The law is one for all, another for some.

Beginning of two thousand. Grandma comes home from the store. Winter and evening. A woman in a nork hat comes to meet her. Suddenly, a 20-year-old man approaches a woman and breaks off her hat. He started running to the side of his grandmother, and that was his big mistake. The grandmother met an ugly stroke of a cat, full of canned food, on the head. They took off the hat, the men ran, turned the robber, called the police. Grandma was 73 years old, retired major, veteran of the Ministry of Internal Affairs.

Everything that doesn’t kill us...mutes and will try to kill us again.

To distort history, you must at least know it.

The Twin Age has arrived. An era, an era, a monstrous, powerful generation of twins and ignorants. No, they were before, but a few years ago they didn’t get so much in the eye. I was ashamed of his illiteracy. Now that feeling is everywhere.
They are popular. The illiterate stars. Language leaders of opinion. Unable to bind two words to the legislators of fashion.
All of these people who can’t understand the difference between “sitting” and “sitting”. Those who say “I think what.” They say “coordinate” together “cardinal” – apparently, and Richelieu in their version was “coordinate”. Those who say “I showed myself” or “I was disappointed.” They can’t forget the nightmare word “in general.” And others, many others.
They are no longer ashamed of anything.
Bloggers are illiterate. Bloggers generally succeeded in the short time of their existence to make all possible mistakes and cover themselves with any known shame, so that the word "blogger" in our society bears a disregarding-unserious shade. Against the backdrop of ponts, self-loving, theft, screws of subscribers, frank rudeness, stupidity and bitterness, some kind of illiteracy no longer looks like a defect.
But illiteracy has already penetrated the holy of the saints – in the media. The place that lasted the longest. Where there should be at least some editorial, at least some second look. No is. The editors themselves don’t know what. And fashion magazines, no – solid political publications seriously discuss the issue of the “receiver of the President”, although the word “receiver” is, rather, something from radio science, unlike the word “successor”, which is written and read in a different way.
Everyone cares about literacy. to all. No refreshment, no fresh look. The poster with Nurtas Adambay’s film claims to be “Nurtas Adambay’s film” — although the surname “Adambay” is perfectly inclined, just as well as Hemingway. But only in one case - when it comes to the male character. If it was a film of some Nurhul Adambay, then it’t have been. They don’t understand the difference, they don’t understand.
Illiteracy is everywhere and in everything. Study everywhere. These ignorants are leaders of opinion. Bloggers are popular bloggers. Non-teachers give interviews and teach others to live. People who have not learned themselves are teaching others. Time is over, god.
And here I know exactly what the reason is. These people didn’t read when they were children, and they don’t read now. And I know exactly what to do about it. I know how illiteracy is treated. If it were my will, I would have gathered all these fashion magazine editors in one place. All these bloggers. These illiterate journalists.
All these writing people, who can not be allowed to the gunshot to the text. All these young and bold. I would gather it and make it read. Not reading magazines. Not the blogs. Not fashion writers, not some foolish Coelho, not some popular Harari, who under the guise of revelation publishes a nightmare scientific nonsense.
No is.
Czechoslovakia would be read by me. Chekhov by Anton Pavlovich. Per then they would have learned that this is the nightmare construction of the phrase "crossing the restaurant threshold, there is a feeling that you are at home" (the real phrase, from the Kazakh fashion magazine) - so here, this construction of the phrase is called "anakoluf", and it was the first that Chekhov ruthlessly spotted. And that feeling crosses the restaurant’s threshold, not you, the duo.
of Chechov. by Tolstoy. Shakespeare in the translation of Pasternak and Pasternak himself. and Caverine. by Dombrovsky. by Bunina. Here is who.
I would have forbidden them from entering the internet in principle. Until they can properly apply “seat” and “seat”. Ten times out of ten. Some probably’t ever be able to do that – but for such people, getting out of the internet is only a benefit.
Yes, I would do exactly that. It is a pity that this is hardly possible.
Erzhan Yeshimkhanov

It is surprising how quickly the willful, honest, open face on the election posters of the candidate changes to the sleepy, indifferent, lulling face of the current deputy.

Xxx: Our commercial director does not drink alcohol. Nothing stronger than kefir.

Ten years ago, he had a funny case with a subtext.

He comes home from the next "negotiations", drunk to the state of "already wood, but at least not raw." To sleep on the couch in the living room, and wake up from a strong blow to the back.

In the tomb. He hits the cover, it rises, but immediately falls back. The Oret.

In short, waking up his wife and son, they observe how the father of the family in a mint shirt lies under the coffee table, pushes him up and worships with a good mate that he is alive and does not need to be buried.



Yyy: One day, a friend of mine got sick, came home and fell asleep. When I woke up in panic, I thought I was blind. Then he recalled that he decided to look at the telecar before going to bed and, so that the picture did not double, without coming up with anything better, glued one eye to the isolate.



Zzz: My friend and I once sat down, drank wine, and I stayed with her overnight. I get up in the morning, I open my eyes, and everything is like a fog, the vision is like I look at the world through the bag. I was frightened, I thought well, here I was in trouble, got drunk. I went to wash, and I see that I forgot to remove the lenses for the night. However, after their removal, the full vision returned in two hours. But I was terrified, I thought I would be blind first, and then I would die.

Vegetarians say we eat animal bodies. They eat the bodies of plants.

Problems and relationships with the surroundings. I went to a psychiatrist and received 5000 rubles. He explained everything very clearly, placed on the shelves. Give a universal recipe - send everyone and everyone in the ass. Then he said:
- To fix it would need to go for a few more receptions (type, for 5000).
Thank you, I’ve learned everything. Go to shit.

The most offensive thing in Russian sport is when you suffer for athletes, you suffer, and they in 10 years the idiotic laws are adopted.

A friend at work one day began broadcasting with the appearance of a Messiah:

- I tell you, some hormones are added to female diets or something like that!

They ask him, why did you get it? And he says this:

My deodorant was over, and I couldn’t afford to buy it. I borrowed it from my wife for that time. And when I started using them all the time, my breasts started to grow!

I couldn’t stand it, I answer him, that his breasts didn’t grow from a deodorant, but from beer with a smoked roll, which he in a recent vacation chewed in liters and ate in kilograms. So he took and offended me because I did not take his warnings seriously.

And only one of his young colleagues approached him quietly to ask, "What deodorant does his wife use?"

Not a fool, but a man with a basic mental setup.

I traveled by train in Russia in the mid-1990s. The neighbor offers a drink, somehow he so well served everything: a bottle of good vodka, snack, snack.
I answer: I am a rather unprincipled person, but I have three rules. I don’t drink until noon, I don’t drink with strangers, I don’t drink in moving transport.

The man lost all interest in me, just looked out the window and did nothing.

It was twenty or thirty minutes. The crew crashed into the perron of a large station and stopped. The man immediately revived, looked at the clock (there was something like 12:07) and extended my hand:

and Nicholas!

The storm! There will soon be a storm!
Catch him guys. Tell your grandmother about the reader’s contest, an extremist fuck. Let me tell you this is a weather forecast.