It's not a clipovitch, Comrade. It's a magazinovitch.
The importance of correct terminology is evident in this absolutely true story from Mother Russia immediately after the Communists seized power.
During one particularly harsh winter a Commissar knocked loudly on the door of a squalid hut occupied by a peasant couple. They huddled quietly in a dark corner, hoping to escape his notice because the entire countryside feared him.
Commissar Rudolph was a brutal man, a tyrant who dominated the peasants under his control just as Mayors Fenty, Daley, Bloomberg, and Nagin dominated their inferiors. None of them cared anything about any life but their own.
Rudolph shouted: "I order you to let me in now, Comrades. It is cold and raining. I wish to take shelter and be fed."
Slowly the peasant opened the door to his hut. Slowly he looked at the sky.
And slowly he said, in a faltering voice, "But Comrade Rudolph, there is no rain. There is perhaps some slight moisture in the air, but there is no rain to delay you on the road."
Commissar Rudolph roared in anger, "I tell you it is raining! Let me in at once so I can shelter from the rain!"
The peasant tried again: "But Comrade, there is only a dampness but no rain."
Fearfully, shaking with anxiety, the peasant's wife tugged at her husband's rags. She whispered urgently, "Hush, you dimwit. Be silent and try to appease him."
And then she added the immortal phrase, "Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear."