Louis Vuitton

Establishing shots from every cold war scene ever filmed here made Moscow the epicenter of a massive and massively bankrupt Empire of Evil, in ideological opposition to democracy and freedom. Freedom, it turns out, to dump an enormous Louis Vuitton trunk in the middle of Red Square. Lenin must be spinning in his nearby mausoleum, unless that has been turned into a Gucci or Cartier franchise, too. In which case, he might have been reinstalled in the Vuitton pavilion—might even be for sale. 

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Gorgeous he was not. He stood a few inches over five feet tall. In place of his usual Savile Row suit, he wore a light blazer and dark slacks, and his shirt flared open at the collar. His hair was thinning, his tan fading. But, when he ascended the podium, the audience cheered. It was Saturday night at the First Congregational Church in downtown Washington, and George Galloway—the most celebrated visiting orator in the United States—was about to address the antiwar crowd. Galloway’s day job is representing an East London neighborhood in British Parliament for the respect Party.

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