Years ago, I used to do some kind of programming, for little things, for myself, as a hobby. Even took a modest part in the development and Russification of one of the Linux distributors... He was then on the near-Linux forums almost outright.

How long, or briefly, I needed one day to recall my youth and draw a small script for a purely special task. Painted, started and set off. It seems to work. I was delighted: there is, there is more powder! I start again - some nonsense at the exit.

I begin to hide and understand that there is one procedure in the script that, for reasons I do not understand, then works as it should, then does not work at all, and what it depends on, it is difficult to understand. Most importantly, I understand that I’ve seen this before, but I don’t remember where and for what reason. So the solution definitely exists.

I started digging the internet. On the fifth or sixth page of Google I find a very similar case, on some Linux forum someone with a strange nick describes exactly the same problem and gives a solution, but it is hidden under the headset. And I remember that forum and even was there registered, well, I think now I will restore the password and look at everything I need. I open my archive with all the passwords, there is no forum there for some reason. I recorded at the time. Okay, we will act differently, we will make a password recovery to the mail. I enter one of my emails, not in the forum database, the second, the same result, the third. Also by the way. I try to remember what kind of mail I had then and I am falling. I was then a little paranoid and used different mailboxes for different purposes, respectively, and the nics were also different and the passwords too. For safety, you know. Everything is serious.

I get the outer, on which I have stored an ancient mammoth shit, I begin to shake it. and bingo! The necessary soap is there, though not immediately. I log in and restore access to the forum.

I go over to the message. My nose under the headset. There is written:

"This procedure on fast machines does not always work correctly, and sometimes the variable is zeroed to correct it, after the procedure it is necessary to put a pause of 500ms. In this case, everything works as it should.”

What a familiar decision. I look at this friend’s nick, and that’s me.

My friend’s husband brought from fishing still live caras and put them in the refrigerator. And they were there fighting so hard that the thunderstorm on the whole kitchen stood. The girlfriend could not withstand, released them into the basin with water and began to wait for their natural death. And one carousel did not want to die. Then the friend’s husband told Karasu that if he survived that night, he would survive. And early in the morning he carried him a few kilometers back to the river. On the shore, on the question of another fisherman, this hero replied, "I promised him!"

Families gathered for the second child, told how they went to the nursery for the first time.

They live alone, young lovers. The caring husband very carefully gathered his wife to the hospital. All provided, and warm things, and hygiene, and about stock something collected, and to eat a young mother, things got a lot. The fighting began, the ambulance arrived, the husband pulls everything into the car, bags, bags, loaded under the bandage.

The doctor standing next to the car looks closely at it and says:

Will you take her back?

Strawberries are a very strong drug. If you strangely bind with the mess, then the muscles begin to hurt heavily.

Following hot tracks

Last Saturday, singer Valery Meladze, disagreeing with the new restrictive rules for artists (introduced due to the coronavirus) proposed to his colleagues - to boycott the shooting of the New Year's show.

“Imagine if you turn on the TV on New Year’s Eve, and there is no New Year’s light, no music, no entertainment program. If our work is prohibited by restrictive measures, we are prohibited from taking part in New Year’s shootings. I think it would be correct to adhere to these rules and to all artists to give up shooting in New Year’s programs,” Meladze said.

However, he pointed out in an interview with journalists, it was a hypothetical proposal.

"It is clear that there will be New Year's programs: it is impossible to deprive the audience of some joy," the singer summed up.

So maybe just the opposite, the absence of such programs will give at least some joy to the audience on the New Year’s Eve.)))

How did you manage to lose so much weight?
I switched to proper nutrition, sports twice a day, massage with anti-cellulite cream, walks in the fresh air...
What kind of cream?

It was during my student time. Standard morning trip by bus. When paying for the trip, I understand that there is only a large note (rubies 500 where that, for the student, the amount is significant) I show the conductor, he suggested that he will take it, and as the delivery will be suitable. I already did so, I saw no problem in this and agreed, especially my route was from one end of the city to the other, will have time to collect.

My main task is not to forget. He sat down on a free seat, got his headphones, and... turned off for 20-30 minutes exactly (the trip was long).

When I woke up with fresh thoughts, I had forgotten what I was supposed to give.

Here and my stop is seen, as in nothing I get out of the bus, and I see the picture as the conductor looks at me in the trail, and here to me comes that my money was crying)) the state number did not even remember.

I understand that it makes no sense to run behind the bus, left for his affairs, and thought that today a happy day with the conductor may be (the city millionaire, the chances are zero on the same bus route to get)

Then, over the course of the day, he was still traveling by bus, on other routes, but was already on check.

