MASH 14 MASH goes to Moscow Read Free

paper, Kremlin Form 344-A, Inter-Commissar Memoranda, across the table to the Commissar of Culture. The Commissar picked it up, although he knew its contents by heart, and read it.
    “What does it say, Vladimir Vladimirovich ?” the Chairman said, his voice soft but menacing. “Read it to me.”
    The Commissar of Culture cleared his voice. “It says,” he said, “ ‘Regarding the Chairman’s Kremlin Form 344-A, subject: Opera Singer’s Singing, that the Commissar of Culture regrets to inform the Chairman that the singer in question, Boris Alexandrovich Korsky-Rimsakov, will not be available to sing in the Soviet Union at any time in the foreseeable future.’ ” He paused, swallowed, and went on. “It is signed, ‘Respectfully submitted, V. I. Vladimirovich , Commissar of Culture.’ ”
    “So it is,” the Chairman said. “Commissar of Culture. Maybe you’re in the wrong job, Vladimir. How does Deputy Assistant Junior Commissar in charge of cutting fishing holes through the ice in Lake Baikal sound to you, Vladimir?”
    “Comrade Chairman …” Vladimir began.
    “I’m not an unreasonable man, Vladimir Ivanovich Vladimirovich ,” the Chairman said. “I regard myself as just one of the workers and peasants, and the last thing I expect in the world is special privilege just because I happen to be Supreme Chairman of the Party. You understand that, don’t you, Vladimir?”
    “Yes, of course, Comrade Chairman.”
    “On the other hand, Vladimir,” the Chairman went on. “Let’s face it, I’m not what you can call one of your ordinary run-of-the-mill workers and peasants. Right?”
    “Absolutely, Comrade Chairman,” the Commissar of Culture replied.
    “And when I ask a teensy-weensy little favor from one of my commissars, I don’t think I’m being unreasonable to expect to get what I ask for, do you, Comrade?”
    “Not unreasonable at all, Comrade Chairman,” the Commissar said.
    “And I don’t think that asking the Commissar of Culture to arrange for two performances of Boris Godnuov at the Bolshoi is too much to ask of a Commissar of Culture, do you, Comrade Commissar of Culture? I mean, after all, that’s what you’re for, when you get right down to it, isn’t it, Comrade?”
    “Absolutely, Comrade Chairman.”
    “Then why did you send me this Form 344-A saying you won’t do it?”
    “I didn’t say I won’t do it, Comrade Chairman,” the Commissar of Culture said. “I said Boris Alexandrovich Korsky-Rimsakov said he won’t do it.”
    “Perhaps Tovarisch Korsky-Rimsakov wasn’t aware that I, personally, was interested,” the Chairman said. “Let’s face it, Vladimir, you’re the kind of commissar people like saying no to. Personality-wise, comrade, you’re a zero.”
    “I personally told him, Comrade Chairman, that you were personally interested,” the Commissar of Culture said.
    “And he still refused? What did he say?” the Chairman asked, incredulously.
    The Commissar of Culture was visibly embarrassed.
    “What did he say, comrade?” the Chairman asked, sternly.
    “I hesitate to say it out loud,” the Commissar of Culture said.
    “Well, then,” the Chairman said, “whisper it in my ear.”
    The Commissar of Culture rose, walked behind the Chairman’s desk, bent over, and whispered Mr. Korsky-Rimsakov’s reply in the Chairman’s ear. The Chairman blanched.
    “Not only,” he said, “is that not the sort of language one should use in the same sentence as my name, but, physiologically and anatomically speaking, it’s impossible.”

Chapter Two
    The Chairman of the Supreme Soviet of the U.S.S.R. listened intently and took notes as the Commissar of Culture explained what, precisely, was the problem vis-à-vis having Boris Alexandrovich Korsky-Rimsakov give two performances of Boris Godnuov at the Bolshoi Theatre.
    When the Commissar of Culture had concluded his explanation, the Chairman looked thoughtful a moment and then said, “Well, Comrade Commissar,