From Yuri Lebedev's 1973 Leningrad diary:

Listen to this, dear comrade. I went to a sordid little back-alley speakeasy on the weekend, called "Cosmo's". It was full of those vile revisionist American-inspired beatnik types, all malcontents and subversives intent on destroying the socialist system. They were using repugnant expressions like "Cool, Daddy-O..." and smoking those illegal marijuana reefers that destroy your mind and turn you into a sexual deviant with delusions of omnipotence. I sat there for three hours, consuming viciously strong expresso coffee that was probably smuggled into our Motherland by CIA operatives do weaken the fibre of our young people. I don't doubt that it was laced with illicit substances intended to slowly infect the drinker with an admiration for social irresponsibility and obscene riches gained on the backs of the starving Mexican and Negro workers.

I listened to their disgusting music. Pink Floyd, Jethro Tull, the Rolling Stones, and worst of all that nihilist, Frank Zappa! The heavy beat of the rock music, combined with the beatnik jargon these degenerates spouted almost drove me out of my mind.

Never have I seen such hedonistic perversion as I witnessed in the contraband literature that lay scattered around on ash-laden tables...Mad Magazine, the National Lampoon, Hustler, and Time Magazine! A litany of capitalist lies and come-ons, designed to reduce a once proud people to a slobbering, mindless, greed-obsessed mob of lemming-like consumers. I shudder when I think of it.

They were wearing berets and sunglasses indoors! I couldn't even tell the boys from the girls, and their level of hygeine was so bad that you wouldn't want to anyway. One of them asked me if I could spare some bread, so I gave him two slices of dark rye, and he looked at me like I was insane.

They all began glancing at me suspiciously after that, no doubt assuming I was KGB. Well, they have a surprise coming. I am not KGB, I am an ordinary assembly line worker at the tractor factory, but I am going to inform the authorities of what is happening in that noisome haunt, "Cosmo's", and THEN those capitalist beatniks will find out exactly what a KGB agent looks like!

Fascists, every last one of 'em.