Once in my deep childhood, at eight or ten, I wanted something strange. It was a rather harmless desire - not to torture the pockets and not to torture the cats of dogs, but for the vast majority of the boys of my age, the inaccessible, for the urban, it was definitely impossible - I wanted to crack. Just so, not in the game and without any other justification to give the maximum power of the voice. Planned and done. I went into the forest, which was around the military unit, where my father served, went quite far, exactly a kilometer away, and, sitting on a penny, began to give roulettes. Rest for five minutes, rest and again. and again. and again. He gave out screams of very different tones, but all at full volume. He was angry and already wanted to finish, but at this time his father jumped out of the bowl, and with him three more officers, and two of them had guns. What are you screaming? They ask – what happened? Nothing - I answered - I just wanted to fuck, so I went away. And we — we said — thought that animals were eating you here and rushing to help.

Strangely enough, there were no punishments. But since then and in part and in the officer town knew who of the boys was the loudest.

One day you will ask me what I love more: you or soup. I will answer: the first.

The consequences of computerization: Former urban youths become bloggers.

I encountered the story about Botswana and Capablanca https://www.anekdot.ru/id/1019059/ and recalled “the roads we choose” and something about the moral appearance of the builders of communism).

Probably somewhere in the 80s came to our school the international chess master V. Zilberstein. The one who is best known, apparently, as his disciple is Jan the Unremembering.
The town is small, the strongest chess player is a slightly drinking KMS. In general, the arrival of the champion of the RSFSR - an event for the city, and for the school where he was asked to give a session - something incredible.
A man 15 schoolchildren were released from classes to run home for chess and then sat in the acting room behind tables with figures. The master walked around and made moves.

My father taught me how to play chess, books and chess textbooks I had never seen. It was simply not to get in the years of the Soviet "abundance". Several times I went to the chess section of the same slightly drinking KMS, but listening to his abstract sentences about life was not interesting.

Back to the session. Growth I was quite small, at my 12 years I did not rise much above the table. Walking on the twentieth saw an interesting combination, told about it to the neighbor, and when approaching the master sacrificed a pedestrian.
Maestro during the session did not refuse to make at one board several moves in a row if the opponent responded quickly. So I immediately made the second move and the maestro, taking a step back from the next table, came back to me, looked at the position and realized that the party for him was over.

And then - a series of enthusiastic teachers, the director, some solid comrades from the city - yes!!! But a little later.

...Maestro quietly put back on the board the pedestrian he took, returned the position back and passed. At my blind eye and question – “But you have already gone.” This adult Gondon, who was under the forty, calmly that according to the rules of the sessions, I had to wait for him to make the Circle and come back to me.

No, I don’t think I’d become a world champion with the feeling that I could win from an international champion, but who knows...
But a good lesson of the fact that an adult respectable person can be a shit in the soul, I definitely got.

In the coming days we will choose those who will live well in Russia.