To the story of Neko Loshi about that “In the background of that war we still live well, healthy and happy. In addition to those unfortunate people who always lack something, the bitterness of the ruble falls by another 50 cops. And that kind of shit.”

It is all so, of course...

My grandmother also remembered the eyes of a German pilot... who stormed a refugee column on the way to Minsk, and she was sitting in the body with a 7-month-old mother on her arms... and it was the greatest happiness then – not to be injured and to sit in the body of a truck, which still had fuel in the tank.
Because the rest of the ants slipped on foot along the side, with suitcases and chariots, crawling through dead horses, burning chariots, cars, and bombed tanks.
And through the bodies of those who were even less fortunate, although many of them breathed it.

50 kopecks to the rate of the ruble is nonsense, I do not argue. Russia is almost at war.
I am not a “Western” in my personal beliefs. I don’t earn a lot, but I would easily withstand with my family and another 50 rubles to the course. If I could see that this is an inevitable calamity, coming entirely from there, and the whole country suffers from it, we are all more or less equal.

But here is the problem – I live in Moscow, and therefore I see especially clearly that to whom is the war, and to whom is the Mother’s birthplace.

Petrers also see the Gazprom construction at Ohta. Very cheap and timely construction.
And I see that Bentley and Maybach on the capital streets did not get less, rather the opposite. That in social networks, then and then, the pictures of the next person holding the power, "caught" in the next hours for 30.. 250... 600 thousand euros. Or for a million. Or even more.

And I also see there - on the Internet and on TV - constantly screaming for help: a child dies, the diagnosis is confirmed, the operation is done, the cure is guaranteed... but only in a foreign clinic. The disease is very rare, in the country hundreds of cases per year. The sum is unrealistic for the average family, but compared to a million is not cosmic at all. Usually in the price range of "under-officer" hours for 20-50 thousand. The Euro. The state, of course, can help nothing. Save my boy! Save my mother!

At some point, I had a strange habit. To measure all the amounts stolen in the dead girls, yes.
Limit amounts of unnecessary or ineffective expenditure of budgets and state-owned enterprises - municipal, urban, regional. State budget, funds of state corporations.
The giant amounts of underpaid taxes from the exploitation of the country’s subsoil, on which the seven-month-old girl Masha from any distant country, wishing to live up to one year, has no less, exactly the same rights as the daughters and grandchildren of presidents of Rosneft, Lukoil, Gazprom, and it is scary to say, President of what else.
Taxes that did not reach the budget legally (due to the “friends for friends” favourite regime of the mining corporations) or illegally, due to the unhindered application of a multitude of clever international schemes that are only available to very large around the world.
The amounts that have come to light are "money" found in the safe of the chief of the shift at the customs post, the larger amounts stolen by purely state craftsmen and their mistresses, who are unknown how they occupy the highest posts in the army, and serious amounts found in the apartments of real personnel colonels - fighters against corruption.
Finally, the prices of foreign and domestic real estate, Maybach and Bentley, watches and jewelry from the capital's official-oligarchic secular chronicles.

And now cut me down, kill me, but I don’t know who would be harder for me to put my hand on – that German pilot who, though he was the exemplary product of the most human-eating ideology in human history, still believed that he is killing the enemy, “cleaning the living space of the German people,” and fighting in such a terrible way against strangers, for his country...
Or these figures in hours for a million or 100k euros, who are crushed about insufficient patriotism in the ungrateful population, teach us “correctly love the Motherland”, send to the “wrong” exhibitions and performances these groups of “Horoughenos with castets”, and on the TV screen – a cute young man with the song “Well, you wear a fig?” (in a censored version).

What are you wearing? Do you live much better than in Somalia?
Where do you go, stinking rye, with your questions – and why should we, living on wages, go between us to treat the dying girl Masha, to be taken and rescued to another country, where these operations have long been done to all citizens on health insurance or state subsidy? And why does the budget in Norway fall in the end to 81% of the sale of extracted oil, and we only 36%? Why did the Olympics cost 18 times more than the average of the previous three winter games? But there are rumors, in Saudi Arabia, in the UAE, in Kuwait, even in the state of Alaska, citizens receive dividends from mining from the subsoil? And finally, why are we producing the most oil in the world, although we are only eighth in reserves, and what will happen to us when the oil is out?

Don’t ask too many questions, and don’t worry. Grizzly shale, steep pedals. Do sports, let go of the pair. For meat and big you have enough for now, shops are working and cyclists are not shot - rejoice. In Somalia, you know... So be an exemplary citizen.

I will... for now.
But for some reason I already have the feeling that this is the next mother of the girl Masha, to whom the state says, “...we can’t treat this. And the money to pay for treatment abroad is what you are! There is no money, no! Break through the central TV, gather through the innet - the people are good at us... in their mass. Or keep it anyway. Young people, you are giving birth!” – so, this mother feels NOW not much better than the mother of a wounded girl, who pressed her to the chest on the terrible side of the June front road to Minsk three quarters of a century ago.

At least because then it was clear to THIS mother – the enemy – he was all there, in the rumbling and shooting air... well, on the ground, of course, but for now still beyond the horizon, far west. Here, on the side, no matter how scary, but on the earth around – all its own...
And this modern mother, what does she think now?