). Now that we're mostly clean, this whole caffeine thing is getting old real quick. Could be a bit too much faux-civilized Westernization for some tastes. M: Ploshad Revolutsii Phone: 238-2737 Address: Teatralnaya pl. 5/2 Hours: 10.00 - midnight Yunikon $ Cheers: A student cafe with super-low prices for coffee, tea, and some more substantial menu items. We haven't been there yet, but it's said to be cozy and comfortable, with decent food and coffee. More to come... Jeers: We don't really know what to jeer about this place quite yet, but for starters, it's probably safe to assume that there are too many students and studious people in general hanging around having intellectual conversations. M: Ploshad Revolutsii Phone: 925-4268 Address: Nikolskaya 15, at the Russian State Humanitarian University Hours: Noon - midnight Zen Coffee $ Cheers: New branch works all night! Extreme southern exposure makes it a good place to intentionally blind yourself. Coffee no longer tastes like leaky vagina. Pastries do a damn fine job looking fresh. On the central promenade features outdoor seating, choice coffees and pretentious Italyby-way-of-Seattle concoctions such as the ubiquitous Frappe, Ristrettos, Macciato and whatever the fuck else. All the girls who work here seem to have the same breasts and bras. You can order coffee in those French press things, which impresses people. Jeers: They have that business casual thing going on. Could they have thought of a lamer name? As Seattle slowly encroaches Moscow's borders, we expect to see people jogging or riding mountain bikes and wearing those stupid white helmets. M: #1: Okhotny Ryad; #2: Belorusskaya Address: #1: Ul. Bolshaya Dmitrovka 5/6 (actually on the Kamergersky Pereulok promenade just down from Tibet Kitchen); #2: Ul. Lesnaya 1/2 Phone: #1: 292-5114; #2: 234-1784 Hours: #1: 8.00-23.00, Fri: 8.00-1.00, Sat, Sun: 9.00-1.00 ; #2: 24 hours

Hours: noon - midnight Posledniye Dengi

$ Cheers: Dirt-cheap cafe serving a tasty mix of Uzbek and Georgian www. specialites. Solid plov, kharcho, and the like. 90-ruble business exile. lunch comes with a free beer. ru Waitresses look like Molly Ringwald and/or have impressive racks. The place sponsored a 10-day "EroticAlcohol" tour to Turkey that costs just $390 (we're not sure if that price includes the broads, or just the booze) last May. Jeers: Depressing interior and color scheme reminiscent of children's furniture sold at IKEA in the mid-1980s. Loud, shitty music at all times; live music and karaoke during the evenings. Becomes a "disco" after 2 a.m. M: Kita-Gorod Phone: 924-8812 Address: Lubyansky proyezd 25/1 Hours: 11.00 - 6.00

03.04.02 17.04.02

#06/138 P.17

Tamerlane $$$$ Cheers: Bills itself as the only Mongolian B.B.Q. in Moscow. You choose the meats `n toppings; they cook it on a massive Mongol grill right before your eyes. Impresses New Russians. Jeers: Even Yulki Palki can do the Mongol BBQ thing. More Holiday Inn Beni Hana than Imperial Ulan Bator. Pretentious, sneery waiters who openly `dis you if you don't spend enough money--hey, are these guys Mongols or Frogs?! After a mediocre meal, barbarian service, and shocking tab, you'll feel like your wallet was just sacked by Genghis himself. M: Kropotkinskaya Phone: 202-5649 Address: Ul. Prechistenka Hours: noon - 23.00

Kwik Eatz

Burger Kveen $ Cheers: Look, you've gotta give these guys credit for staying in business. With food this horrific, they must be great businessmen.This may well be the single worst fast food restaurant in the known world. Should be renamed E. Burger Coli. Jeers: Russia's population declining by about 300,000 people a year, which means a lot of people are still trying the food. They were stupid enough to run ads in the eXile. Their food is so awful that even the cashiers look like they have hepatitis. M: Arbatskaya Address: Nikitskaya 24 Hours: 11.00 - 02.00 Hot Smile Pizza $$ Cheers: Hot Smile didn't let themselves get too down by our last review; instead, they made some adjustments, and hot-diggity-damn is them's some good eatins! The four cheese pizza was super, crust just right. Russian staff went ga-ga over the Georgian sandwich and Mediterranean salad, and, well, it was an all-around hit. So go ahead, folks: give `er a whirl! The spicy chili pizza had authentically spicy toppings. Fried Mozzarella sticks ($4.95)Cheese pizza only $14.00. Snazzy menus. Jeers: [sic] letter writer complained that Hot Smile gave him hot burps and worse. Our first order with them was kind of a disaster, but to be fair, these folks gave it the "customer's always right" thing and our next delivery was top-notch. Pricey for what you get. Phone: 230-9323/-9388 Hours: 10.00 - 23.00; Sat, Sun: 11.00 - 23.00 Jack's $$ Cheers: eXile alert! They continue to make the eXile pizza upon request, even though it's not on the menu any more. We shit you not! Killer Brownies and chocolate chip cookies never fail to impress. Chicken club pizza sounds gross, but tastes sinfully good. Canneloni got a solid thumb-up from our sales guy. Along with Johnny's Fat Boy, the only pizza in town worth ordering over the phone (some still swear it's the best). Frequent customer deal (buy 6 pizzas, get one free) takes some of the bite out of the high pices. Try the Rusticana, Provencale, or even the good old-fashioned New Yorker (plain cheese with a hint of garlic). Huge salads and tasty sandwiches. Baltika beers delivered 3 for 2 bucks saves you from having to make a drunken run to the kiosk. Jeers: There should be a law prohibiting pizzas from getting called "The Hampster"; it sounds like it could give you AIDS. Salmon sandwich. Sometimes Sundays can be suckdays, as consistency wanes. Heed our advice: don't order the Taco Salad. It should be called "Shit Salad." Roll-ups aren't all they're cracked up to be. Still too expensive. Phone: 956-6196 Hours: 9.00 - 22.00 Johnny The Fat Boy $ Cheers: Jay upgraded the upstairs kitchen, meaning delish greasy stoner food for cheap-O 7-11 prices. Nachos would make B&B happy; chicken wings were also winners. Try the Cajun Chicken meal if you're feeling a little randy. Good place to take your provincial date, who'll think it's "klass" and won't bust your wallet. Afterwards, head downstairs into Moscow's happeningest disco. Delivers pizzas 24 hours a day, or rather 20 or so. $2.50 eggs, toast, and bacon plate is perhaps the cheapest edible breakfast option in town. Jeers: VDs from Papa Johns sometimes infect the food. Cheese pizza costs 5X more than pizza with cheese, and still tastes like AZLK tires. Menu prices and the prices on your bill have less in common than Iran and Iraq. The burrito has a little too much of a cafeteria quality to it. Sometimes if you call really early in the morning they won't deliver as promised. Sandwiches have improved, but are still inconsistent--a recent Philly cheesesteak left much to be desired; we always thought the name of the chain was Bob's Big Boy--there's something fishy here. M: Turgenevskaya Phone: 755-9554 Address: 22 Myasnitskaya

