Little Volodya, your doom is upon you.
Hear me, Vladimir Vladimirovich!
And hear me also, you sedulous, credulous bastard bootlicker and bumboy to Putin, Alyaksandr Ryhoravich Lukashenka!
May all free peoples hear me: not only in Ukraine and in the world, but those in Russia who groan beneath your more than Mongol yoke, and who love liberty!
My 9th cousin 7 times removed, Thomas Jefferson, wrote these words of an eternal and pre-existing truth:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.
This truth is so for all peoples and nations.
I am an American. For four centuries my people have dwelt in this land, coming here before the United States—which we helped create—existed. We came here from England and Scotland and the Isles, from Cornwall and Ireland and Wales, our ancient home before Rome crossed the Channel.
And for that very reason, I denounce you, Vladimir Vladimirovich and Alyaksandr Ryhoravich, as one whose forefathers were of the Rus’ and were Rurikids through many lines. For the Rus’ lands were never what in your fevered dreams they are, a fortress—and, you would and wish, a universal jail of which you and creatures such as you are the wardens and governors—; never were they cut off from the West. The lineage of the House of Rurik passed into Capet and Plantagent, into Lumley and Lancaster, Sutton of Dudley and Talbot, Stanley and Dudley and Sutton and Tyrwhitt, Lindsay and Wemyss and Shaw: my ancestors.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, your rule is illegitimate: and you shall fail and fall.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are no soldier and no commander, and never were: merely a Chekist thug, a silovik of low, animal cunning.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, your sins have sent you mad and lost you your cunning: as mad as Ivan IV Grozny my 8th cousin 17 times removed by common descent of the House of Árpád.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are no prince of the world, nor of peace; you are a corrupted minor follower of the Prince of Lies, who claims to be Prince of This World and of the air: a usurper and a pretender like yourself.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are an incessant, a pointless, an implausible, a transparent, and a pathological liar: and you are exposed now by your own folly and stand revealed as what you are.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you inadvertently told a partial truth recently—no doubt in mere absence of mind. But Ukraine is not the inferior of Russia, though related: Kyiv is the father, Ukraine, the mother, of the Rus’.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are therefore a parricide, and a matricide, as you have long been a fratricide.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are a murderer, and a cowardly one, much given to assassination from afar and the coward’s weapon of poison. In your base, vile, contemptible, and unlawful aggressions, you hang back from danger and the front, and hide yourself behind guards, fearing as tyrants ever fear physical danger. Your blood-boltered hands are imbrued with fraternal and innocent blood to the elbows—yet too weak and too palsied by cowardice to take up a weapon of your own.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are no son of the Church, go through the motions as you may. You are an unbeliever, as pagan a despot as was Batu Khan.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are as utterly nekulturny, as you are as tyrannical, as was ever Berke Khan.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are no leader, no statesman, no president; you are merely a thief-in-law, presiding over the Bratva you pretend is a government, bereft as it is both of dignity and of legitimacy.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are no imperial figure: merely a petty despot on the make. Russia was never the Third Rome, however Zosimus the Bearded and Philotheus of Pskov truckled—as Russian Orthodoxy too often truckles to temporal tyrants: as Kirill does this very day even as the Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I of Constantinople, Patriarch Daniel of Romania, and Metropolitan Onufriy of Kyiv condemn you, Vladimir Vladimirovich—to the flattered pretensions of Ivan III the Great Vasilievich of Moscow, my 8th cousin 18 times removed. Ivan III at least was a kingly figure and a prince; but he nor you, little Volodya, deserve to claim heirship of such figures as my 27th great-grandfather Alexios III, Byzantine Emperor; my 29th great-grandfather John II the Good, Emperor; my 30th great-grandfather Alexios I, Emperor; my 31st great-grandfather Romanos IV Diogenes, Emperor; my 24th great-uncle Andronikos II Palaiologos, Emperor; my 31st great-uncle Isaac I Komnenos, Emperor; my 32nd great-grandfather the Co-Emperor Andronikos Doukas; my 32nd great-uncle Constantine X, Emperor; my 33rd great-grandfather Romanos II, Emperor; my 33rd great-grandfather Leo VI “The Wise,” Emperor; my 35th great-grandfather Romanos I Lekapenos, Emperor; my 42nd great-grandfather Nikephoros I Logothetes, Emperor; or my second cousin 26 times removed, the Emperor Michael VIII, and my first cousin 32 times removed the Emperor Michael VII Doukas. May they denounce you beside me. May they pray, with me, for your swift destruction!
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are an open and notorious adulterer, ephebophile, and rapist; now you are engaged in the Rape of Ukraine, your warped version of Russia set by you to raping the mother of Kievan Rus’.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are no “de-Nazifier;” you are the spiritual son of Adolf Hitler, engaged in his sort of lies, his sort of aggression, and against a neighboring nation led by a man of Jewish descent whom you dare to label as a Nazi.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are more a barbarian and no less treacherous than was your fellow womanly poisoner Töregene Khatun.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, for all your pretended piety you are further from God than ever were Igor “the Old,” the Rurikid ruler of Kievan Rus’, my 32nd great-grandfather, and Sviatoslav I Igorevich “the Brave,” my 30th great-grandfather.
