In 2014, Igor Girkin crossed into Ukraine with 52 men and pulled the trigger on a continental war, convinced he was the reincarnation of a White Guard general destined to resurrect the Russian Empire. Twelve years later, he is sitting in a penal colony in the Kirov region, working as a pattern-chalker on prison textiles while the state feeds his followers into a robotic meatgrinder.
This is a massive, definitive autopsy of the "Assembled Man." I dissect the absolute geopolitical counterfeit of the Novorossiya LARP, contrast Girkin’s pathetic bureaucratic demise with Prigozhin’s warlord exit, and listen in on the terminal despair of his remaining allies as the Russian ultra-nationalist movement collapses into web-rings and bad poetry.
There's also YuGiOh trading card analogies involved.
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