“Alarm clocking” the Russian bitch

Wow, so when I watched this CNN/Reuters video report about an “art exhibit” at the Ukraine National Art Museum, all my illusions about virile, masculine, Alpha Russian men took an awkward dive. Seriously, in this blogosector, Russian men are portrayed as the unadulterated no-holds-barred male specimens of the modern world. Whenever someone (usually a liberal chick) talks about how “manly” and “Alpha” Barack Obama is, an opposing crescendo rises mocking the ludicrous supposition. Everyone just knows the penultimate representation of a national Alpha-leader on today’s global stage is Vladimir Putin. There is no question about it. This is an outgrowth of the popular imagery of Russian men as the embodiment of masculinity. Perhaps it is so. But from judging the men that visit the Ukraine interactive art exhibit which features a succession of 5 pretty models who play the live role of “Sleeping Beauty” by laying beautifully on a bed for 3 days while a parade of men kiss them (while their eyes are closed in keeping with the legend), the state of Russian masculinity is not quite what it’s trumped up to be. All male participants must sign a “contract” before they kiss the model. It states that if she opens her eyes, he must marry her. And thus begins the foolishness.

One of the participants, Anton Markov, who incidentally reminds me of Mikhail Baryshnikov with a mousy mustache, stood moments before the exhibit model before walking away like a frightened boy without a kiss. He later explained to the camera, “I wanted to feel her [the model] with my heart, but I just didn’t feel it…” OK, Anton dude. When it comes to joining your lips, or any other physical appendage, with a girl, your heart must be kept as far from the scene of the crime as possible. Don’t listen to your heart. Your heart is the buzzkill. Your heart doesn’t care about pleasure or sex. It cares about itself, not the rest of your physical experience. Your heart is very self-absorbed and short-sighted. Your heart does not have your satisfaction in mind. If the opportunity to invade a girl’s pleasure space is in proximity, you must lock that heart up well until you are done. Once you have concluded your dastardly deed, you can let it out again. It might be angry and resentful that you did not consult with it. Too bad. Anton, you acted like a woman in the face of a certain artificial kiss. You thought too much. Don’t effin think, ever. Thinking is the weak man’s escape. I’d hate to see how Anton acts when he actually has to earn a kiss. Every first kiss I had was of my own accord. I never asked, I never consulted: I just did. And never got slapped.

And then the next Russian pansy waltzes up in a blue blazer and pink shirt and a strange page boy hairstyle. Wait, what the hell is this? A Russian hipster or a Russian Austin Powers? Oh my tired head. At least he had the balls to kiss the girl, but that is about all the credit I can summon for him. What kind of kiss was that? He bowed more daintily and meekly than Barack Obama, and his “peck” literally lasted 2.8 seconds and appeared to be all lip. There wasn’t a Siberian snowball’s chance in hell this Sleeping Beauty would rouse from her sleep for that.

Strike two for the Russian men. Hmm. Maybe the sample here is biased because the majority of male art museum patrons are decidedly not the “he-man” type, but still. Some of the greatest rakes of all time have been artistes.

I noted sadly that there was security presence which might have repulsed my initial plan. I thought it would be cool to sign up, lean in and give the model some nice, wicked tongue while simultaneously lifting her gown and engaging in some concurrent invasive genital “alarm clocking.”

Open your eyes now, bitch!