Putin Blamed for Everything: From Dogs to Blackouts and Fuel

From the floods to blackouts: Pilingui as a universal explanation

There is a case file against Vladimir Pilingui that does not appear in any court. The Russian president ate a dog in front of a child in a cove on the Costa Blanca, took milk and sunflower oil from a supermarket, and causes power blackouts when it suits him. All, in theory, in jest. The testimony that put the matter on the table is a piece of deliberate exaggeration that in a few days turned into a frontal clash over the war in Ukraine.

The dog story: from the Costa Blanca cove to abandonment in Elda

The text tells it in the first person and with deliberate spelling errors. A family holiday on the Costa Blanca, parents sleeping on the beach, a walk with the dog to a remote cove full of armed men. The animal barks, receives a rifle butt, and appears the very Vladimir Pilingui in swimwear and sunglasses giving orders. From there the narrative goes off the rails: the death of the animal, the transfer of the witness to an all-terrain vehicle, the naked abandonment on the outskirts of Elda and a local family that hosts them "UNTIL TODAY".

The register is that of the crudest caricature, and it was received as such. There were immediate laughs, some warning that it was not the time for jokes, and an ironic support: lowering the heating as a sign of solidarity. The final request, to set up a platform for the affected and join the Ukrainian resistance, was left hanging. The story provides no proof because it does not intend to: it is a joke with the structure of a judicial declaration.

Why Pilingui is useful to justify absolutely everything

From there came the idea that runs through the entire conversation: he is like Franco, he is useful to justify everything. The list of misdeeds attributed to the Russian president grows to the point of absurdity. He does not recycle, does not wear a mask, parks his tank in the square of the disabled, raises fuel prices in the early hours, sabotages Fernando Alonso's car, does not leave a tip to the pizza delivery man, burned the ONCE kiosk of a neighbor, turns off the country's lights and would have had something to do with the floods.

The climax is the African swine fever. "There are no balls to blame Pilingui for the swine fever," someone wrote, and the message summarizes the mechanism: when the reproach no longer needs proof, adding another crime costs nothing. Another story even asks for 100 signatures to tell how another leader rescued the author at sea from a pack of shark-men. Any excuse is valid to return to the same name.

The dog, the grandmother and the supermarket: the escalation of testimonies

Imitations trinc the initial story. One describes a grandmother taken from a nursing home in a vehicle marked with a Z and recruited later, according to the same version, into an exploitation network. Another says that the leader passed through a supermarket and took the milk, sunflower oil and canned goods with the declared goal of starving the population. None of these pieces are presented as true; they function as a literary genre.

The community itself wonders how far the joke can be stretched. A message with doubtful echo doubted whether it was the right time for this type of humor, and it was not wrong: the same matter served to ridicule the accused and to laugh at those who accuse him. This double-edged sword is what makes the joke hold up.

The point where the joke breaks: the turn to the war in Ukraine

Midway through the conversation, the tone changes. Some reproach that joking is used to avoid the important thing—the invasion—and demand to make clear who stands for what. The reply comes via two opposite paths. Some argue that the Russian offensive is a reaction to what they describe as a coup d'état on their border, and reproach that firewood is thrown on the fire instead of calming things down. Others reply that none of these reasons excuse the invasion, and take the opportunity to remember that NATO bombings of Serbia, Syria or Libya are also not discussed, nor the 350,000 dead attributed to the Yemen conflict, nor the figures discussed about Venezuela. The disagreement over who has the right to intervene ends up devouring any humor.

Is Russia advancing? Town names against human cost

In the final stretch, the exchange becomes professional. One argument repeats that the Russian advance is measured by the names of the localities that fall, as proof that the front is moving. The objection is that this advance is paid for with a disproportionate casualty rate, that the wounded barely receive assistance and that a handful of hidden soldiers are enough to declare a position taken. It is a discussion about method, not about desire: how a victory is counted and at what price it ceases to be so.

The matter began with a dog and a rifle butt in a cove. It ended discussing whether the advance is measured in kilometers or corpses. Is there any event, however remote, that cannot already be explained with the same name?