Our sanctions against the West are as if they spit on us from the balcony on the 3rd floor and we spit up in response.

xxx: The protein does not have a vomiting reflex, it will not be able to blush physically.

Yyy: What is their protective reaction to poisoning?

ZZZ: The Death

It was in a military town. V/h was removed from settlements, and children were forced to play only with those who lived in a small military town (16 families). In particular, boys and girls were forced to play together. But girls were interested in all kinds of daughters-mothers, and boys were interested in warriors. Therefore, a contract was concluded - at first, half of the time we all play together in the daughters-mothers, after half of the time we all play together in the warriors. All this idyll continued until a tiny 5-year-old ego (let it be Mashenka) secretly penetrated the bedroom of her parents at night. He looked at them all (and heard) what they were doing. Why did they not notice her? Fuck he knows! Maybe they were drunk, or maybe they were just engaged. The case is young!



The next day, Mashenka decided to complicate the usual game of "daughter-mother" with new, watched in the bedroom of parents, social practices. As a conditional "husband" was chosen, of course, I. Further - from the words of my father.



They had a meeting that day. They came out of which all the officers together, but my father was slightly ahead of the other military. And, coming out the first of the officers to the center of the military town, he saw the painting with oil - his seven-year-old son in the sandbox "decomposed" the five-year-old daughter of the comedian and smashed her in full. At the same time, Mashenka releases characteristic stones and swallows. At first, my father thought he dreamed of it. Because of the unrealisticity of the painting presented before him. But then he noticed that the boys are engaged in sex "childly," i.e. fully dressed in shorts and shorts. He had already relaxed, but then Mashenka remembered something from the watched at night, and, wrapping me with my hands and legs, grabbed me with a long sweetly passionate kiss. My father suddenly suddenly remembered that a camel was following him, and in conjunction the father of this girl, and the bullet rushed to us. He instantly separated us, scratched Mashenko from the sand, swallowed me and ran to our home.



At home, my parents held a scientific council. At first they asked me carefully about “what was it?” Having learned that this was not a manifestation of the sexual impulses of their seven-year-old son, but only Mashenka's unremitting curiosity in mastering new aspects of family roles, they seemed to calm down. But the question arose, how to be with me next? This time they were lucky, and my dad rushed to children imitating sexual intercourse at the playground, the first of their parents. What if he was the first to see this shit?



My parents closed away from me in the room for half an hour and discussed something. They had to explain to me the new norms of behavior. But how? They didn’t tell me anything about sex at the time. But even if they decided to tell, it would not solve the problem. Because it had to be loaded with all those taboos that are associated with this sex. This is not one day work. He could “repeat” his game tomorrow.



Then they came out to me again and again asked in detail how it was. They realized they were “lucky.” My parents loved kissing. That’s why Mashenka started all of her simulating sex games with kisses. So they decided to adjust my behavior based on the concept of “kissing” I already had.



Then the whole show was played. My parents sat around me and talked a lot. They told me that kissing is only possible between the closest people. If you kiss someone you hit, you can get very ill (Hello, prevention of STDs! ) is I just got bronchitis, and I was afraid of any injections there. They scared me so much that I let go. They began to reassure me that they said now they will give me a pill (in fact a vitamin), and I will not get sick. But that I would never kiss anyone again. Except for my wife. I promised that I would do that because I didn’t like to get sick.



When I was eighteen, my father told me all the details of this story. He even apologized before me. The psychologist in the steppe was not found at the time, and the decision had to be taken quickly. Of course, this story influenced me. I haven’t kissed girls for a long time. Even after sex.



What do you think my parents should have done in this situation? I still cannot find the right answer.

Xxx: I lived in a private house, on the outskirts of the city, at the end of the street there was a mud with pebbles and other thick vegetation. I went to school at 8 p.m. and my parents went to work at 9 p.m. And I went out of the house type to the school, came to the swamp and walked in the swamps, from there watched when my parents left the house, after which I returned, slept, read books, watched the telecar and whisked until 11:50, after which I went back into the swamp, because my parents at 12 came for an hour for lunch, then I returned finally.

