The Russian Ambassador

The Russian Ambassador is beginning to sound like one of those visiting romantic military men out of Chekhov (who bring a touch of glamour to the provinces) or even the character of Chance rendered by Peter Sellers in Hal Ashby’s adaptation of Jerzy Kosinski’s Being There. There's something almost magical about him. He’s the eminence gris the lord of misrule, the tabula rasa upon whom one paints ones fears and dreams. Sergey Kislyak is his name and he’s at once a portly and sphinx like figure whose double chin resembles that of Roger Ailes and who looks like he enjoys caviar and vodka along with his Chicken Kiev. But try this theory on for size. Maybe the Kremlin’s motivations are even more complex than is being thought. Let’s entertain the notion that Putin and company realized Hillary was going to be the loser, just like David Cameron fell with Brexit. Trump was a shoe in. He didn’t need the Russians. Sergei was used as candy to catalyze a series of faux pas. It wouldn’t be what Flynn, Kushner, or Sessions did that was so wrong. It would be their denial and the allegations of perjury that would follow. Hillary Clinton was not going to be lured by a Russian prostitute, but Trump was a good mark and Sergey was like a beautiful Slavic girl who was willing to do anything. The result, a new administration in tatters, along with NATO and the Russians afforded an open playing field in which to march into the Ukraine and Baltics, on their way to regaining the vision, not simply of the U.S.S.R. but of Peter the Great’s Imperial Russia.