[Editor: submitted by a friend. Gladsnost and Politstroika values comradely Cordialness, and is not afraid of Political (up)Standing. Thus, his opposition article has here been published, true to our policies' aims and sentiments.]
On the cold and bleak night, I sit here at the stead of it. I am unsure what to do, what to write, what to say, what to think— of it all. Comrades come triumphantly forward, and kill this traitor, this fool who stabs the truth for the untruth, the way for the wash. End them all we must...
Tear down your idiotic banners of 'Gladsnost' and 'Politstroika', you who believe in naught, and wish to bury the glory of the proletarian movement. You should have us broken in deep hurt, immobilised with despair. Yes, I know you, and your plot. Long have you struck at me, crushing my morale. I know you and your tricks.
This rain is not of cleansing; it is a rain of sorrow. Wines of wrath taste better than the bitter vinegars of rout and ruin. You know this as well as I. What were these slogans for if not to assuage the senses of those who did not join our rebels in the van. The disgrunting at our vanguard of grenadiers can be heard on all sides, what is it that we do?
She wants a compliant übermensch, that is not you. 'Not you, not you, not you' is what is said when together see you two. The rebel goes to the mountain to allay his doom. What are you doing mate? Sitting on this peak in decline by wait? 'No, no such, leave me alone' says our broken comrade on the peak. For the thought to go on, is a rebellious thing, against state, society, and party. The mass does not accept the gifts of a wolf, however red his pelt. This comrade you would not have ignorant (is he!).
Put down your banners, and speak bluntly your purpose. How can your Gladsnost and Politstroika help the rebel in revolt? Curse you intellectuals; may Comrade Stalin take you all! The proletariat under the blazing Red banner, the banner of '71-'17, that is the banner of socialists, that is the banner of communism, Lenin's banner. Close the door out to reform, and come to the revolution's fire. It is warmer here, and you never know where an enemy is sitting to slice your throat without. The party of the party, the one true party in the parties of the party, is the enclosed cabin wherein you belong. The reformists say they bring a new fire, when all they have is freezing wind. Understand this well, and oppose the deathly wind of Gladsnost and Politstroika.
— A Disconcerned Communist.
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