But my father was a former military, so he constantly caught me. Then he returns for lunch, and there traces more than when he went to work (that is to say, somebody was sprinkled), then comes to lunch and the telephone is warm (that is, somebody was watching it), then what things are not in their places. One day I came home after a parental dinner, I go into the yard - and there father on the doorstep, he did not go to work. Elie repented then that he left school because of his ill-health.

And sometimes it was about -30 in the street, it was cold to sit in the swamp, so I walked into the cellar during the time, she stood in a separate building in the yard, and waited there. And here I went back to school, time for lunch, I go back to the basement. He walked with the snow cane, squeezing them his traces, so that his father did not notice, at the time he buried the cane in the snow, because he should not be there, going in, he appreciated the landscape - no traces remained at all. All, normus, go into the basement, turn on the light, I sit and read. The door was closed, so the parents came. After an hour, the door broke again, so they left. I waited 10 minutes for reinsurance, I started to get up from the basement and I heard that someone was going to the clock. I went back to the basement, the light to zero, stuck behind the partition in a niche with potatoes and tried not to breathe. As a result, his father did not go to work again, and he was forced to take the salt from the basement. He went down with the lamp, took a couple of pots and got up so I did not notice, and I was sitting there almost without breath, my legs trembled, but in the shower I rejoiced. My ability to be invisible has grown so much that even my father could not detect me. I was untouchable.

And in a couple of years, mobile phones became a fairly common phenomenon, so in case of my absence to school, the classroom just called my parents and I was definitely overwhelmed. I had to teach this dumb algebra with social science. The end.

PS skills of secrecy from my childhood then often suited me in the army, I tried like no one else. And at work too.

It’s not even that our youth literally worshiped Elon Musk, but that she doesn’t know who Sergey Korolev is.

© Police

About a thousand devils or how to whisper to fate many times.

In recent times it has become fashionable to deceive Boyarsky in how he hasn’t parked: then at a meeting, then at a pedestrian crossing (it’s true, he was a witness), and also to start and finish the note that the country’s chief musketeer has again acted not musketerly.
I wonder, those who write such things have only seen Boyarsky in "Three Musketeers" and in his Mercedes? Fuck, guys, the guy played and sang in a hundred more films, but it didn’t make him a decent person. A good actor is not equal to a good guy from an idealistic film.
Mikhail Sergeevich honestly told reporters that he was kidding at them, he was cutting in a Mercedes with OSA numbers (who doesn't know, so these are the Federal Security Service numbers and get them in GIBDD just can't), his son is a billionaire and obviously not because he sang about dinosaurs in his childhood. And if we make analogues, Boyarsky is just the most real musketeer, because he supports the king, spit on the laws and sells himself for guns. Honour, Courage, and Conscience are all of the old books in which Richelieu and Rochefort were the most positive characters ever, thinking about the state, not about themselves. Only understanding comes with age.

Putin has introduced a new bill according to which God does not have the right to send him to hell.

Beliefs are different from ours, we call them errors.

After the wedding, on all my birthday, my aunt constantly gave me that set of kitchen utensils, the tea service for six people. All this she gave me with the words:
“Well, you need a young family, if you don’t like it, give it to your wife.”
I won’t say it annoyed me so much, but I decided to mock her a bit in response, and gave her a set of screws for her anniversary with the words:
“If you don’t like a gift, give it.”
The rays of hatred from my aunt’s eyes almost burned me through. Since then, she has stopped giving any kitchen utensils.

The man who promised not to raise taxes for small, not to change the Constitution, not to raise the retirement age, the people promised lifelong security guarantees and the seat of a senator.

I had one tourist who was always late and the whole bus was waiting for her. Once again I found her, I drive her to the bus and I say, you understand how the whole bus is angry with you? What she answered:

I am a lonely woman, for me negative attention is also attention!

