|Totalitarians really love motley metaphors, macerated in trope, hyperbole, and the mundane:
1) super man
But of course Lenin was dead when the film was made.
Filleted by chef Stalin and served to the people: Zharkoye for the starving.
Long ago the sun had set: his brain ruptured in what would be the death throes of his revolution's sunrise.
I told you they love the remixed mix-up metaphor, so why shouldn't I?
And the masses, they eat it all up.
They lick their plates clean:
Love equals mindless devotion as the buried tuber loves the sun.
Or are they eaten? Flesh picked from their bones by the Party?
Maybe I don't understand because I'm not a totalitarian matre d' or a dirt farmer or a canibalistic star sending out rays to be thoughtlessly absorbed and converted, eventually, historically, emphatically to vodka or maybe it is because I am not a potato?