My dearest Titus,
I know you are just a young boy but I will tell you a tale of my life which will hopefully show you the faults of putting your trust in a authoritarian leaders such as Donald trump. There has been one aspect of my life I haven’t been completely honest about. There is one other human that I have had a deep relationship in my lifetime other than Henry. I knew a man that I wholeheartedly supported despite his brashness and his use of violence and it is my former comrade Joseph Stalin. I am aware of the controversy that shrouds the man, which is why I left it out of my previous blog entry, but hear out my story. I spent most of the 19th century in a small hamlet outside of Petrograd. While it was a quiet life in which I subsisted on turnips and embraced the rigid wrath of the Russia winters, I witnessed the unending plight of the Russian peasant. The regular starvation they accepted and unjust exploitation of the aristocratic class began to radicalize me, my disdain for the Romanovs and the system that upheld such injustice grew. I will never forget the day of the October Revolution as I was in the great city of Petrograd. As starvation grew in the city I took up in my hot air balloon and brought what little bread I had to distribute to the children of the city. When I arrived, there was great upheaval and I heard of news that the complacent provisional government, that merely upheld the oppression of the Tsar was overthrown and replaced by a group that promised a government of the people for the people. Of this new government there was one remarkable individual whom I was drawn to. A young Georgian man who was a gifted bureaucrat and whose revolutionary zeal to this day still astonishes me. I watched him with great interest as he rose through the ranks of the party. His cunning yet subtle nature allowed him to grab power for himself. If there was one man who can transform this agrarian impoverished country into a paradise for the proletariat and liberate the world from the chains of capital, it was young Joseph. Despite my shyness, I decided I needed to offer my services as I believed my wisdom of many years of watching human civilization could aid the eager dictator in forging the Soviet Union into a self-sufficient state. I sneakily hid in one his boots as a servant brought them into his private quarters. I peaked out of his boot and saw the mustached man reading a stack of papers by candlelight. I timidly approached him and he looked down curiously at me in a gaze that I will never forget. His curiosity as to why a small elderly man with an extravagant hat somehow made it past the guards seemed to outweigh his shock. I sheepishly told him my story and as I talked he seemed to become more relaxed. I described to him my dedication for the cause that he pursued and promised him my upmost loyalty. He stood up suddenly, which sent a deep sense of fear in me. Was I mistaken to interfere in human matters? Would my unusual act of boldness lead to my demise? His next move immediately brought me at ease, he reached out his imposing arm and shook my hand and welcomed me to the party. For the next three years I diligently helped Stalin and became his most trusted confidante. I urged him to be more gentle in his approach and tried to bring out the warm man that I knew was beneath his cold exterior. However, what happened next still saddens me. You probably heard of Stalin’s infamous purges and unfortunately, I too was a victim. On a cold December morning two armed guard picked up the shoebox in which I presided in, and shook me out. Myself and my hat fell out of my home and I looked up to the two guards who looked sternly down at me. They announced that I was under arrest for the crimes of treason, which I thought must be a cruel joke. I told them it must be a mistake and questioned who this ludicrous claim come from and they informed me it came from Stalin himself. When they said his name a sharp pain of sadness struck my heart, how could the man that I spent countless nights in his quarters discussing literature and politics do this to me? My instincts kicked in and despite my old age my speed is extraordinary. I scrambled away from the guards who clumsily tried to capture me. I somehow escaped outside to where my hot air balloon was stationed. I quickly started the flame and flew away as I evaded rifle fire from the guards. That hot air balloon trip was the loneliest I’ve ever felt in my life, I began to cry deeply as I traversed the snowy skies. I swore to never again interact with humans again and a deep sense of regret filled my stomach. I still will always remember Stalin as the sensitive man who would let me sit on his desk as I drank morning tea. It was heartbreaking to see what absolute power did to him, it made him paranoid and cruel. These authoritarian men will eventually turn to untold violence. Do not put your faith in Donald Trump like I did with Stalin. Your view on war with Iran is naive, after all my years living among the humans, I’ve seen countless times the sorrow and pain that war has brought. I’ve witnessed children left without fathers, women and children alike being slain, and lives permanently ruined by the touch of war. Your leaders will convince you to accept things your conscience knows is wrong. The amount of times I let my loyalty to the Soviet Union cloud my moral compass still brings me sorrow.
TheyearofthePodrick 