Xxx: You stand, you do, you smoke, you look at the night sky and you think: the space above you is so huge that you are in the background of it - a bacterium simply. Moreover, this space is filled with billions of fireballs around which sometimes rotates stone or gas balls. They are mostly empty and there is no life on them. There may be somewhere, but it is such a shit rarity that nihua is not a pattern, but rather a statistical anomaly.



All this incredible machina is constantly changing, moving, and you in it are just a coincidence. The mouth of moisture. It’s funny, but yes, it’s from humidity. You and your entire human civilization are a mistake of nature. And your planet, too, because there are very few such planets. And the systems that are there.



99 whole and you know how many hundred percent of the space of the universe is not adapted for you. You will die there without delay. There is a vacuum, there is no ambient temperature, there is gamma-alpha-beta radiation. There are blue supergiants that emit so much energy that you can shake it out by just imagining it. There are black holes inside which singularity, which is generally a mathematical abstraction. There are distances at which the question "how far?" The question is “how long ago?” This is not all for you. This is the most hostile environment to your weak body.



You will also die. Zhvanetsky has recently died, Jigarhanyan has died and you will die. And soon that there are still years 50-60 in the best case. This is a moment for the universe. Don’t wait for it, it was cancelled. Of course, there is no God. And this world does not exist for you – otherwise it would not have been so arranged. And there is no meaning either – the universe does not understand the word “meaning.” She is not able to understand at all. You could have died ten years ago. I could never be born. That would not change anything.



Someone is creating art. It drives science. It enters its name into history in other available ways. Whoever is unable to do so (and most of them) simply gives birth to children and says that this is the main meaning of life. To appear, to exist for a moment, to “appear” the next one, that he too would exist for a moment. And all this carousel without meaning, purpose and any other high and noble vector.



And you start clinging to all kinds of religions, theories, ideas. Because in the form in which it all seems to be without them, it is heroic somehow. So much to get out of the balcony. The heights should be enough. Does it make sense to pull? To pull, to suffer, to grieve, to worry about all the shit.



And you say to yourself that it is not possible that the very existence of reason is accidental. Or maybe it was just for that? Well, how does a chemist mix large amounts of reagents to get a small sediment – so does the universe? It is such a big cage, and we are the same precipice? Well, not myself, of course, but life in general. A unique hernia. And then you kill the fly and you understand - but for her, it's just over. and? What would be the meaning of her, flies, life? No in anything.



And we too. We build, we develop, we fight, we heroize, we experience emotions, we write, we draw, etc., and then a few hundred years have passed. Oh, it turns out about us in a history textbook - one small page and then 80% shit. Oh, again, and a couple of thousand years have passed – that is, we are now an extinct civilization?! What about our values? What about our unique culture? In the sense of a beer bank and a fantasy from the Gondon in the museum - all that remains?!! Oh, again, and the sun is already shining. Or a meteorite. And there is nothing left. As if it did not exist.

The girl with the light bullets didn’t touch me at five, seven, nine, as did the brutal fairy tales of the makeup brothers.

But the encyclopedia about the space of the years at seven on the unfortunate brain of such a shock suggested that I was hysterical in the blanket, and the whole family reassured me.

Yyy: The existential crisis, how small are we in the universe?

Xxx: It all started with the fact that the sun will one day burn, swell, and then crumble into a dwarf. I was extremely upset, and then my aunt, trying to encourage me, said that by this moment we will all die for many thousands of years.

Well, then it came to pass that the land was a kajak, and we were a kajak, and we were flying, the hell knows where, like a bunch of dust and it became scary.

My mother was a well-deserved donor of our country. Her blood was quite rare - 4 groups. Once, I remember, she was even sent by helicopter at night to some small town to rescue a child.

Parents always joked about the topic that my mom has the fourth blood group, and my dad has the first.

So here.

At a biology class at 7 a biologist offered to donate a drop of blood in order to determine the group. I was not scared, and it turned out that I had 4 groups, like my mom. It was also revealed (from the table) that parents with 1 and 4 blood groups cannot have a child with 4 blood groups.

