Conventional wisdom holds that the Russian language consists of about half million words, with roughly 150,000 of them listed in the multi-volume Large Academic Dictionary.

Naturally, no one uses such a monstrous vocabulary. A record seems to belong to the titan of the Russian literature, Aleksandr Pushkin, whose poems and prose reportedly utilized 24,000 words.

The rest of us settle for much less: it’s believed that one needs no more than 1,500 words to read Russian and about 400-500 words to maintain common conversation.

For some, that number still might appear like a lot. But this is only if you want to speak and read “regular” Russian. However, if your goal is more ambitious, that is, if you want to become a Russia “expert”, then all you need to learn is three words.

The first word is “gulag.” This word, introduced to the world by the Nobel Price winner, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, describes the elaborate system of labor camps used to repress political opposition in Stalin’s Soviet Union. By some accounts, more than 18 million people passed trough Gulag from 1929 to 1953; many of them have perished due to inhuman conditions of malnutrition and hard labor.

But this is not how Russia “experts” use the word. They invoke “gulag” every time when a mentally-disturbed street hooligan, calling himself “democrat”, gets arrested for the violation of public order. I already profiled one of the contemporary “gulag victims”, Oleg Kozlovsky, on the Instablogs. The only objective Russia “experts” seems to pursue by elevating pathetic clowns like Kozlovsky to the status of Gulag martyrs is to desecrate the memories of innocent victims of Stalin’s terror.

The second word is “K.G.B.” Never mind that K.G.B. doesn’t exist: in 1991, it was split into FSB (Federal Security Service) and SVR (Foreign Intelligence Service). But for Russia “experts” it doesn’t matter, for they use “K.G.B.” as a symbol by putting the “K.G.B.” label on everything they don’t understand or dislike.

This is very convenient: you call something or someone “K.G.B.”, and that’s it. Everyone gets it: it’s evil. No further explanation is needed.

That’s why Russia “experts” love so much the phrase: “President Putin, a former K.G.B. spy…” You say that and any discussion of Putin’s policies becomes meaningless. What’s there to discuss if he’s K.G.B.?

(I wonder why no one ever uses the phrase “President Bush, a former alcoholic…”?)

There is another usage of “K.G.B.”, usually in the context of a “K.G.B. man.” When Russia “experts” have nothing to say on the substance – which happens all the time –they use this phrase to slander their opponents. A fellow Citizen Journalist, for example, called me “K.G.B. man” when she didn’t like my post.

The third word is “Putin.” I already wrote on my blog that the obsession of Russia “experts” with Vladimir Putin is mind-boggling; I even suspect there is something sexual here.

But not dissimilar to “K.G.B.”, Russia “experts” rarely apply “Putin” to a concrete person. Rather, they use the word in almost supernatural sense — to describe the origin of all “evil” in the world.

It would seem that since the election of Dmitry Medvedev president of Russia, the word “Medvedev” should gradually replace “Putin” in the lexicon of Russia “experts.” Not so fast. Medvedev was born after Gulag has ceased to exist and he has no K.G.B. connections. By the very virtue of his background, Medvedev is challenging the sacredness of the “gulag-K.G.B.-Putin” axes of evil.

Besides, compared to a simple, two-syllable “Putin”, three-syllable “Medvedev” with an awkward run of “d” and “v’” is difficult to learn. If a leading U.S. presidential candidate struggles to pronounce Medvedev’s name, what do you expect from Russia “experts” who are so busy writing multiple blogs that they have no time – nor desire or skills – to do their home work?

Oh yes, to become a Russia “expert”, you should also learn a few accessory words, usually semi-profanities. Russia “experts” use them to “argue” with their opponents. Here is a sample of those: “illiterate moron”, “Kremlin shill”, “very bad liar”, and (my favorite) “Kremlin’s nasty little insect.”

However, if you choose to learn “normal” Russian, rest your soul with a Pushkin’s jewel. It’s beautiful, even in English:

I remember a wonderful moment
As before my eyes you appeared,
Like a vision, fleeting, momentary,
Like a spirit of the purest beauty.

(“To A. P. Kern”)