Russian

Bochka $$$ Cheers: The blini and pork and chicken shashlyk, as well as the service, were of particular joy to Mr. Snideman. Low-lit wood and brick interior is extremely inviting; good service; great salads and vareniki. The turkey shashlyk (it's not on the menu, but ask for it anyway) is superb; it's just across the street from the Mezh' hotel, Krazy Kevin's preferred playground for the suicidally inclined. Jeers: Located in the middle of nowhere; often crowded with hordes of New Russians with cellphones permanently attached to their ears. The bull-on-the-pit Friday nights isn't all it's cracked up to be. Best to stick to the menu items. M: Ulitsa 1905 goda Address: ul. 1905 goda 2 Phone: 252-3041 Hours: 24 hours Cafe Pushkin $$$ Cheers: If you've got the dough, all-in-all the most impressive "haute rus" cuisine. Excellent reconstruction of a pre-Revolutionary building, four floors of restaurant seating. Food and service superb. Black caviar with bliny ($23) melts in your mouth. Excellent solyanka ($9), pelmeni, and main courses. Jeers: The ultimate in bourgeoisie retro. Packed full of quasi-cultured Russian bobos and foreigners with sluts. Why pay this much for local food? M: Pushkinskaya Phone: 229-5590 Address: Tverskoi bulvar 26A Hours: noon - midnight Drova $ Cheers: This buffet-style mecca for coupon-clipping eXpats has rapidly become a nerd herd favorite. Offers $4 lunch specials and $9 all-you-caneat from a large, large selection of Russian food and even sushi. Decent pork offerings, soup. Prompt (self) service. Jeers: The sushi tastes like Putin's sweaty balls. Salads are atrocious unless mayonaissed. Inedible pirozhki, vomit-like sweet-n-sour chicken, chebureki taste like Kursky Vokzal rejects. You couldn't pay us $9 to eat this crap. CheapO coupon-clipping eXpats love it. M: Turgenevskaya Phone: 925-2725 Address: Myasnitskaya ul. 24 Hours: 24 hours Dyadya Vanya $$ Cheers: They make a mean pelmeni. Big mountain of beats without undue smetana or black plums. Good at all those cliched Russian dishes. Jeers: eXile alert! More expensive and worse quality than rumors make it out to be. Anything vaguely deviating from traditional Russian food tastes like old shoe leather. After a recent meal, one of us stuck three fingers down his throat and the other did shots of Drano in order to restore gastral equilibrium. This is must be what Terrance and Phillip meant by "Uncle Fucker". M: Pushkinskaya Phone: 232-1448 Address: B. Dmitrovka, 17 Hours: always Mesto Vstrechi $$ Cheers: One of Moscow's best mid-range, low-key options, attracting a smart young crowd. Cellar atmosphere, tasteful music that doesn't blow your eardrums out, and top-quality food at a great Val-U. Salmon carpaccio is a salmon-lover's treat. Try the gumbo soup, pork ribs, and the eggplant appetizers. 3-course Biz lunch special said to kick hind. Chicken fried in a curry sauce was huge, juicy, and packed full o' flavor. Jeers: Name may be hard for USAID people to remember. Lots of wood everywhere. M: Pushkinskaya Phone: 229-2373 Address: Maly Gnezdnikovsky per. 9/8 Hours: noon - 5.00 Na Melnitse $$ Cheers: Another of those old-style New Russian joints with quaint woodsy interior and "classic" cuisine, but the real reason to come here may just be the variety of mixed green salads for around $6, including a superb (and quite massive) fresh spinach salad with pine nuts for just $5.50. Nice pirozhki and borshch, delectable vareniki with cherries, rock solid (not literally, of course) cranberry mors. Garderobshchik in period garb hands you a little imitation flour sack in lieu of the usual coat-check tag. Jeers: Vareniki with mushrooms way overpriced at $11. Haphazard, vulgarly arranged "elite" liquor table in the center of the room offends even our crass, suburban-bred sensibilities--when will these mud people learn? They won't let you eat the live pheasant. We wish the coffee were just a little bit better. M: Krasniye Vorota Phone: 925-8890 Address: Sadovaya-Spasskaya ulitsa, 24/50 Hours: noon - midnight

Steppe

Kish-Mish $ Cheers: Who'd a thunk you could put so many Uzbek ingredients in the salad bar?! Reliable, tasty, accessible: a new standard for Uzbek food on the New Arba!. High funny-hat factor. Cheap prices for ol' Uzkbek standbys like plov (105R), which is properly greasy and garlicky, samstovy (55R), manty (105R for two big dumplings). 45 rubles for .5l Baltika. Jeers: They look at youfunny if you eat with your hands. Kimmelman had nothing to say about the waitress' ass. Portions skimpy, salad bar now costs R170. Door thugs recall President Karimov goons. M: #1: Arbatskaya; #2: Berrikadnaya Phone: #1: 291-2010; #2: 202-1085 Address: #1: Novy Arbat 28; #2: ul. Barrikadnaya 8/9 Hours: 11.00 - midnight Navruz $$$ Cheers: Authentic Uzbek cuisine with hookas all around; if your daughter keeps asking for a pony for her birthday, take her here and order the horse sausage--that'll shut her up; the house salad, lagman (a spicy vegetable soup), pilafs, and shashlyk are all delicious; wacked-out funky decor with cool seat cushions. Jeers: One of our disgruntled readers complained of having to cough up 21 smackers for a bottle of water, and being threatened by flathead management if they didn't pay; that makes Navruz a little too authentically Uzbeki for our tastes. Occasionally high flathead factor in the evening attracted to Navruz flat bread. On the first floor of one of Moscow's most unattractive buildings. M: Dinamo Phone: 945-0451/0699 Address: ul. Begovaya 36

Seafood

Crab House $$$ Cheers: Some say the king crab (when they have it) and lobster are still pretty good. Still has that fun metallic multi-level interior. Jeers: The famously stingy Lionel Tannenbaum ate only a single bite of each item during a recent business lunch escapade. This place is a pale shadow of its former self. Depressingly deserted most of the time; watery, barely unfrozen carapaccio, grilled fish that's over-salted and just plain sucks. Impossibly bland clam chowder and probably the worst Caesar salad in town. Expensive and shite. Starvin' Ivan is said to be making reservations for one here in the near future. M: Okhotny Ryad Address: Tverskaya 6 Phone: 292-5360 Hours: noon - 6.00

Seattle

5 Fly $ Cheers: Cute, bored waitresses pose as mannequins in the picture windows late at night. When the masses at Propaganda get to you, you can chill here for a while. Waitresses treat you like the first customer of the year. And you probably are. Sweets fresh even at three in the morning. Decent Italian coffee. Claim to have real fresh hot chocolate using Italian chocolate (55R). Jeers: Their "macchiato" ain't no macchiato. Bland dorkadent interior with five Russian pop songs on an endless loop. No liquor license yet. M: Kitai Gorod Phone: 923-3351 Address: Pokrovka 4 Hours: 24 hours Soleil Cafe $ Cheers: Waytago, Soleil Cafe! Super cheap sandwiches (less than R100) among the best lunches around for "people on the go". Maybe the only coffee shop in town that doesn't deserve to be hit by an errant U.S. daisy cutter. Killer desserts and pastries single best way known to man to go on an economical date and still get laid. No longer relies on pre-made food-- all the sandwiches are produced on the spot! The editorial staff stopped in here for coffee, sandwiches, and pastries just minutes before hitting NY Times bureau chief Michael Wines with a custard-cream pie made of horse sperm! Apricot danish earned two sperm-caked thumbs up all around. Just the kind of place you'd like to "drop by for lunch." Cheap salads and sandwiches with lots of grilled vegetables. Well-lit Brasserie-style interior; good coffee; delicious desserts. Jeers: Peak hours can be like a press conference with free food. Mushroom soup experience completely forgettable. What's with all the mayo on the salads? Aggressive tray-wielding office peons who watch Poslednyi Geroi obsessively dine here and could snap at any moment. M: #1: Tsvetnoi Bulvar; #2: Paveletskaya d Phone: #1: 725-6474/5; #2: 937-0531/2 ate Upd Address: #1: Sadovaya-Samotechnaya 24/27; #2: Paveletskaya ploshchad 2/1 Hours: 8.30 - 23.00 (weekends 10.00 - 23.00) Coffee Bean $ Cheers: Leaky vagina coffee is back and takin' prisoners. Servers function like independent Al Qaeda cells operating without knowledge of the others' action. New Tverskaya location more popular than Survivor. The first Seattle-style coffee shop in Moscow; jumbo capuccinos, tasty torts, lots of faux brick, wine by the glass. Sells the best coffee, aromatic and otherwise, in Moscow. Has a much smaller, less pretentious brother next to the Duck. Jeers: eXile alert! Pokrovka location woefully understaffed by ridiculously pedantic gloom grrls who spend way too much time on each order. Krazy Kevin waited 30 minutes recently just to order an Irish Coffee, even though there were only three dorks ahead of him. Distinctive leaky vagina flavor in American coffee may signal either quality fall-off, or adapting to Russian tastes. Dangerously high Friends/Reality Bites factor. No smoking. So authentically Seattle-esque that you may inadvertantly walk out with an eyebrow stud and not even know it. M: Big: Chistiye Prudy; New: Pushkinskaya Phone: B: 923-9793 Address: B: Ulitsa Pokrovka 18; new: across from Luzhkov's office on Tverskaya

$$$$ Cheers: Don't let the $$$$ fool you--the $56 per head pricetag includes absolutely all U can eat and drink (except for so-called "rare" wines). Luxurious yet welcoming 19th century interior, endless old-style appetizers, 2-portion main menu that changes daily, and totally smokin' samogon make this a perfect to take your folks or other out-of-towners. Dapper, 7-foot-tall host displays appropriate sexism in doling out the samogon. The homemade cranberry mors is pretty damn special, too. Special theme-based smaller rooms for more intimate occasions. Jeers: Unfortunately, the design is based on closet fascist Mikhalkov's movie version of the Goncharov novel--NatsBols may not be welcome. Our production manager thought Oblomov was written by Dostoevsky. M: Ulitsa 1905 goda Phone: 255-9290 (1-day advance reservations recommended) Address: Ulitsa 1905 goda 2 (upstais from Mao) Hours: 19.00 - 24.00 Ostrov Krym $$ Cheers: Amusing Faux-Crimean atmosphere. Located in awkwardly designed World Trade Center. Veranda has pleasant view of the river. Indoor eating has cheesy music played at a tastefully low volume. Although

