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Kindergarten is for chumps
Edward & Edward Jr. inspect Soviet aircraft
“Tomorrow we’re going to the Central Air Force Museum,” I told Edward Junior as I tucked him into bed on Tuesday evening.
“But Papa, what about kindergarten?”
“Listen to me very carefully, Edward Junior: kindergarten is a scam.”
Yesterday your attentive Moscow correspondent was typing an article about Russia’s completely predictable participation in the UN’s Summit on Sustainable Development Goals, but then it suddenly occurred to him: Does anyone actually want to read another article about space lizards and SDGs? Highly doubtful.
Here is a short photo essay about airplanes instead.
Edward Junior and I arrived at the Central Air Force Museum at around 11 am, where we were greeted with a visual cocktail of Great Patriotic War/Z iconography.
But inside the museum everything was much more serene.
The museum also featured this very instructive diorama:
Let’s get a zoom-in on that railway wagon.
There was also Multipolar Merch….
…and even some artifacts from the Unipolar World Order.
“I am an American and I don’t speak Russian. I need food, shelter, and help. I won’t hurt you and I have no ill intentions against your people. If you help me, my government will reward you,” reads an abridged version of How To Win Friends and Influence People issued to US pilots during the Korean War.
There were more planes lounging outside.
Edward Junior requested an electronic device so that he could document for posterity all the flying contraptions around us. I gave him my phone that I never use (I only use my beloved Pad). This devious 6-year-old then proceeded to harass your correspondent with endless photographs, like some kind of gnome-paparazzo.
I reciprocated by aiming my Pad’s camera at his subordinate face—a tit-for-tat measure, to use the proper geopolitical lingo—resulting in a taking-photos-of-each-other-taking-photos-of-each-other photo-race, ultimately ending in Mutually Assured Embarrassing Photo-Destruction.
Your correspondent’s favorite aircraft was the Mi-10 helicopter-crane, a jolly metal grasshopper that can haul up to 15 tons:
Just look at this amiable helicopter-crane. The kind of helicopter-crane you’d have a beer with, to borrow the popular phrase used to describe cocaine addict George W. Bush.
There was also this thing:
And these things:
While frolicking in the field of planes, your correspondent and his son witnessed this:
After about an hour we decided to go home and play Minecraft.
In the museum’s parking lot we crossed paths with an elderly gentleman on a motorized scooter who was blasting Fleetwood Mac from an ancient cassette player.
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