I went home and began to torture my parents about who my real dad and mom are.

The parents were in shock, there was a small scandal. DNA testing was not as available then as it is now.

My father was sent to donate blood.

He has two blood types.

Everyone breathed out with relief.

And who only appoints these rogue governors?

Simple and genius.

Approximately once a week a friend recruits a team of young guys to unload/load cars in the warehouse. He is given a certain amount, he recruits three from the category of 25-30 years and five 16-17, because among them there are more willing (and they are willing to work for a smaller amount). Also sometimes among them appears a young girl, looking like the same 16 years old. Not to say that she has a strong body, but tries to work equally with everyone, except that she is usually left with lighter objects. I once after loading asked her what motivated her to go here, because the girls are not especially in the loads. It turned out that the organizer himself offered it to her, and also paid up as the senior age category. I did not ask a friend about this, but a few weeks later I noticed one pattern, and then I got to it.

In general, in those days when this girl comes out, the performance of teenagers increases almost twice, and the team takes 40 minutes less time to work. Great, and most importantly, everyone is happy.

I’m embarrassed to ask... After Miller and Sechin extremely effectively drove Gazprom and Rosneft to huge losses, the world’s oil and gas outlets will craving these two titans a little less? Can they cut their salary?

The year 1998. I serve in the ranks of the Russian Federation. Despite the title of ordinary, I go to the guard as a breeder, because of the excellent knowledge of the statutes (including the charter of the guard service). In the night from 8 to 9 May we enter the guard.With us, the beggar, which has the main commandment for the hourly nihuy, to fool, not to do without my knowledge. All emergency situations are to the guard, I decide and give the teams." Whoever in his previous years of service in another part of somebody there was fucking wrong, we did not get into it. At our facility at the 3rd post, most of it is not covered with a fence, but simply hangars with substance content and tanks with GSM on the bank of the river. At 22 a.m., a call to the guard "comrade senior officer, civilians burn a fire near the GSM, what to do? In the GHS they shouted, “Go away, they don’t leave, the faces show.” Nakhar told me to take a wake-up change and run away from these fools.

We take, we run. There is already a fairly drunk company of a few girls and young guys.  I explain to them that there are no fires to burn here. “Forgive us” is the softest thing I’ve heard. I begin to explain in their language. And then one of the guys starts rolling out a machine at me. Some of his friends are starting to crack around us. My guards are behind, I can’t see them. I try to knock my visavi several times with my boots in my knees, in my mouth, judging by the yield, I hit a couple of times and the grip weakens. I pull out the machine and, overturning the closet, I shoot into the sky. Those who were around me shake away, and one of those who remained sitting, pulls out of my sinuses a trunk and shoots me several times. At the same time, I open a large brick-selling holding, and, turning toward it, I squeeze the rope. He spreads his head like a rotten cockroach. The prisons lie behind and my guards put the company on the ground, and I throw the machine, I sit next to it and smoke without stopping one by one until they come to me from the garrison. As it turned out, his trunk was gas, in the evening air, but on the nerve you can't figure out. What he expected is unclear. I dreamed of him many years later. I can say it alive and have not seen it, but with a deformed head, I will not forget it. When my father died, I stopped dreaming. Today I dreamed again. And I want to say to him, go fuck, fool.

To tell an idiot that he is wrong is like telling a macac about the benefits of speaking apart.

Women decide everything. A private school, a kindergarten, a preparatory group. A conversation between two girls: Masha (from a good medical family) and Leila (from a good businessman-Muslim family).
Layla: Masha, I’ll grow up and get married to Sasha, I like him!
Masha: No, I will marry him, we have agreed a long time ago. We’ve been friends with him since birth, and our mothers too.
“Masha, it’s not a problem, you’ll be the first wife and I’ll be the second.
Masha thinks, in her head clearly goes fermentation on the subject: and what, so can? Then he says, yes, I agree so much!
I intervene in the conversation: girls, and you asked Sasha, what does he think?
Masha and Leila choir: No! And then surprised: why?! to