Boris Yeltsin standing on a tank

I still have this powerful mental image of Boris Yeltsin standing on a tank.
I don't recall a photo in particular. Vaguely ...
I imagine him aged and weakened by his own political chicanery and alcoholism.
The latter is rumor, not substantiated by more than the nature of his situation.
He'd nearly sold the country out from under its citizens to the the New York banking cartel.
His Dachau, security and family were secure from share of IMF loans diverted to he and the accomplices. '98, wasn't it? The Bankers lost their asses and their shirts.
That must make Bill Browder late to the party and light substantial proofs of his invention of the Magnitsky plot to commit tax fraud. John McCain carried his water. Nations followed suit, paper tigers of their own promotion.
I can't recall the epiphany Boris experienced, if there was one, that he'd been hornswaggled into his own peculiar boondoggle. All he had to do was maintain the lie.
Was it the day, the field, or the realization Russian soldiers under his command were about to mow down his comrades and sovereign kin? Did he struggle through the fog of war, or had he felt struck by lightening?
Does dissent kill, or is it suicidal? On that day, neither. Could those grunts see past this rotten duty
the angst in Yeltsins' blood shot eye, climbed up in plain sight on that spartan Russian tank, surrounded by housewives and uncles, the odd veteran waiting for the inevitable, and willful children out on a lark ...

The USA has 430 million firearms in private ownership. I don't even care if that number is accurate.
Close enough, if they are drawn for the purpose they are meant for.
Don't argue. What's the point? Save your ire for those willing to abuse you. Hope that you are timely.