The Soviet information agency Sovinformbureau published the report titled "Feeble-minded fascist counterfeiters":
The proverb says: "When god want to punish the people, he makes them demented." The Hitlerites who manage the fascist propaganda, have lost the last remainders of the sense of humour. The frauds they fabricate amaze with the stupidity and poverty of intellect. So, after the publication of the note of People's Commissar of Foreign Affairs comrade V. M. Molotov "On the disgusting atrocities of the German powers to the Soviet prisoners of war", which has denounced the murderous acts of the German fascist rascals, the Hitler's criminals attempt to diminish the impression produced by this truthful document on the international public opinion. They try to slip away by making silly and giftless excuses, like petty swindlers. This time they found no better idea than to use the son of the People's Commissar of Foreign Affairs comrade V. M. Molotov, allegedly taken prisoner, as a "disprover".
Picking a rascal who sold himself to Gestapo, the fascist fools proclaimed the scoundrel the son of Molotov, Georgy Molotov, and staged the following farce. The rascal was brought to the German journalist, in front of whom he began to "refute" the facts stated in the note of V. M. Molotov, that is, began to "prove" that the black is white and that the hitlerites are not animals and cannibals, but meek lambs.
The illiterate speech of that hitlerite broadcasted by radio demonstrates his obvious problems with Russian language. So, instead of the Russian word "zheleznodorozhniki" (railroad workers) he used the word "transportniki" (transportists), and so on.
When arranging this most stupid farce, the hitlerite counterfeiters failed to take into account the fact that V. M. Molotov does not have a son, and never had.
What a bad time the Hitler's gang has if they have to resort to so awkward tricks.
The newspaper Vecherniy Leningrad published a satirical article titled "Near-literary drone".
Some years ago, a young man who called himself a poet has appeared in the near-literary circles of Leningrad. He wore velveteen trousers and always carried a briefcase stuffed with papers. In winter he didn't wear a hat and the snow fell freely onto his reddish hair.
The friends called him simply Osya. In other places he was titled with his full name — Iosif Brodsky.
Brodsky visited an association of beginning writers at the Culture Palace of the First Five Year Plan. But the poet in the velveteen trousers decided that working in the association was not a job for his generous nature. He even told the beginning writers that the study in this association allegedly constrains the creativity and he will climb the Parnassus alone.
What did this self-confident youngster have to bring into the literature? He had a dozen or two of verses written in a thin school notebook, and all of them demonstrated the deficiency of his worldview. "Cemetery", "I'll die…" — by these titles alone we can judge the works of Brodsky. He imitated the poets who advocate the pessimism and lack of trust into the man, his verses are a blend of decadence, modernism and unconcealed gibberish. His wretched imitations looked pathetic. Though, he could not create anything independent. He had neither knowledge nor culture for that. What knowledge can a man have, who did not graduate the secondary school?
Who are the supporters of Brodsky? Marianna Volnyanskaya, who abandoned her old mother for the bohemian life, her friend Nezhdanova, an evangelist of yoga and various mysticism. Vladimir Shveygoltz, whose face is often seen on the satirical posters published by the people's druzhina, criminal Anatoly Geyhman, parasite Yefim Slavinsky who prefers to lounge about in various expedition for a couple of months and not to work in the remaining time. Among the best friends of Brodsky there are a pathetic near-literary person Vladimir Gerasimov and a fence of foreign clothes Shilinsky, known simply as Zhora.
This group not only lauds Brodsky, but tries to disseminate his works among the youth. Someone Leonid Aronzon reprints them on a typewriter and others fob them off.
Brodsky self-esteem was demonstrated on February 14 during the young poets' party in the Gorky Palace of Culture, where Brodsky read his sepulchral verses. Someone in the hall correctly assessed them, shouting "This is gibberish, not poetry!" "What is allowed to Jupiter, is not allowed to the ox," he replied. What an impudence! A frog imagined itself Jupiter.
The gibberish is just one part of Brodsky's "innocent" hobby. In one of the verses he wrote: "I love the foreign homeland." You can see now that this pygmy climbing Parnassus is not that harmless. He is extremely candid. He doesn't love his homeland and does not hide it. More than that! For a long time he planned to betray his motherland. On invitation of his friend Shakhmatov, who is now sentenced to jail, Brodsky visited Samarkand, bringing his thin notebook with verses and a "philosphical" treatise by someone Umansky. The gist of that "treatise" was that the youth should not recognize their debt to the parents, the society, the state, because it would constrain their freedom. Shakhmatov and Brodsky met an American in the hotel Samarkand, who agreed to publish the treatise in USA. In the last moment, though, Brodsky and Shakhmatov chickened out.
There, in Samarkand, Brodsky attempted to bring into life his plan of the betrayal of his Motherland. Together with Shakhmatov, he visited the local airport to hijack an airplane and to leave the USSR. They even chose an airplane, but noticed that there is not enough fuel and delayed their plans.
Since Brodsky is still young, many his misdemeanours were pardoned. He was warned of the responsibility for his anti-social activity. However, he drew no conclusions. He continues to parasitize. This healthy 26-year old guy avoids the publicly useful work for four years.…
Obviously, we have to stop fussing over the near-literary drones. People like Brodsky have no place in Leningrad.
One month later, in January 1964, the same newspaper published the readers' letters: "Nothing will save Brodsky and his supporters from the judgment of public opinion. … The drone Brodsky has lived at the expense of society long enough. Let him work. And if he doesn’t want to, he has only himself to blame for the consequences."
Nine years later Iosif Aleksandrovich Brodsky, one of the greatest Russian poets, was expelled from the USSR. In 1987 Josef Brodsky, one of the greatest American writers, was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature. When asked if he Russian or American, he usually replied: "I am Jewish — a Russian poet and an English essayist."