Ariel Cohen, Ph.D., is Research Fellow at the Heritage Foundation. He is the author of Russian Imperialism: Development and Crisis, (Praeger/Greenwood,

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SHOW TIMES

aAll films shown in Russian, except those marked * (subtitled) and as otherwise indicated. AMERICA CINEMA Radisson-Slavjanskaya Hotel M: Kievskaya, 941-8747 (All films shown in English; Russian headphone translation available Tue.Sun.) Harry Potter & the Sorcerer's Stone Apr. 3: 19.30; Apr. 4: 21.00; Apr. 5 : 21.00; Apr. 6 - Apr. 7: 13.00, 18.00; Apr. 8: 21.00; Apr. 9 - Apr. 10: 18.30; Apr. 13 - Apr. 14: 13.00, 18.00 Birthday Girl Apr. 5: 19.00; Apr. 6 - Apr. 7: 16.00, 21.00; Apr. 8: 19.00; Apr. 9 - Apr. 10: 21.00; Apr. 11: 21.30; Apr. 12 - Apr. 13: 21.00; Apr. 14: 16.00 Mondscheintarif Apr. 11: 19.30; Apr. 12: 19.00; Apr. 13: 16.00; Apr. 14: 21.00 DOME CINEMA 18/1, Olympiysky prospekt M: Prospect Mira Tel. 931-9873 Black Hawk Down Apr.3 18.00; Apr. 6: 19.00; Apr. 7: 21.30; Apr. 8 - Apr. 14 The Lord of the Rings Apr. 3: 20.45; Apr. 5: 19.00; Apr. 6: 12.00, 15.30; Apr. 7: 11.00, 14.30, 18.00; Apr. 8 - Apr. 14 Mulholland Drive Apr. 5: 22.30; Apr. 6: 22.00; Apr. 8 - Apr. 14 Monsters, Inc. Apr. 13 Apr. 14 A Beautiful Mind Apr. 8 Apr. 14 35MM 47/24, Ul. Pokrovka M: Krasnye Vorota Tel. 917-5492 Monster's Ball Apr. 3 - Apr. 10: 9.00, 11.00, 13.00, 15.00, 17.00, 19.00, 21.00, 23.00, 01.00; Apr. 11: 9.00, 11.00, 13.00, 15.00, 17.00 Dog Days Apr. 11: 22.00, 0.15; Apr. 12 - Apr. 17: 10.00, 12.15, 14.30, 16.45, 19.00, 21.15, 23.15, 01.15 SPORTLAND -- MOVIE RESTAURANT Novy Arbat, 21 Metro: Arbatskaya Tel: 291-2041 (Free Entrance) Spiders 2* Apr. 3: 13.00 Octopus* Apr. 4: 13.00 Air Panic* Apr. 5: 13.00 Cold Heart* Apr. 8, 11: 13.00 The Order* Apr. 9, 12: 13.00 Body Works* Apr. 10, 17: 13.00 Intruder* Apr. 15: 13.00 High Explosive* Apr. 16:

Just the Fakti

Cat Power is playing in a few hours somewhere down in Williamsburg, so it's a matter of some urgency that I churn out this piece in nearrecord time. Therefore, you'll have to cut me some slack if I'm less skittish, rambling, or "krazy" than usual. I could blame jetlag, but that would be a lie. Lies have never, ever appeared in this space, god knows, and I'm not about to start now. No, the direct approach will have to do: I'm rushing this off in order to go to a room full of annoying little men with pointy beards where Chan Marshall will do her patented Kim Carnes impersonation through what I hope is a decent sound system. And now, live from New York, it's Kino Korner.

Krazy Kevin's

for violence and some language, as in Arnold appears to be speaking some language, although no one is quite able to tell exactly which one.

Ali

It would appear to be difficult to make a completely uninteresting biopic on legendary boxer Muhammad Ali, but Michael Mann has nevertheless given it his best shot. By the way, this movie had at least 13 different producers. Too many chefs will indeed spoil the soup, especially if several of them insist on pissing into it. Still, despite Mann's best attempts to turn an engrossing story into a rather tedious one, Ali does feature some excellent individual performances, not least of all by the Fresh Prince in the title role. I fully expected his portrayal of the Champ to be mostly laughable, but he acquitted himself admirably, even in the overly long fight scenes. Jamie Foxx was also quite good as Drew "Bundini" Brown, and Jon Voight's best supporting actor nomination for his performance as Howard Cosell was one of this year's few truly deserving Oscar nods. On other hand, Mario Van Peebles and Mykelti Williamson were equally ludicrous as Malcolm X and Don King, respectively. Much like the first ten years of Russian reform, this is the kind of film that youngsters will marvel at years from now as they wonder where all that money actually went. Ali is rated R, for language and brief violence.

Pirate Video Reviews

Kino Korner

American history, but I'm not so sure. After all, the period of America "coming together" post-9/11 lasted all of a few months and strangers are now back to their good old nasty selves, with gobs more undisguised disgust and distrust than ever before. For instance, I was verbally harassed on my Saturday flight by elderly Americans on several occasions simply as a result of following the instructions of airline and customs officials as to which line to join. And based on the current mainstream news reporting, the events of 9/11 have not really led to any greater soul searching as to the roots of terrorism. As far as most people are concerned, it's still every bit as one-sided a story as it ever was. In this context, Arnold's career as the star of

SHOWTIME (comedy)

ROBERT DENIRO EDDIE MURPHY RENEE RUSSO

This is just hit the theaters in America, so the pirate video's color quality lacks. The first thing you notice is that all the male Negroes seem to be covered in giant pearls of sweat all over their heads, which makes it kind of surreal until you realize it's just a pirate video defect. The film stars Eddie Murphy as--get this--a cop... the only role he can play without totally sucking, who in the first 2 minutes gets chewed out by an equally sweaty Negro sergeant. A good sign, the whole play-on-cliche thang. Robert DeNiro plays a cop too, looking, in the pirate tape pixel, like a pasty middle-aged expat from the Boar House. Leading lady Renee Russo looks increasingly like a cross between Sentaor John Kerry and Skelator in her role as an annoying TV producer. She is a penisshriveler. Here you get the statement-on-the-sensationalistmedia theme that thinks it's smarter for being quasi-postmodern, and for its selfreferential scenes (De Niro doing a purposefully bad "Taxi" imitation), all framed in typical Big Studio plot formula of cops who don't get along and the crazy bitch who gets between them. In one scene, Murphy pulls up in his brand new convertible, James Brown soundtrack blaring "I Feel Good". DeNiro gets annoyed. Murphy talks a lot of jive smack. The director winks. We're supposed to think it's both smart and fun. That's the flick. The inevitable transformation of character is telegraphed from so far away you could conceivably get up after the first sweaty Negro scene, and return 90 minutes later without missing a thing. If you like this kind of formulaic cop flick with a wacky Negro sidekick, and a halfinteresting Evil Criminals subplot, but can do without the hackneyed post-modern frills, get Rush Hour 2--it's much funnier and the gook babe from Crouching Camel-Toe, Hidden Snapper is in it wearing a tight black vinyl bodysuit. One nice thing is that midway through Showtime the pirate video went mercifully blank, which was fine because I had taken an Immovane and was drooling onto my touchpad mouse. That's all I can write. QUALITY: The clerk called it "sredny", which is right if you consider it only shows half the film in average pirate quality; we

Collateral Damage

This is essentially the same action film Arnold Schwarzenegger has been making since his characters began to

