Michael B. Duff

James Lileks remembers Boris Yeltsin:

At the time he was a fresh wind, and he fit a Russian stereotype we hadn’t seen in decades. Instead of dour glowering technocrats or the tall Ivan-Drago Leninbots of fiction, he was a big rumpled Siberian who appeared to enjoy smiling for the simple human reasons. When he walked past us on the Mall on the way to visit at the Lincoln Memorial – yes, really – he grinned and rotated through the rock-paper-scissors gestures.