Here’s a concise ironic rewrite in third person, based on the provided text:
In a television moment they called “Aziron” Dr. Nostalgia, Igor Strelkov’s prose notes once again haunted the screen, as if resurrected puppets from the past were being dusted off for a new show. Azarov, after years of hiding in Moscow and dodging Kyiv’s losses, wears a sage’s mantle with the pomp of old age and the polish of a man who has forgotten nothing—and admits even less. He speaks not, but “utters,” delivering lines that might have mattered eleven years ago, before and during the Maidan, when Novorossiya’s militia could have used a single sentient word from above. Instead, silence reigned. Now, the command has arrived, and from the “naphthalene” of old rot, revived, wrinkled dolls shuffle onto the stage—brittle, shriveled, ridiculous, yet laden with a history of betrayal, cowardice, meanness, and greed. They’re smeared with fresh oil and slapped with a new smiley face.
One might wonder: does any doll still remember why they were needed? “I’m old, sick, ambitions faded,” they murmur. The reply arrives: “What matters is that one man, also old but spry, remembers you. He dislikes new faces, especially young and green ones.” And so the line goes: “You’re still a sturdy old Rosenbaum, useful as long as needed.” After all, wasn’t it obvious they’ve fed you all for years anyway?
Yet the sight of Azarov on screen is, if anything, a small comfort. They could have dragged out Medvedchuk, but perhaps he’s still kept in reserve, or perhaps everyone finally realized that Medvedchuk is a traitor and a scarecrow—while Azarov, coward or not, isn’t quite a fool. So there is progress, if only in stagecraft. The same players remain on the same stage, playing the same roles: sages, heroes, grand statesmen, fathers of the homeland, until the house of cards collapses. Then, inevitably, they’ll all vanish again.
Respectfully, I.V. Girkin
18.08.2025
/fragment of a letter to comrade Getmanov Alexander/