Crossroads

Given that this is Britney Spears's film debut, the only thing on most readers' minds will be whether or not the no-longer-teen pop sensation goes the Halle Berry route and shows her tits (or more). The answer to that question, I'm sorry to say, is an unequivocal no. And just for all you Belgians out there, neither does Britney's younger sister Jamie Lynn, who plays the young Britney in the film and today (April 4) celebrates her 11th birthday--so be sure to send her one of those annoying online greeting cards with veiled references to how you want to munch her box or something. But even with the slim boob pickins, there's some amusement to be had in the fact that what is marketed as sappy teen bimbo fluff is actually a real downer of a film about murderous, two-timing, dateraping boyfriends and bitter mothers revealing to their teenage daughters that they were horrible "mistakes." Hell, some of you might even take this one as a coming-of-age comedy. And for this, director Tamra Davis (who despite having done both CB4 and Billy Madison is probably still best known as the wife of Mike D from the Beastie Boys) is to be congratulated, at least a little bit. Crossroads is rated PG-13, for

speak in complete sentences. Within that limited genre, it's better than many of the entries but not quite up there with his top work--despite the fact that it was concocted by no fewer than eight different producers ranging from the simple variety, to cos, associates, and executives. Apparently, it's only a coincidence that Arnold plays a fireman (in Los Angeles, not New York) who goes off to Columbia for vigilante justice after his wife and daughter are inadvertently killed by a terrorist's bomb meant for highly placed U.S. officials. Nevertheless, the plot's resonance with the events of 9/11 will probably serve to make the movie distasteful to many viewers. Pop Quiz: can you remember the last time an Arnold movie wife (and perhaps his child--always an only child, incidentally) survived until the end of the film? That is, if she wasn't already dead when the movie started. No, I can't either, but I have this feeling it might have been True Lies. If I were Maria Shriver, this long string of dead cinematic spouses would worry me at least a little bit. Another Pop Quiz: which special ops division of the U.S. military did Arnold wonderfully named fireman, Gordy Brewer, apparently graduate from? I want to say the Navy SEALS, although there's no actual indication that Gordy was even ever in the military. Some reviewers have opined that this film is the last of its kind, a pop cultural relic from a more naive time in

overtly jingoistic action films with political storylines that have been dumbed down to pre-kindergarten levels should be safe for years to come. Two of Spike Lee's favorite Johns, Turturro and Leguizamo have amusing bit parts in this one, the latter as a Canadian! Good for him. Also, the Italian broad who plays the Colombian terrorist's wife is pretty sexy. Accomplished director Andrew Davis (who, incidentally, operated the camera on the Matt Dillon "youth in crisis" classic Over the Edge) definitely has me on the edge of my seat with expectation for his scheduled 2003 release Holes. Whatever the fuck it ends up being about, you just know it's going to be good. Collateral Damage is rated R,

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Page 19

Great Literary Frauds of Our Time

Brought to you by ENRON With your host Dr. John Dolan

And she is a fraud. A literary careerist who has parlayed an overwritten melodrama into unearned fame; a child of privilege whose early experiments in poverty were no more than a smart career move; a Yuppie whose real job was aerobics instructor, not slum bottle-recycler; a world-travelled, overeducated dilettante posing as a regional writer; and a fake saint who fucked her way to fame and survives, in spite of her complete lack of talent, because her crude scolding warms the heart of old British lefties who love it when their tame Indian slaves get up on their hind legs to denounce the bloody Americans, who oppress the world so much less skillfully than they used to. Her most public, most embarrassing slip came in her noble struggle against the dam. She was given a three month jail sentence for obstructing the builders. Gandhi-like, she went to jail...then slunk out after 24 hours, opting to pay a 75-rupee ($1.50) fine rather than show solidarity with the humble prisoners. It seems she found an Indian prison much less spiritual than she had imagined. Rather dirty, in fact. 24 hours was just time enough to be photographed behind bars, looking fierce and defiant; after that there was no point in staying in such an unsanitary place. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Arundhati Roy, moral crusader. At least some of her fans are honest about why they love her: "I like Arundhati Roy more because of [her articles] than the fiction," admits the owner of a fansite. Roy herself is very nervous about when, or whether, she will produce any more novels ("I don't believe I must write another book just because I'm a 'writer'"); obviously, she would prefer to drop the pretense of literary writing and focus on the production of moral essays. Try to read her Booker-Prize winning novel, The God of Small Things, and you soon see why Roy is so cagey about whether she'll ever risk writing fiction again. There's a pattern to overpraised first novels: they all begin with a big, neon sign announcing the "theme" which will be thrashed out in the rest of the book. Roy's novel is a classic of the breed; by the end of page one, even a mongoose could figure out the thesis: "Roy's juxtaposition of the wonderful fecundity of the Indian landscape, contrasted with the cruel and arbitrary rules controlling how people can love." It's all there, in the first paragraph of the novel--poppin' off the page like an aerobics instructor sweatin' her Danskins off to a hot Bollywood beat: "May in Ayemenem [pronounced "Eminem"] is a hot, brooding month...But by early June...the countryside turns an immodest green. Boundaries blur as tapioca fences take root and bloom. Pepper vines snake up electric poles. The wild, overgrown garden was full of the whisper and scurry of small lives. In the undergrowth a rat snake rubbed itself against a glistening stone. Hopeful yellow bullfrogs cruised the scummy pond for mates. A drenched mongoose flashed across the leaf-strewn driveway." Poor old D. H. Lawrence, trying to get all Freudian with that freezing Yorkshire climate! If the poor bastard had just gone to Kerala, where pepper vines snake up electric poles and rat snakes rub themselves against glistening stones while drenched mongooses jerk off into scummy ponds, he would've realized how much easier it is to sex up a landscape where the temperature is a steady 120 degrees in the shade. It might seem a tad derivative to do D. H. Lawrence seventy years after Lawrence; but that's the beauty of claiming a new provincial landscape for yourself, as Roy claimed Kerala: you can do the old tricks all over again, and still get full credit! You're a primitive artist, not a plagiarist! And if you weld the old Laurentian horny-landscape rhetoric onto a classic middlebrow ideology--ie, "Love is good, while anti-love rules are bad"--well, you da big Bombay dotheaded nuke BOMB, baby! The next big thing at the Starbucks Book Club! Poisonwood Bible with a tabla beat! The Shipping News with extra masala! Hold the dahl and pass the adjectives! That's the recipe for Goddess of Small Things, and it cooked up very nicely for Roy. Her babbling tale of innocent nature vs. evil prejudice worked because, far from being a primitive work by a third-world novelist, it was simply an Indian version of that tedious high-school tearjerker, To Kill A Mockingbird. Roy herself was unwise enough to admit her debt to the Mockingbird in an early interview. The acknowledgment slipped out while she was bemoaning the tedium of being compared to the great novelists of the past century. Ah, how tiresome! The poor kid! Her complaint has to be read in full to get an idea of her astounding vanity: "It's not just Rushdie that I'm compared to. There's Garcia-Marquez, Joyce...and Faulkner. Yes, I'm compared to Faulkner the most. But I've never read Faulkner before! I have, however, read some other writers from the American South--Mark Twain, Harper S. Lee [author of To Kill A Mockingbird]-- and I think that perhaps there's an infusion or intrusion of landscape in their literature that might be similar to mine." In acknowledging her debt to Harper Lee, Roy admitted more than she knew. To Kill A Mockingbird is the true ancestor of The God of Small Things. Like Roy's novel, it reduces an intricate and accursed landscape, the American South, to a simple clash of patronizing middle-class virtue and trashy local prejudice solved with a grand courtroom drama. Roy takes the even older and more vicious landscape of Southern India and subjects it to an equally simple cleansing via the redemptive power of hot intercaste fucking. The God of Small Things is a hit with coffeehouse book clubs now for the same reason that To Kill A Mockingbird was a hit with Reader's Digest types fifty years ago. Both affirm the dim simplicities: Children are innocent; grownups are bad. Love is good; prejudice is bad. So why has this one-hit wonder become such a prestigious essayist? And that's where Roy's second career comes into the picture. If you want a really reliable career as a vendor of pious lies, the essay is the way to go. It's good to have that first novel on your CV for ballast, but for a steady career it's better to become a professional denouncer of evil. Roy was in position when 9/ll happened, ready to scold on front pages all over the world--or at least the big chunk of it that used to be British. Within a few weeks, she produced an astounding article called "the Algebra of Infinite Justice," originally printed in the Guardian but since disseminated by email through all the laid-off countries which once produced the middle managers of the British Empire. From Canada to New Zealand, you hear Roy's article quoted with glee by grumpy old white men who usually respond with bitter letters to the editor when the local aboriginals get stroppy. Yet these bilious old racists simply melt when Roy's big brown eyes appear. The paradox is not really so hard to understand. Roy, for the old Anglos, is a convenient little brown stick with which to beat the Americans, whom the grumpy old Anglos hate even more than they hate the Abos. The Americans put these guys out of an Empire-managing job, and they will never forgive that or lose their conviction that the world was oppressed far better under the Union Jack than the Stars and Stripes. Roy's article has as its touchingly simple thesis the gloating notion that--and this is a direct quote--"what goes around comes around." It would be difficult to think of a more self-evidently false assertion about the world. If what went around ever actually came around, Roy and her sponsors would not exist--because if ever a culture inflicted horrors on the world, it was Victorian Britain. Yet no divine lightning ever struck that lucky, bloodstained Empire. Karma schmarma; Roy's real argument, the one which makes her so beloved of the grumpy old Brits, is much simpler: ha ha on you upstart Americans. She made this much clearer in one of her most recent nag-essays, this one on nuclear war. (She's against it.) She paints the usual picture of nuclear horror, a tableau perfected 50 years ago, then assigns blame: "But let us pause to give credit where it's due. Whom must we thank for all this? The Men who made it happen. The Masters of the Universe. Ladies and gentlemen, the United States of America! Come on up here folks, stand up and take a bow. Thank you for doing this to the world. Thank you for making a difference. Thank you for showing us the way. Thank you for altering the very meaning of life." Isn't that lovely? It almost justifies the notion of Arundhati Roy as true moral crusader--because with enemies like that, nuclear weapons begin to look pretty good. After all, why has no one spoken up in favor of nuclear winter? It would certainly silence Roy. In particular, a nuclear war between Pakistan and India has a lot to recommend it, above all the extinction of God knows how many plaster saints on the Gandhi/Roy/Baghwan model. Perhaps she will go down in intellectual history as a true Kali, the bringer of destruction--the mother of the Great Winter. It would be the antithesis of all that Roy represents: a cold silence, a complete answer to the fecund heat of her animate Kerala landscape. So scold on, Arundhati! Preach against the nukes till we all long for them, and the inclusive answer they offer to the terrible prospect of you, and your successors, remaining at the podium for another eon. Hail the Winter that has no Spring!

