Pray, lend your attention to the latest eccentricity emanating from the hallowed halls of the State Duma! A band of ambitious gentlemen, led by the comrades of the CPRF and one Senator Gibatdinov, has seen fit to propose a most curious boon for the aspiring carriage-owner.

They suggest that in the years of our Lord 2026 and 2027, any gentleman importing an electric vehicle for his own personal delectation should be entirely spared the grasping claws of the customs officer. Imagine it! No duties, no taxes, and not a single farthing paid toward the so-called 'utilization fee.'

One can almost picture the scene: a merchant, his eyes gleaming with the prospect of a bargain, rushing to secure a carriage that hums like a disturbed beehive, all to save a few precious shillings. The proponents of this scheme argue that such a gesture will seduce the public away from the crude reliance on petrol, thereby curing the nation of its fuel shortages and polishing the very air we breathe.

'The logic is as clear as a freshly minted sovereign!' the Senator proclaims. He asserts that by stripping away the financial burdens, the common citizen will be emboldened to ignore the scandalous lack of charging stations currently littering the countryside. For in the mind of the optimist, if one simply floods the streets with these electric curiosities, the infrastructure shall miraculously sprout from the earth like mushrooms after a spring rain.

Indeed, it is a classic tale of the marketplace. Our dear Senator points toward Belarus as a beacon of such enlightenment, where the customs house already turns a blind eye to the electric carriage.

As for the state of the realm's other affairs, the same Senator has recently turned his gaze toward the lamentable shortage of physicians. His solution? To lure these learned men with the promise of a roof over their heads—for it seems that in this age, whether one is transporting patients or transporting oneself, a little bit of greed is the only lever that truly moves the world.