🇨🇫 Go West
Optics Without Optical Illusions
aka Operation Euroremont
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🖌️ The Real Artifact
In a world spinning with shadow plays and projection screens, optics became the Kremlin's most priceless relic. Not oil. Not even gas. Not even that frost-bitten loyalty they export with Stalinesque memes and Warhammer-grade uniforms. No, sir. The real artifact—what they worship—is the glare of a camera catching a man riding a horse shirtless, or a war parade rolling past with gold-edged flags while babushkas cry in rehearsed slow motion.
And so, they pour ruble after battered ruble into the floodlights of empire theatre.
🥶 Empire of Illusion
Enter Gazprom Media, a beast with too many heads and unlimited budgets, churning out symphonies of spectacle. Picture this: Olympic-level synchronized drone shows spelling out Russkiy Mir (the Russian World), while slow piano versions of the Soviet anthem play over AI-generated footage of imaginary peacekeepers planting a flag on the Moon. This is the empire of illusion. Empire as cosplay. Empire as filtered nostalgia.
Inside Russia, it's working. Not because people think Putin is the second coming of Peter the Great—no. It's because every square pixel of digital space is occupied by his influencer battalions, content creators who serve not with bullets, but with highly edited TikToks. The empire is streamed in 4K, its dystopia filtered through the amber glow of patriotic engagement metrics.
🚬 Behind the Smoke & Mirrors
But behind all that smoke and mirrors, lies a rotten necropolis of rights, where dissent gets blackout-tarped and rainbow flags are treated like biohazards. They mock the West's "decadence" with the fervor of someone who knows, deep down, that they've got no culture left to stand on unless it's in goose-step formation.
And now—now comes the flip.
The counterpunch.
The neon-colored, bubble-machine-powered slap to the ossified face of Kremlin propaganda.
Operation Euroremont:
💽 The Remix of Civilization
What if the answer wasn't in debate halls or military briefings—but in vibes?
Enter: a horizon of tour buses.
Not drab, cold-chartered ones. No, we're talking full-blown psychedelic parade wagons—part Burning Man, part Berlin Wall Reunification Tour, part "Y2K nostalgia-dipped into Eurovision sequins." These buses aren't just vehicles. They're optical payloads.
Phase One
😎 Deployment of Joy
The Convoy
Each convoy rolls out with Mardi Gras-style coordinators: feathered, glittered, and fabulously loud. They hand out 1990s-style Happy Meals in McDonald's boxes reborn in Ukrainian yellow-and-blue, dotted with holographic glitter stars. Inside each: fries, nuggets, stickers of NATO eagles surfing rainbow waves, and little fold-out maps of safe migration routes.
The Soundtrack
A massive orchestral remix of "Go West" by the Pet Shop Boys, with strings and techno, blasted across fields from floating speakers hoisted on drones. The chorus becomes a kind of hymn for the decolonized: "Go West, life is peaceful there / Go West, in the open air."
The Atmosphere
The organizers wear gold lamé tunics. Bubble machines spray the air like it's Studio 54 meets Freedom Convoy. Kids blow soap swirls into the sun. Dogs in pink vests ride scooters. Nobody's scared. This is optics flipped into _reality_—a tactical deployment of flamboyant peace.
Phase Two
🚌 Bus Types to Enrage the Kremlin
Each bus is themed for max visceral offense to the authoritarian psyche:
The Grateful Dead "Further" Bus
Psychedelic spirals, tie-dye curtains, Grateful Drones flying overhead.
Scooby-Doo Mystery Machine
Painted in Scooby-blue with NATO decals and slogans like "Where Are You, Democracy?"
The Vengabus
Blasting "We Like to Party" as it loads up passengers with jello shots and job applications.
Classic Yellow American School Buses
Lined up like a kindergarten armada of hope. Each labeled with destinations like Brussels, Lisbon, and San Diego.
EuroRemont Express
A chrome-wrapped luxury bus where every seat has built-in mood lighting, chargers, and a welcome mojito (virgin, because this is diplomacy).
These buses go viral. TikToks. Reels. Short films. Hollywood directors start bidding to make documentaries. Memes start popping up like post-Soviet mushrooms. #GoWestUkraine becomes a global trend.
Phase Three
🎉 Arrival & Welcome Party (Mexico Edition)
Where do they land?
Mexico, baby.
Palm trees sway. Mariachi bands play fusion jazz. People in traditional Mexican garb with elaborately painted sombreros greet arrivals with glittering piñatas filled with candy and pamphlets titled: "How to Rebuild Your Life and Also Your Kitchen – EuroRemont Style."
Virgin mojitos in hand, the new arrivals tour model homes being renovated by Ukrainian craftsmen in solar-powered villages. One craftsman looks at the camera, wipes sweat from his brow, and says: "We came for safety, and now we're helping build it here too."
🎞️ Searing Visuals
The visuals are searing.
Human dignity, rainbow disco, tacos, and tilework. It is civilization remixed with both groove and gravitas.
😱 The Kremlin's Worst Nightmare: Joy That Travels
Here's the kicker. While Russia mocks "decadent Western values," the West is now exporting coziness, inclusivity, and construction jobs—by the busload.
It's not a military invasion.
It's a full-blown cultural Euroremont—a flamboyant, glitter-glued spiritual rebirth tour.
And it devastates the Kremlin. Because nothing is more threatening to a dictator than a population that sees hope elsewhere and moves toward it—not in fear, but in party buses.
🍾 The Final Image
The final image is this:
A massive convoy of buses, driving westward into a golden sunset. The rear bus has a rainbow flag fluttering beside the Ukrainian coat of arms. A disco ball hangs from the last mirror.
Go West plays softly from a loudspeaker.
🎨 Operation Euroremont Has Started
No guns. Just motion.
No propaganda. Just parties.
No illusions. Just optics, clear and unashamed.
Operation Euroremont has started.
And no one—not Simonyan, not Putin, not the army of trolls — were ready for this kind of invasion