And by evening it happened that I had to sit on the same route, but in a completely different place. Not paying attention to Mr. The number, the color of the bus, I sit in it, and I see the same conductor! And he remembered me, did not turn on the fool, but approached and gave the delivery, taking into account the real trip, I thanked him for his honesty)

As long as I was driving, the smile from my face did not pass the whole journey.

Xxx: I really don’t understand what the hunt is.

A friend says, “I recently bought a new gun for 200 thousand, I’ll go to Teterev.”

I think it’s somewhat too fat for Teterev.

If you have a gun for 200 knives, you have to go, at least, to Baskov.

If you have 200 thousand, why kill the teterev?

You can hire a killer who will kill the teterev.

And he will not just kill the teterev, but will do everything as if it was suicide.

And the tetereva will then be found in a cheap hotel room, around a package of tablets and a note with the text: "Barbara, I have done all this, there is no longer the strength to pay the loan for our double."

The more you save on education and culture, the more you cost the maintenance of the police, security guards, prisons and other public that is useless for the future of the country.

I was standing in China near a coffee shop, waiting for a girlfriend. It’s cold, it’s raining, I’ve forgotten my jacket, my phone is discharged, my girlfriend is late and I don’t know when she’s coming, I don’t know Chinese — in general, the whole set. I stand on the nerves, I eat from the cold, as suddenly a guy barista comes out and quietly stretches me latte. I hesitated at the wallet, but he only nodded his head, turned me a glass, smiled and went on to work. No names, no dialogue, only a minute episode, but I still remember that delicious coffee.

Where is our elite infected? He does not use public transportation and does not go shopping. There is only one explanation: the waiters spit them in the food.

In the 11th grade we walked around the city. Beer and good weather. I met a company of girls. A beautiful woman looked, even a little fighting because of her with another applicant.

In the evening, as a real gentleman, he led the lady to the house. We are somewhere in the south of Moscow, in the Mariino area. I understand that my parents will most likely be excited if I go home late. But there is nowhere to retreat. Go to the metro:

Where do you live? Where are we going?

to the grandmother.

I live nearby too!

The cards go well! So, she lives nearby or in the neighborhood, I’ll get home quickly if anything. I don’t give the kind.

Going to Grandma. She is:

Oh router, let’s go down!

I’m in a bit of a shock because we’re sitting in the 46-way that’s going straight to my house. Bollywood goes to the end. We go out.

So where is your home?

Van is across the road.

It points to my house. I am already looking for a puddle. I think the comrades may have touched, and that’s a joke.

Let us go. We approach the entrance, of course, to mine. And then I walk the horse, and I open the housephone with my key!

The girl is in shock. In the eyes of admiration and probably a lot of fear.

In general, it turned out that she lives on 2 floors below, moved a few years ago. I haven’t seen her all the time, maybe I just didn’t pay attention. The house is high, there are many apartments in the entrance.

This is a million chance. At the other end of the multi-million city to meet a girl from your entrance!

Humanity will end when artificial intelligence becomes curious.

The investment office. Accept the money of clients, invest in various shares. In the state, of course, highly intelligent stock exchange analysts.
The office at the company without searches is open. Only the head of the office. In the corner of the opena sits a middle-aged uncle, covered with mountains of pots. This is Alexander Dmitrievich (uncle Sasha, Sanechek-for old workers, Mitrich for a couple of bosses), archivary. All the documents come together with him, he also takes them up from the archive if necessary. Quiet and insignificant officer. He worked in those times when there was no archive, and the firm under another name traded something widely used.
Bitcoin is growing! He joyfully proclaims Michael. Young but promising. Start of. Department of Currency. It is growing, sweetheart. “Misha believed in this bitcoin like an angel in heaven. Mining is arranged. Everybody’s ears burst, some people get involved.
It was winter 2017. The bit coin flew as if Shrek had a pencil attached to it.
by Herr Michel. A voice came from the archive corner. I want to sell my bitcoins.
Do not get mad, uncle. He is growing! Wait until next year - we will earn millions.
and Misha. The archivist repeated. I want to sell my bitcoins now. After all, I act now as a customer and can decide where to invest my money!
“Alexander Dmitrievich, I repeat, this is a wrong decision.
and KMs. Should I go to Vasily Konstantinovich?
You are making a terrible mistake! It really hurt Michele. You will see!
I want to sell my bitcoins. Half of the currency is converted to British pounds and half to yuan.
The old fool. I broke Misha. Heavenly, the copper pencil remembers. What’s not in the pocket is, like, not his. Let’s see how you bite.
Prior to the NH, uncle Sasha had time to invest his prize in some Canadian shares, offending even the special Nadjenka.

A new year. The date changed the tail from 7 to 8.