Fraud's Gallery:

BIGGER THAN B.S.

By Vlad Ossovsky

The popularity of the new novel Bol'she Bena [Bigger Than Ben] among Russian pseudo-intellectuals and patriots knows no bounds, despite the fact that that the book doesn't say anything new to anyone. The adventures of two Russian lowlife-skinheads in London, told in diary-like form, seemed fresh at first when set against the background of 90s postmodern-conceptualist mind-fuckers like Sorokin and Pelevin. Maybe this explains why Bigger Than Ben's authors won the "Debut" award. The story follows a pair of trash-talking Moscow hoodlums who show up in London with almost no money. It's described in energetic language which borrows from skinhead and soccer-hooligan slang (the novel comes with a glossary), reads smoothly and effortlessly. Its coauthors, of course, do not take it to the level of Ilf and Petrov, but that's not important. The main thing is that they're the first to exploit truly contemporary attitudes and language. Our society hates everything: dark-skinned Caucasians, niggers from Patrice Lumumba, foreigners (especially Americans), limitchiki [pejorative slang for provincials who move to Moscow--Ed.], khokly, kikes and what have you; and moreover, it loves those who directly or indirectly degrade it. Our idols today are Brat Danila, who served in Chechnya and rubbed out enemies of the Fatherland one after the other in their outhouses, and now Spiker and Sobakka... If some limitchik were to put his own life in Moscow into words, there would be practically no chance of ever publishing the book, despite the fact that it is far more difficult to survive in this megapolis than in London. Here there will never be change left in the pay-phones or cases of beer forgotten at the bus stop, as happens with our protagonists in Bigger than Ben. Here, while attempting to spend the night in the airport or at the train station, it's easy to land in the dumpster and get the shit kicked out of you. Here you can get your head cracked open for nothing. It would hardly be interesting for us to read about something we already know. We have Dorozhniy Patrul for that. What could be more pleasing for us to read than about how our compatriots easily and joyfully cook up shady plans with mobile telephones, forge accounts and ID cards, call people "genetic filth", steal food from "Pakis", rob supermarkets and easily escape from the difficult situations which they face daily? Overall, everything is done in a very Russian style. "Here are these idiot Englishmen," we think, rooting for our "heroes" and trying to memorize all of their little tricks to get around the law. Who knows? Maybe it will come in handy some day. Russia needed this book as its little form of revenge for the fact that Russians are officially recognized as a nation of losers. What's interesting is that one of the authors of Bigger than Ben--Pavel Teterskiy (Sobakka)-- refused all rights and tried to disown authorship, having stated that this book was the worst out of everything that he had written...while at the same time his sidekick Sergey Sakin (Spiker) transferred to himself the rights to the book and built a powerful PR machine, calling himself a "pisatel'" [what kind of profession is that?], appearing on mainstream TV shows like Posledniy Geroy, and conducting negotiations with film studios about developing the book into a film. The host of Posledniy Geroy was none other than Sergey Bodrov, Jr., i.e Brat Danila. In spite of the fact that of the two, Spiker didn't stick around London until his visa expired, returning to Moscow and abandoning his friend and co-author. Today his picture is at bus stops, on posters with J-7 grapefruit juice and on the covers of glossy magazines. He turned out to be a remarkable entrepreneur, but now who will believe that he is an actual pisatel'? Sobakka illegally slipped across the German border several times, hitchhiked and wrote interesting columns in youth magazines. It would make sense to watch what he does and see if maybe he

By John Dolan

FRAUD #1 Arundhati Roy: The Goddess of Big Lies She was voted one of the "50 Most Beautiful People in the World" by People Magazine. That was in 1998; she's officially "in her late thirties" now, her age blurring like her prose; but it will always be her very young self which stares out from the book jackets of her one and only novel. Her face is turned toward the camera with a sleepy, pouting expression straight out of Playboy, her winsome curls as damp as her big brown eyes, her reassuringly Aryan features conveniently enclosed by demonstrably nonwhite skin. Her interviews, usually conducted by a trembling, menopausal Commonwealth zhurnalistka, slither toward softcore when describing her: "An explosion of curly black hair...showcases nearly childlike, saucer eyes and cheekbones that erupt the moment she talks or smiles." She is "the first Indian citizen to win a Booker Prize and a million-dollar book deal." She copyrighted the whole high-culture section of the "intercaste lovemaking" market--and remember, that's the biggest market of all, the basis of bodice-rippers like Mandingo, She Was A Pirate's Booty, Barbarian Concubine, and Captive Princess. Her novel is praised around the world by dotards like John Updike, who drove the populist ball straight onto the green by calling it "a Tiger Woodsian debut." But most of her fans prefer to praise her writing in terms like "luscious," "sensual," and "extravagant"--the rhetoric of high-priced icecream bars. She is also a saint, the latest great Aryan hope from the land which gave us Gandhi, Nehru and the Baghwan Shree Rajneesh-- virtually all of the most tedious saints of the last century. She is said to have left home at 16 to live in a squatter's colony in Delhi, earning a living collecting beer bottles. Our Lady of Recycling, who even in starvation made a career of high-profile virtue. She is supposed to be the pure product of the fertile soil of Kerala, site of her one and only novel. Like all Indian saints, her dream is to scold the rich and successful countries for their lack of...their lack of...something or other. Virtue, poverty, skin diseases, flies around the eyes...something. She put her nobelprizewinning life on the line to oppose a dam which would displace thousands of villagers.

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DO JEWS DRINK THE BLOOD OF CHRISTIAN BABIES ON PASSOVER?

an eXile street poll

EDUARD TIKHONOV 31, DRIVER There is some blood drinking in the Jewish community, but I don't think that is a reason to damn them all. Solzhenitsyn said as much in 200 Years Together. To paraphrase, those among them who went to the pains of having their tails surgically removed should simply be shipped to Bribibdzhan and left to their own devices.

YEKATERINA ABRAMOVA 23, LAWYER As a Jew, I have attended many Seders, so maybe I can shed some light onto this discussion. Do you think I look like Monica Lewinsky?

ANYA MIROVNA 42, CLEANING WOMAN In a market economy, it is difficult to control employers. And since so many employers happen to be Jewish, it goes without saying that some of them will choose women of child-bearing age in order to get access to newborns. Often a Jew will save a woman employee from having an abortion, thereby performing a service, since abortions are very dangerous to one's health.

YEVGENY NIKOMENKO 42, UNEMPLOYED WELDER To them, it's just a question of maintaining a set of religious convictions. It is the same reason they don't eat shellfish. Even if I don't necessarily approve of it, it's a free country and I won't tell them how to live their lives.

VITALY YUDIN 27, GOVERNMENT WORKER Do fish swim? Of course Jews drink the blood of infants. They especially like the taste of Slavic blood. The collapse of communism, the rise of Berezovsky, Gusinsky and Abramovich, the "declining birthrate"? Hello? These are no coincidences. Once central authority collapsed, these men made their fortunes marketing fresh Russian babies to Israel.

ARIEL COHEN 22, BLACK No one in my family has ever witnessed this practice first hand, although I'm pretty sure it happens. I'm not anti-Semitic, some of my best friends are Jewish. But nobody would just make something like that up. Even rumors are usually based on something.

