I rarely follow the news with great interest, and I am thus surprised whenever something or other actually grabs my attention. Not even wars reach me emotionally. In the recent past, the wars in the Gulf, Kosovo, and Chechnya have been the only exceptions. In such cases I experience a degree of partisanship that I find quite disgraceful, if not even contemptible. Predictably, in the Gulf war I was passionately against Saddam Hussain; in the Kosovo war I was against Milošević; and in the war in Chechnya I am against Putin. But I must confess that the last case is a bit different than others: I take special pleasure whenever I learn that Russians are getting a good trashing. I do not mind if the Chechens are dying in the conflict, as long as they take with them as many Russians as possible. I imagine the Chechens themselves have similar feelings, as any warring people would. Of course, I am not proud of my sentiments, but I do not wish to hide them, either. Not in my book, that is. The peculiar thing about this confession is that I have felt an urge to make it for a few weeks now. In fact, I have already told a few people that I relish the Russian losses in Chechnya, and they have not even blinked at the revelation. It was only a question of exactly when I would sit down and divulge this little secret to you, too, dear reader.