I remember a movie about a boy who found out he had a gift. Although at first he thought it was a curse. Sitting on the bus or in a store, he could clearly see the underside of ordinary passers-by — a witch, a vampire, and other evildoers. Besides being frightened, the boy thought he was going crazy, because no one else noticed the creatures swarming everywhere. Then he learned to control himself and even make the most of his gift.
Real life is worse than any movie. The scale of the atrocities of a “typical” folkloric werewolf is dozens, maybe hundreds of innocent souls, for he attacks selectively, individually, and at special times. And the bloodthirstiness of the Russian ghoul has no bottom at all. Those who have a conscience have a limit. For the Ghoul, “it sank” in 2000, which he admitted with a smirk. The villains of fairy tales are no match for the Russian ghoul. He seems to dream of surpassing Stalin and Mao by keeping an imperial count of tens and hundreds of thousands of lives, even millions, if he is allowed to. His omnivorousness is remarkable — if no one else is available, he devours his own people, for that is his ghoul nature.
That is not to say that no one can see the essence behind his lean shell, his brash rhetoric, and his insinuating manner. But many intelligent people, including leaders of Western powers, either naively failed to notice the alarming signals, or fell in love with the PR image of the male hamadryl, or in horror tried to satisfy his boundless hunger with small offerings.
In 1856 Abraham Lincoln said: “You can fool all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time.” Truth is not a submarine; eventually, it comes to the surface. This year the world saw the Russian ghoul for what he is — with his ice-cold eyes, skewed jaws, and skull bursting with hatred for life in general. Whether the world community has had enough of the revelation to sober up is the question. Today one hears calls to “save face” (to whom?!) to the beast. One has to believe, if not in people’s sanity, then at least in their instinct for self-preservation.