Whore-O-Scopes

By Lilya Cherbakova

Plenty of astrologers out there just give lip service to our relationship to that oh-so-vast kosmos... I'm not saying I can't do lip service--you don't even want lip service from me, 'cause it'll never be good with other girls again, I'm that good. All I'm saying is that all those stars (not just the three you see on a cloudless Moscow night) all those hundreds of stars are trying to tell us something, if only we'd listen. Well, now, you don't have to, 'cause I'm going to do the work for you! I even thought about going professional at one point, but I like the flexible hours pimping myself gives me. Besides, in terms of remuneration, we're talking different galaxies. But you don't pay me to babble, so find your sign and don't say I didn't warn you!

ARIES (Mar. 21-Apr. 19) Hey, what are you afraid of? You just got to get over that hump and do it! Get over all those complexes and live life to the fullest. Remember, just 'cause you're paying doesn't mean they don't like it. Girls don't find vacillation attractive (or profitable) in a man. So take the bull by the horns. Only, make sure the bull's not a Taurus. TAURUS (Apr. 20-May 20) You're about to pay for some of your extravagances in the past. Yeah, I know it felt good at the time but, hey, this isn't the 90's any more. You got to protect yourself! This time it's nothing that a little azithromycin won't cure... I think. But then, I never said I could see six months in the future, did I? Venus is in Taurus for the next 3 1/2 weeks, so don't expect a quick fix. GEMINI (May 21-June 20) Always the dreamer, but you still can't get decent job! Well, I'd probably be livin' in a dream world too if I looked like you. Money talks, bullshit walks. Settle down and try to actually get something done for once. No blaming Aries when you can't even seem to get your secretaries to pay attention to you. Maybe it's time for a new hairstyle... or cosmetic surgery. I know whores who wouldn't go home with you for any amount. CANCER (June 21-July 22) Better stop giving out your number to every biped you see if you want to keep your lady friend from letting her mini ride up as she climbs the career ladder. Then again, Russian girls are nothing if not career oriented--just look at me! So give up the lost cause. You ought to reassess your priorities, or at least your standards. Pisces has something you need. LEO (July 23-Aug. 22) You will be asked how much you make. IT'S A TRICK QUESTION!!! And there is no "right" answer. Make sure you agree on a price beforehand and don't pass out too quickly afterward. Seem like too much work? What are your alternatives, Propaganda? Tcha, and I might go home with four Chechens in a Jeep! VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22) This week you're your own best friend. Why waste money on overpriced Sokol and girls at the Boar House when you could be drinking premium brew at home? I don't care how slow your connection is, I'll bet a year of my Cosmo collection that you think it just adds to the pleasure. That way you can at least kill some time before closing the deal. LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22) Venus joins Mars in Taurus, so take my advice, use the perekhods this week. Why? Because I say so. There is some other relatively important movement in Libra but I wouldn't want you to get distracted. Sleep, fuck, eat, and not necessarily in that order. You men are all the same and nobody's gonna fault you for it. SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21) If a girl in a bar asks you why your back is so hairy, you'd better discourage further conversation. Otherwise it might not stop until you look like one of those hypoallergenic cats and doctors couldn't even be bribed to give you a swimming propusk. Don't worry about her motivations, though. It's just that there is a mother in every whore. SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21) Even if I said a night at Caesar's Palace wasn't the right place to go this week, you'd disregard my advice. But what if I don't even say that? See, you're falling for the first scam they teach us at Slutsk U. Check yourself! A Gemini might throw a wrench in your plans, but you'll end up better off because of it. CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19) Don't sweat it if you feel a bit like Michael J. Fox this week. Hell, he still has the potential to make a comeback, and don't you forget it. Keep your eyes on the prize and convince yourself that going to whores says nothing about whether women find you attractive. It's a power thing. That's what I always tell clients with a low self-image! Watch out for Scorpios. AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18) You are going to finish the night at the Real McCoy multiple times this week. I'm telling you that because you won't remember on your own. It's probably better that way for all involved, just make sure you don't say anything to the coat check that might result in the documents in your coat's left pocket getting misplaced. Look but don't touch. If you do, always go for the one in the center. PISCES (Feb. 19-Mar. 20) Saturn forms its final trine to Neptune, if you catch my drift. If you can't seem to find what you want, try changing your position. Sometimes a new perspective is all it takes. More likely, you just need to spend more time making informed decisions. Not that you'd ever listen to an ignorant cum-rag like myself!

Hardline sex advice from a hardline fundamentalist, the eXile is proud to introduce the infamous one-eyed Mullah with the world's most dangerous oneeyed snake! O Mullah Omar! I am having such troubles at home. My third wife, whom we will call "Samira," does not know how to please me the way my first and fourth wives do. In the meantime, my second wife, whom we will call "Sana," is impossible to please. I believe that Sana requires at least three orgasms per evening, which she can only achieve if I give her oral pleasure. Sana prefers clitoral stimulation to penetration. I consider myself a very modern yet devout hardline fundamentalist, so it is important for me to respect my wives and see to it that they are satisfied while strictly observing the Book. My problem is that I do not have very good technique with manual clitoral stimulation--I am told that I am too rough and cannot make a circle. I do not like to give Sana oral pleasure, as my beard becomes caked in a hummus-like substance that is difficult to wash out and embarrassing when I am seen in public. What is the official approved technique for both manual and oral stimulation? And how can I explain to Samira that she is as arousing as a heap of camel dung without offending her or The Prophet? Yours, al-Exhausted O you who have clitoral problems! There is no need to worry about Sana's clitoris, which is obviously possessed by an evil spirit. You must lop it off. But be prudent, for it is written that "if you cut, do not overdo it, because it brings more radiance to the face and it is

more pleasant for the husband." If Sana makes a fuss, then you must show her who wears the turban in your hut. Resistance to a clitoral clipping on Sana's part would indicate that she is possessed by impure spirits more seriously than we first thought. In this case,

is sort of bent. I mean, if I'm popping a major chubbie, and you look at my unit, it's like curved. I mean, it kind of curves to the left around like the two-thirds way. Is this because I'm being punished or something? What does the Koran, or you, have to say about this? If I become Muslim, will my unit straighten out?

MULLAH OMAR'S SEX TIPS

strap her down on a table, take an electric cake batter mixer, put it on high setting, and mangle every flap of pink flesh you can grind. That's the only way to drive out temptation and evil from a possessed clitoris. O, just talking about this is getting me tingly! As for Samira, I believe that the best thing would be for you to send her to me for religious instruction. My one-eyed snake is blessed with teaching skills unsurpassed in the South-Central Asian region. I'm a little hard to find right now, so the best thing would be to drop Samira off in an unmarked Toyota pick-up at Ali's Kwik Kebobs in Peshawar. Just leave her there, my people will handle the rest. Tell her to dress warmly. O Mullah Omar! Okay, I'm not Muslim and stuff but I totally respect you and your religion, and I hope you answer my letter? Okay, so it's like, I think my unit al-Crooked O you who has a crooked unit! Your unit is a gift from Allah, as is every part of you--but particularly your bent unit. Women who are true believers enjoy the stimulation of a curved unit, though it is said that infidel women prefer crooked male genitalia even more. Though I do not watch such filth and blasphemy, I am told that the German hardcore porno film Decameron features a German porn star with a decidedly crooked unit, and it is said that the infidel women are fond of saying, during the most private of acts, "Das ist fantastisch, ja!" This indicates that Allah blesses he who has a curved unit. While conversion to Islam does not guarantee that your unit will straighten, martyrdom during Jihad does ensure a straight unit in the hereafter. I hope this should answer your question.

DILBERT

Dogbert, now that the boss is gone, i will finally reveal one of my biggest mysteries using the power of the internet, i'll show you why my tie bends up

oh, here's good one! a

By Scott Adams

hey, is that your weenie pressing against my hip? oo, kiddie porn! Tasty.

now watch him with two shemales and a pony. i'm so excited i don't think i can hold back! I don't think i can hold back, dogbert!

rrrhhhhhhaaaaaaaaahh, i'm cuming dogbert! i'm cuming!

sigh. this is the part where i start to get depressed and ask myself tough questions. only when my boss comes back and stresses me out will i start to feel ok again.

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TEACHER'S PET

Dear editors, I found your last lead article ["911 Things To Hate About America"] really good. It was well-written and full of interesting viewpoints. It made me think when I read it, too, and that was neat. Keep up the good work! Vsego khoroshego, Your Loyal Fan Dear Mr. Fan, The fact that you think it's neat proves that we got you thinking. Hey, that's what we're all about here. We're not trying to preach anything, we're just trying to get people to think, to open up and listen to each other more. And if we can just get one person, just one, to change his or her mind about any issue, no matter how trivial that issue may be, even if it means that they wore jeans last Tuesday rather than khakis, then we know we've done something neat for the world. Thanks for making our day.

fax to

[sic]

151-4670

e-mail: [email protected]

anthrax to sub-human conditions in tightly-guarded labs, while we allow Iraqis to run around like they own the goddamn place. The hypocrisy is astounding! What are we, shmucks on wheels?