And, Vladimir Vladimirovich, little petty Volodya, you are mortal. You are mortal. Soon enough—God speed the day!—you like all men shall die; worms shall eat your flesh as your sins have eaten away at your soul and their maggots have riddled your brain and your judgement; and the shriveled husk of your soul shall go to the abyss prepared for all servants of Satan: tyrants, despots, terrorists, sons by adoption of the Father of Lies.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, the forces you are too great a coward, and too incompetent a commander, to lead in the field, may—may—triumph, for an hour, a day, a petty period of mortal time. But neither they nor you shall or can long prevail. All you have done is to solidify against you the Ukrainian people. All you have done is to unmask yourself. All you have done is to dispel the fog that every weak leader in the West and in the lands of the free peoples has been blinded by for decades.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you shall leave no great name behind. Nothing of your work shall long survive you. Your memory shall be damned in all lands, and in Russia not least. You shall be as accursed as ever was Sviatopolk the Accursed, my 29th great-uncle.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, when you die—and soon—it shall be a day of rejoicing to all free peoples, to patriotic Ukrainians and to liberty-loving Russians alike; and if you fall, as well you may, at the hand of an assassin, or by a bullet in the back of the head in the cellars of the Lubyanka, or in a noose, or in a popular revolt, it shall be a justified and glorious tyrannicide.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, I abjure you.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, I denounce you.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, I condemn you to the Pit with those demons you serve, who have made their home in you.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are hostis humani generis.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are outlaw.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you have destroyed the only legal title upon which your existence depended, and deprived yourself of the protection of the law.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you have placed yourself outwith the pale of civil and social relations, and, as an enemy and disturber of the peace of the world, have rendered yourself liable to public vengeance.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are a disgrace to Russia, whom the great leaders of its past should despise and whom its people disdain.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you cannot, ultimately, win. Your doom is at hand, and your Belarusian jackal’s with you. Your own lackeys, if they have any sense of self-preservation, shall turn upon you. Your long-suffering nation whom you have oppressed thirsts for your blood. Your sins have found you out, and the vengeance of God is nigh to you.
May it be soon.
May Saint Olga of Kyiv, Equal of the Apostles, my 32nd great-grandmother, condemn you and pray for your swift death and judgement.
May Yuri I Dolgorukiy Vladimirovich my 30th great-grandfather condemn you and pray for your sudden death and judgement.
May the Grand Prince of Kyiv Sviatopolk II Iziaslavich my 30th great-grandfather condemn you and pray for your imminent death and judgement.
May Saint Vladimir I the Great Svyatoslavich, Equal of the Apostles, my 29th great-grandfather, condemn you and pray for your immediate death and judgement.
May Gytha of Wessex, Harold’s daughter, my 29th great-grandmother, and Vladimir II Monomakh my 29th great-grandfather, condemn you and pray for your prompt death and judgement.
May Mstislav I the Great Vladimirovich Monomakh, Grand Prince of Kyiv my 28th great-grandfather condemn you and pray for your sudden death and judgement.
May Saint Yaroslav the Wise my 28th great-grandfather condemn you and pray for your imminent death and judgement.
May Anna Yaroslavna of Kyiv, Queen Consort of the Franks, my 27th great-grandmother, condemn you and pray for your immediate death and judgement.
May Mstislav Rostislavich the Brave, Prince of Novgorod, my 27th great-grandfather, condemn you and pray for your prompt death and judgement.
May Mstislav the Daring, Prince of Suzdal, my 26th great-grandfather, condemn you and pray for your sudden death and judgement.
May Yaroslav II Vsevolodovich of Vladimir my 26th great-uncle condemn you and pray for your immediate death and judgement.
May Mstislav the Brave Vladimirovich, Prince of Chernigov, my 29th great-uncle, condemn you and pray for your immediate death and judgement.
May Yaropolk I of Kyiv my 30th great-uncle, condemn you and pray for your prompt death and judgement.
May my second cousin 24 times removed Saint Alexander Yaroslavich Nevsky condemn you and pray for your imminent death and judgement.
May my third cousin 23 times removed Saint Mikhail Yaroslavich, Prince of Tver, condemn you and pray for your prompt death and judgement.
May my third cousin 26 times removed Vasili Konstantinovich, Prince of Rostov, condemn you and pray for your imminent death and judgement.
May my fifth cousin 23 times removed Saint Michael Vsevolodovich, Martyr, Prince of Chernigov, condemn you and pray for your sudden death and judgement.
May my 7th cousin 19 times removed Boris Aleksandrovich, Prince of Tver. condemn you and pray for your immediate death and judgement.
May my 8th cousin 18 times removed Ivan III the Great Vasilievich of Moscow, Tsar, condemn you and pray for your prompt death and judgement.
May my 9th cousin 16 times removed Saint Fyodor I Ivanovich the Blessed, Tsar, condemn you and pray for your sudden death and judgement.
May my 19th cousin 11 times removed Saint Fyodor Fyodorovich Ushakov, Admiral, condemn you and pray for your prompt death and judgement.
Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are condemned; reproved; doomed; and damned. May your people know it, and look well to themselves and their interest.
My connexion John Stuart Mill wrote truly that,
War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things: the decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks nothing worth a war, is worse. When a people are used as mere human instruments for firing cannon or thrusting bayonets, in the service and for the selfish purposes of a master, such war degrades a people. A war to protect other human beings against tyrannical injustice; a war to give victory to their own ideas of right and good, and which is their own war, carried on for an honest purpose by their free choice,—is often the means of their regeneration. A man who has nothing which he is willing to fight for, nothing which he cares more about than he does about his personal safety, is a miserable creature who has no chance of being free, unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself. As long as justice and injustice have not terminated their ever-renewing fight for ascendancy in the affairs of mankind, human beings must be willing, when need is, to do battle for the one against the other.
Ukraine: stand fast! Russia, rise up against the despot! And God defend Liberty.