On the day the all-powerful bitcoin collapsed into a boring shit, Herr Michel became the color of his shirt – white. The office whispered, looking into the corner. Michael came out of the chief’s office, where he had just been placed a telegraph column.
The Uncle! The unfortunate broke up, extending his hands to heaven. How did you know it was speculation? You are not an expert or an analyst.
On the principle of drought. Sanchez answered indisputably.
Explain to.
See also Mr. Michael. After the army I had three years to work as an assistant driver in my hometown. So, I know for sure, if the shit came out of the pit, when there should be no more than half there, it is a bad thing to argue about all kinds of high matters. Just a bit of shit threw a pack of yeast there. Here is the market – if something goes up from this or that – look for speculation. Spekulation only benefits my pocket. And so with everything – stocks, currencies, promises, prices... Don’t be upset, Gerr Michel. There are no mistakes. Everybody gets hit someday.
And you got caught?
My uncle breathed.
I married so.

Zhirinovsky complained that Zhvanetsky was buried at the Novodevichy cemetery and in general, there are too many artists, and there are no deputies. Totally agree with him! I wish there were more deputies, and Zhvanetsky would be alive.

And my colleague is sure that if she is shed black blood, she will have black children.

YYY: Hey... well, it’s important that the husband believes... ?

XXX: Weekday at 10 a.m. A neighbor knocks on the door and wakes a woman (55 years old). I dress up and ask what happened. He does not show a cable TV, asks to check if it works at us. I check, we are okay. I say call the provider, they will help, he replies - "I called, they said they turned off because of debt, I just thought maybe everyone doesn't work."

What, why why why

It is sad to realize this, but the small amount of "free and high-quality medical care" due to me under the new amendments to the Constitution, I will only be able to obtain from a pathologist in the foreseeable future.

My police are taking care of me.
Just the militia.
This happened about 1982. In the summer I was sent from my village to my grandmother in the city. They handed me over and I became a temporary city resident. Everything is interesting... trolley buses, trams (I’ve only seen them in the letter before). I met some local guys. They were a few years older than me at the time. I didn’t say I was seven at the time. I don’t remember exactly, but somewhere. And here is the police, ask you, and here’s what happened. These guys invited me to ride the tram. I only saw it in books. I have agreed. I remember how the rails were touched by the foot, not if it was driving, and the ear was placed to them. have waited. They went. They arrived. Where is HS. But I trusted them...in vain. They started running for some columns, I, thinking that this was a game, ran after them, had fun, laughed. But somehow they disappeared. and all together. I did not realize it immediately, but when it came to me that I was alone, somewhere in the city, how, where, where, what? Panic began here. No to panic! I sat down at the nearest pillar and cried. And what else to do was to a 7-year-old child who knows where he is and where to go.
It began to dark. The Twilight. Since the time was July-August, it was already midnight. How long I sat there, I don’t know. I do not remember. From the thoughts of starving death, a woman’s voice drew me. He asked something.
There was a girl in front of me. in a military form. I, remembering all the stories of my parents that if you behave badly, then a uncle - a police officer will take you, I again racked up. I didn’t want to fall into the hands of the evil uncle – the police officer. But there was a tall (when you are 7 years old - all tall), a slim, cute girl. Even in military form.
Once reassured, I took her into the car and went to the department. And in my head all the thoughts - they were arrested, now they will be taken to jail and I will not see my grandmother and parents. But maybe the transmissions will be carrying – sending... (the books started. I’ve read Maynard and Jules Verne with an inch. But in that situation they did not help. What a fucking thing.) is
When I arrived at the police station, I found that the tears had not yet ended and I cried again. Now they go to jail and see. and above. But that aunt-military officer once again reassured me, asked where I live, but I don’t know... I said that I came to visit my grandmother. More precisely, they brought. And so everything calmly, polite, served candy, asked where, from where. I don’t know the address. He said that in the village, 50 km. from the city. What would you think? They drove me to Wasik and brought me home. at 4 o’clock at night. I slept all the way (maybe not, but I don’t remember it). I remember lying on the back seat. My head was on her feet. Aunt of Military. I was so calm. Here I realized that the militia not only puts people in jail, but also helps people! Since then I have ceased to fear the police.
"Imagine the kindness of parents, when at 4 a.m. the police give them a half-sleeping child, who, having seen familiar landscapes, immediately crushed. It seemed to be the tension of the day. When my grandmother called me and told me I was alive, I don’t remember. (But the next time I came to my grandmother, I didn’t see those mosquitoes again.)
Who the police officer is, I don’t know. It inspired me in faith in people. It’s been 40 years, and I remember it.
Happiness and joy to you!
and all.

The best stories are porn movies. There are no explosions, murders, everyone loves each other, kisses wherever they get and always have a happy ending.