O-PINHEAD-YON

Freezerbox: Mark Ames I believe you are obviously very closely connected to your subject. For this I fear, may take from your cause. I liked your article, though personal opinions would have been better left out. Cy Two Elk Dear Ms. Elk, Is this your personal opinion? We like your letter, but we fear including your opinion in it weakened it some.

many sluts were roaming the club, the prices, clientele, etc. and perhaps a good pussy story in between. Its a shame because the club review used to be the first section I would read but now its turned into some serious bullshit. You should start listening to your readers Mark. Serge Dear Serge, We did listen to our readers once, a way long time ago, and you know what they said? They said, "Dear eXile, If some dill-head named `Serge' ever writes you a letter trying to tell you how to run your newspaper, tell him to shove an epileptic porcupine up his ass. If you do just this one favor, we hereby promise you'll never have to listen to us, your ignorant talentless readers, ever again." We gotta listen to our readers, Serge. So get that porcupine, grease it up, and do that doo-doo that you do so well! That said, our reviewer Parker Jarvis would like to add something: "Hey, easy, Serge. You need to take a chill pill and cut out all this negative energy. It's not about exploitation and sluts, it's about positive juice and unity. Go with the flow, ppl, we'll find some connectedness. :))) Peace, Parker!"

IN SEARCH OF A LIFE

Hi everybody! I'm in search for an IT related job in Russia. Do you have one or do you know somebody who has? As I know from your book you have much of experience in that field. Thanks for helping. Martin Macke Dear Mr. Macke, We're still waiting to get pushbutton phones, and you're coming here looking for IT work? If you know how to use an abacus, you can probably find employment. Otherwise, don't even bother.

day. And for all you Serbs out there in the USA, why can't one of you, just one, quit pretending to be civilized, and instead reach deep down into your inner ethnic cleanser, look up this Nuckols jerk through a people search on the web, pull him out of his bed in the middle of the night and drive him out to a remote forest, bound and gagged, for a crash-course lesson on Serbia's special sense of humor? We promise you a Death Porn Tshirt and an eXile propeller cap if you bring us his severed ears wrapped in Dilbert comics newspaper.

A BEAUTIFUL MIND

What's all this stuff about partial birth abortions and guys who beat up drunk militiamen? And how is King of the Hill "loathsome"? Please do a story about threesomes. You only have two articles that even mention the word. Don't they have threesomes in Russia? Rodion Dear Rodion, What in God's name are you talking about, sir? Are you totally scattered in the mind? Have you had your head checked? Of course they don't have threesomes in Russia! Here, it's all about singlepartner, protected monogamous sex in the missionary position, followed by a right good felching.

THE HAXUS AND THE CUM-PIE TREE

Dear eXile editors: After being introduced to the "horsecum pie" saga of last year, I have been avidly following your recent March Madness tournament. I have been very gratified to see the nefarious Thomas L. Friedman pillaging his way through the bracket, much like American gunships used to do to Vietnamese villages. And after reading Friedman's latest diatribe in the NY Times this morning ("Suicide Lies", 3/31/2002), I am convinced that this hack should win the whole stromboli. It is his destiny, it seems. While no one in the civilized world should condone the brutal killing of Israelis in suicide bombings, Friedman's columns seem to always point to the violence of the Palestinians as the sole cause of this whole mess. And the obstuse hack refuses to understand that massing a U.S. army in the West Bank will only make things worse. I have no idea if you have a surprise planned for the winner of this contest on the level of last year's cum-fest, but please, tell me someone will spunk on this guy's face when he does the inevitable and capture's the NY Times' second straight championship. Maybe then Mr. Friedman will shave his Stalin-esque mustache and return to what he does worst - writing inane books about globalization and how the exhaust from a Lexus is good for the olive trees in the Middle East. Keep up the good work. Save some pie for me. -Paul in D.C. Dear Mr. Paul, Hey, that makes us sound kinda Indian, doesn't it. "Hello Mr. Paul, man." Anyway, what were we talking about again? Oh yeah, Friedman's equine-semencrusted mustache. You betcha we've got plans for that corrupt, butt-sucking lamprey. Our plan is top secret though; we weren't gonna tell anyone, but since you seem to be square on the same page with us when it comes to supporting literary terrorism in all its forms, we decided we'd run this one by you. This is confidential now, so let's keep it between us. Tell us whatcha think. "White Powdery Substance Pie". "`Coconut' crust so finely powdered that the granules seem to magically float up into the air!" Like it? Yeah? We knew you would, you [sic] bastard! Sadly, we're just talking smack here because until we at the eXile seize the reigns of power, we're stuck living under a reactionary regime which persecutes anthrax. This in spite of the fact that everyone knows anthrax doesn't kill, only Iraqis kill. And yet in spite of this, we confine

A PASSAGE TO WHOREDIA

haiii exile i've been desperately searching for russian in india and am have been highly unsucessful.i am a male from india (chennai) pls can u provide me information of russian prostitutes in india espeacially in chennai tamil nadu. pls do give me their phone nos /adds etc. would be of great help john Dear John, There are 1 billion people in India, about 600 million of whom survive by gnawing on the skin on their own knuckles and drinking their own urine. You're telling us you can't get laid? If it's Russian girls you're looking for, we're gonna let you in on a little secret. Is everyone out of your room, John? Cuz people pay good money for the info we're gonna tell you. Here goes. Russians live in a place called "Russia". Seriously. Russia is a huge, huge country, full of all these coincidentally-named "Russians", and a little more than half of them are women. Seriously, they're all over the place here! So here's our nutty advice. Whyn'tchoo go to Russia! There are whores on every street corner. As for Russian whores in Chennai, we're befuddled. We know there are Uighur whores and Tuvan whores in Chennai, but not sure about the Russian ones, not the last time we checked. And believe us, we check often.

RETURN OF THE NUCKOLSHEAD

Well, it's the third anniversary. You guys were right, I must reluctantly admit. Kids from the Bronx coming back in body bags from Pristina, Serb partisans fighting with resolute bravery to defend the sacred sovereignty of Yugoslavia, the countries surrounding Kosovo sucked into the broader Fourth Balkan war, a dangerous new Cold War, assasinations of American tourists from Athens to Vladivostok revenging precious Serb blood. Yep, you guys hit the nail on the head on almost every point. Personally, I think Serbia has had enough of this kind of romantic bullshit. As between Vojislav Seselj and Zoran Djindjic, the latter may seem less exciting and noble blahblahblah but for ordinary Belgrade residents, better to follow the Slovenes and Croats into Europe than to indulge in indigenous fascism in the name of Kosovske Polje. Mark Nuckols Dear Mr. Nuckols, You're still pissed off at what we wrote 3 years ago? Hot damn, we really are talented assholes! You poor sap! Have you been on steady doses of Maalox ever since you first started reading us? Anyway, thanks for making our

TURBO-GEEK

"It's stressful enough for an aging white sex tourist to worry about being made an example of by the pedophile police, photo and name splashed all over The International Herald Tribune following another bogus crackdown on sex slavery that Southeast Asian countries are intermittently obliged to carry out to pacify the turbo-dykes in Geneva" This is possibly the funniest thing ever written by the exile. I'm gonna be sitting in class today and giggling for hours just because of the words "turbo-dykes". Konrad Dear Konrad, Uh-huh-huh. He said "turbo dykes". Uh-huh-huh. Uh-huh-huh. Uh-huh. Turbo... uh-huh-huh. Dykes. Uh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh. Turbo-dykes. Uh-huh-huh-huhhuh-huh-huh-huh-huh!

SPURMIER

While I agree with 90% of this list, I must take exception to Steve Spurrier and the State of Florida winning honors. Outside of us UF alums, Spurrier is one of the most hated men in football, maybe the MOST hated. And in the south, he is one of the most hated men in general. This alone is reason enough to admire him, anyone who goes out of his way to be so thouroughly despised surely deserves Exile's respect. And while the state of florida may not be the LEAST odious state in the union, it certainly is not the MOST odious either, this honor simply MUST fall to maryland. Dave FL Dear Dave, Southerners also hate Harper Lee and Andrea Dworkin, but that doesn't mean we'll start respecting them or forcing our girlfriends to grow out their armpit hair. The continued existence of Steve Spurrier and Florida have forced us to seriously consider taking flight lessons.

PLEASE LISTEN

Whats up Mark, I had been talking with Matt a week or so back and wrote a brief club review for you to check out. I must say, after reading the "new" reviewer, I (and every expat/reader of your paper I know) was very dissapointed. I'm not saying my review was the shit, it may not have been. But I believe that my vantage is what your readers want to hear. I realize that you want something different from Higgins but Jarvis' xed out raver was really pathetic. Think about it, how many expats are living or care about this lifestyle here in Moscow. I couldn't even finish reading this trash and I really wanted to find out something, anything aabout Caesars. We want to her about how

GAY HIPPIE

Dear John, I laughed so much throughout my reading of your article published in the eXile (online). Good work! A big hug, Elias Dear Elias, Save the hugs for your peer counseling group. If you want to show your affection for Dr. Dolan, leave a ki of scag on his front porch, with a sack full of slave photos to boot. And leave before he answers the door. He'll forever be grateful, and so will we.

The eXile is seeking a part-time FLUFFER to fluff the editorial staff during production night. Make money and get in shape at the same time! If you are a young female and: Have at least one fully-functioning arm, with hand attached Are capable of gripping cucumber-like objects firmly Can maintain a rapid pumping motion for several minutes Have never suffered from tennis elbow or repetitive motion disorder Then YOU may qualify! Call the eXile at 795-7736 or send an email to [email protected] to set up your interview.

FEELIN' FLUFFY?

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DEATH PORN

cries for help ignored "investigation continuing"

DEATH PORN LEGEND

low-yield murder

"control shot"

getting killed. The murderers, not content with the salary promised them upon completion of their task, also stole the keys to Aleksandr's car and his mobile phone. The militsia doesn't have any leads. However, it never even occurred to the investigators that the motive might be simple robbery. Aleksandr was self-employed in the oil business.

podyezd

carved up like a Turkey

really stupid criminal

killing "connected with professional activities of victim"

STAT PORN

"A bush in the hand is worth a bird with two bushes"

cannibalism

riddled with bullets

children

old people

TY NE ODIN

On the evening March 26, Andrei Umnyagin got a call from one of his closest friends. But

Hunger-related crime

murder-suicide

rather pedestrian Walden was selected to illustrate a point about what a man should or should not demand to find his inspiration. Perhaps Umnyagin's surviving 9year-old daughter and ex-wife can take comfort in that knowledge. And they can breath deeply, assured that he got laid within 24 hours of his demise.

DEJA VU

One of first things an American learns when he gets his learner's permit at age 16 (give or take a year, depending on the state) is that most accidents happen within five miles of home. It's not a particularly shocking fact--most driving happens within five miles of home--but any Drivers' Ed teacher worth his Rogaine-induced migraines knows that the mundane saves lives. Nobody has ever compiled comparable stats for murders, but rest assured that statistically you are much less likely to be killed if you stay out of a five radius around your home. That advice comes a bit too late for Margarita Melnikova, who got taken out while only steps away from her apartment building on Gvardeiskaya ul. On March 22, she arrived in her parking garage around 10.30 in the evening with a Land Rover full of groceries. Somewhere along her way from the car to her building next door, an assassin shot her twice in the head and once in the shoulder. It didn't take the militsia long to find the corpse, owning to the fact that the station was "two steps" away from the murder scene, according to Moskovsky Komsomolets. They were out so quickly that they found the pistol with a silencer still warm. What makes this case so exceptional is that Margarita, 42, had a prior warning of sorts. Almost a year ago to the day (March 14, to be exact), her husband was gunned down in pretty much the same way in the same place. Vladimir Kotikov was the boss at Stroivyeks, a construction company that he had founded after losing his job at Tesko, which also dabbled in the building arts. Vlad's murder was never solved, although most theories fielded by the militsia assumed Tesko was somehow implicated. It was rumored but never substantiated that Tesko fired Vlad after uncovering that he had been

THE UNPROFESSIO NALS

One of the problems with the limited abilities of Moscow's militsia to close cases is that it encourages the use of poorly trained and incompetent hitmen. The Western world's superior detectives and severe sentencing inhibits crime by driving up the cost of error. Hired killers who do a sloppy job in, say, London are likely going to get caught and confessing the name of their employer to lighten their own sentence. Consequently, the cost of farming out murder grows exponentially and, as most people above a certain standard of living do not enjoy doing the dirty work themselves, the murder rate falls. In Russia, however, even two-bit trigger happy thugs can botch a job one day, finish it off the next, brag about it the third and still get off Scottfree. How, though, can the authorities expect to clean up their act? They are underfunded as is and, without more men earning decent salaries, they can't hope to ever put a dent in crime. But, so long as criminals run amok, the state will never collect the revenue it needs to operate a functional police force. Which brings us to the following extremely sloppy unsolved killing. 35year-old Aleksandr Shagalov failed to call his parents, as was custom, on March 29. The next day, his parents stopped by to see if everything was alright (Aleksandr's wife and daughter were vacationing in the Alps that week). They found their only son wrapped up in tape, cuffed, choked with a towel and dead. According to Moskovsky Komsomolets, he died either from having his throat cut or from strangulation by the cords left around his neck. Apparently, he was tortured rather clumsily for some time before

As much as we try to give you, our respected reader, a complete picture of what happens to a country when it puts a moratorium on the death penalty, we just can't find enough space to cover every murder in the capital. Every time we write about a family of victims that ended up on the wrong end of a drunken neighbor's axe, four cloven families remain anonymous. You read about one contract killing, but what about the ten other biznesmeni who were gunned down that week? We don't even bother reporting serial killers anymore for fear that we might be accused of trying to emulate The Moscow Times. We may never be able to tell you every time a drug-addled prostitute is found outside a podyezd with substantial chunks of flesh missing from her abdomen and a finger or two missing. But at least we can tell you how many murders happened in the last two weeks and how they compare to previous weeks. That's right, we're introducing Moscow's first murder-o-meter and will update it for as long as they plan on keeping count! At no extra cost, we're including rapes. Don't despair at the low numbers of rapes recorded surveys have repeatedly told us that

35 30 25 20 15 10 5 0

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skimming off the top. Vlad wasn't unprepared, however, and stole several Tesko clients to build up his own business. Which is why he got whacked, allegedly. But none of this helps to clarify why someone would put a contract out on Margarita. Especially because that someone was apparently the same person who ordered her husband shot. The militsia have pretty much admitted to being stumped on this one and resigned themselves to collecting forensic evidence, including finding the VAZ-2106 the killer likely hid behind before waxing Margarita. As far as anyone knew, Margarita washed her hands of any business responsibilities after the death of her husband. Even her friends assumed she was just living off of whatever cash was left under the mattress at the time of Vlad's death. Hopefully there'll be plenty of that to tide her 11-year-old orphan over until he is old enough to realize that even the elite building he lives is too close to home to be considered safe. His mom is more than enough reason to roundly reject the lightning-never-strikes-thrice philosophy.

Umnyagin told his friend that he was entertaining a lady friend and promised to call back later. That Friday, three days after anyone would admit to talking to the 34-year-old commercial director, the same friend turned up at Umnyagin's apartment on ul. Novatorov with a spare set of keys. Umnyagin hadn't been answering the phone because he had been shot twice in the chest at close range. He was found lying in the hallway, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. Forensics places the killing on Wednesday and, as there were no signs of forced entry or struggle, it looks to be a simple case of bad business decisions. Umnyagin's company made furniture. This case on the whole is about as banal as they come in Moskovsky Komsomolets. But therein lies the beauty of it. When getting caught up in the hubbub surrounding a big case, it's easy to forget that Thoreau didn't require anything more than a humble cabin on a lake that really isn't much to look at. Objectively, there are much more attractive areas in what is now Greater Boston where a man might have pursued his muse. Certainly the

04.03 - 17.03 18.03 - 31.03 -- Murders -- Rapes there's a silent majority of victims.

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Publisher: Konstantin Boukarev Editors-in-Chief: Herman Edwards ([email protected])

Matt Taibbi ([email protected]) Art Director: Ilya Shangin (ilyaexile.ru) Drug Tsar: Krazy Kevin McElwee ([email protected]) Sex Machine: Jake Rudnitsky ([email protected])

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Contributors: Edward Limonov, Lionel Tannenbaum ([email protected]), Dan Higgins ([email protected]) Technical Support: Mikhail Boyarsky Prepared By: Ne Spat'! Printed by Moskovskaya Pravda

Circulation: 25,000 MRY RosCom Printers: #A1033: 28/2/97 @ all writes reserved Tel.: 795-3376 Fax: 245-1415 éÚÔÂ~ÚÌÓ , ÚËÔÓ,,ÙËË Éìè àèä "åÓÒÍÓ,ÒÍfl è,"

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