There is a funny-sounding Russian word, “fufloh.” It could be translated in English as “junk”, “crap”, or “rubbish.” In addition, “fufloh” wears a scent of falsification; in colloquial Russian, “fufloh” equals to “pulling a fast one.”

Fufloh is the best word to describe the Washington Post’s “coverage” of Russia of late.

In May, this flagship of American journalism offered its space to a Oleg Kozlovsky, a petty criminal who calls himself a “pro-democracy advocate.” There was nothing remarkable in delusional Kozlovsky’s babbling except for his claim that he wrote his Post piece when sitting in prison.

The image of a “pro-democracy advocate” writing articles in a Russian pen was so incredible that one of the Instablogs’ Citizen Journalists rushed to the rescue. We were told that in fact, Kozlovsky wrote the article weeks before he was arrested. Post’s editors just “published” it when he was in prison. Nice try. The truth is that Kozlovsky never wrote anything for the Post. He simply “donated” his name, and his Post’s handlers did the writing.

Typical fufloh.

Last weekend, the Post added yet another masterpiece to its Russian collection. It published an article allegedly authored by a Julia Latynina described as a Russian journalist and novelist. A journalist Ms. Latynina is not, unless you call “journalism” a compilation of second-hand rumors and sultry gossips. A better word to describe the new Post star is storyteller. And, boy, stories she tells!

Ms. Latynina brings us to the upper echelons of Russian society populated by “ministers, their wives and their children.” Added to the mix are “their lovers, … high-priced prostitutes, high on cocaine.” (Ms. Latynina obviously knows that sex and drugs sell, even at the Post!).

Here is my favorite story:

“On a rainy September evening…, I witnessed an accident on Moscow’s government thoroughfare – the famous Kutuzovsky Prospect. A silver Lexus, traveling at what looked to be about 90 miles an hour, flew out of the far left lane and crossed four lanes of oncoming traffic, crashing into several cars.”

Wait a minute! Everyone who has visited Moscow at least once over the past few years knows that the city is a brutal traffic nightmare. And Ms. Latynina wants us to believe that during evening commute hours, a car travels through downtown Moscow at 90 miles an hour? Perhaps, not. Most likely, she meant 90 kilometers an hour (although this still sounds incredible), but the Post’s “assistant editor Zofia Smardz” who “translated” the story from Russian didn’t know the difference. Smells fufloh, doesn’t it?

But let the story continue:

“Within the hour, I learned that the driver of the Lexus was a 27-year-old woman with no known occupation.

(This is how politically correct Zofia Smardz translated “high-priced prostitute, high on cocaine”.)

With her in the car was a deputy minister of economic development.”

A friend of Ms. Latynina (she always has “friends” to help her create her fascinating stories) rushed to the scene, but it was too late:

“The minister was already dead.”

“The minister”? Only an hour ago, this unfortunate gentleman was “a deputy minister”? Those crazy Russians! They promoted the guy to the minister of economic development while he was dying in the car accident caused by a “woman with no known occupation.”

Typical fufloh.

Back in September 2007, the post of the minister of economic development was occupied by German Gref, who’s alive and well and is currently the president of Russia’s Sberbank. A careful examination of the list of 30 past and present deputy ministers of economic development (26 males and 4 females) reveals no one whose tenure was terminated in September 2007. But should this fact prevent the Post’s editors from telling a good story?

There seems to be another way of translating “fufloh” in English: F-rated journalism.