In February, a pro-European revolution swept the Ukrainian president, Viktor Yanukovych, a strong ally of Putin’s, from power in Kiev, replacing him with Petro Poroshenko. With Ukraine slipping from the Kremlin’s orbit, Putin sent Russian troops to occupy and later annex Ukrainian Crimea. Putin has said that Crimea is as important for the Russian people as the Temple Mount is for the Jews and Muslims, an opinion that should offend Russians, Jews and Muslims alike. For most people born in the U.S.S.R., myself included, the word Crimea evokes memories of summer vacations gorging on pelmeni (a species of dumpling) and getting reacquainted with the sun in decaying hotels and private huts. Think of it as a shabbier Fort Lauderdale with the occasional Chekhov statue. In any case, the loss of Crimea, with its majority-speaking Russian population, has been one of the most acutely felt wounds of the dissolution of the Soviet Union — having Crimea fall outside of Russia’s borders was like cutting off a piece of the Floridian peninsula below Jacksonville — and its reconquest has elevated Putin’s standing far above that of any Russian leader in perhaps a century. But that proved not to be enough for him.

The imposition of Western sanctions against Russian officials after Crimea’s annexation dealt but a glancing blow to the Russian economy. Putin’s next move, his support of pro-Russian rebels in Ukraine’s industrialized Donbass region, led to a war that the United Nations estimates has displaced a million people and resulted in more than 5,000 deaths, and further sanctions from the West. (As of this writing, a cease-fire has been brokered, but it is fragile and may not last.) But it is the collapse of the price of oil, Russia’s main export commodity, that has weakened the regime. As the price of a barrel of Brent crude and the value of the ruble go down, the tenor of propaganda on Russian television goes up.

The presenters of a Pan-Slavic Russian-Ukrainian-Belorussian concert are rattling off a list of Russian pop stars no longer allowed into Ukraine after Putin’s invasion of Crimea. “We don’t have such blacklists,” the M.C. says. “We wish all people love and friendship without any boycotts.”

“They” — meaning Ukraine and the West; according to the Russian media, NATO and the C.I.A. have all but taken over Ukraine’s government, so it’s hard to resist conflating the two — “have oppressed our artists!” another singer says.

“They’re not allowing us to have our own point of view.”

“How can one not love one’s own president? That’s our point of view.”

“On our stage, there are no borders.”

The presenters sound genuinely hurt, and they are speaking for much of their television audience when they complain about the West’s cold shoulder. This is geopolitics as middle-school homeroom. Like an ambitious tween who longs for social success, Russia wants to be both noticed and respected. The invasion of Crimea and the bloody conflict in Eastern Ukraine got the world’s attention, but now the cool nations are no longer inviting Russia for unsupervised sleepovers, and the only kids still leaving notes on Russia’s locker are Kim Jong-un and Raúl Castro.

DAY 2

I miss Putin. He is on a TV sabbatical for most of this week, enjoying the 11-day extended New Year’s holiday, swimming up a tsunami in his presidential pool, I’m sure. Putin’s face did show up on all three of my monitors around midnight, Moscow time, as he delivered his New Year’s address to the country. “Love of homeland is one of the most powerful, elevating feelings,” Putin declared, with his patented affectless-yet-deadly seriousness. The return of Crimea will become “one of the most important events in the history of the fatherland.”