In a world where everything is built on the cult of money, to prohibit officials from stealing?! It is easier to walk to the moon.

YYY: A stranger has already been there. The same there too...

Reality prompts some fucking quests: just: I go along the path, some old man comes to meet and stretches a rod and a bag "support, dear man". I take the items, the old man turns around and repeating something in the spirit of "well you forgive if anything"references right on the road. Upon finishing this case, he turns back and says: "Thank you, man. The Knight. The Count. by MILLORD. All of the stuff" is taken away.

The task accomplished.
A new level is obtained: "the knight, the count, the lord and the whole hunt"

The weight of doctrine is temporary, the weight of ignorance is forever.

The 90s. After the army, in search of my solstice under the sun, I went to France to try myself in the Foreign Legion. There were not so many people from the USSR, but there was always someone with whom you could translate a few words on the great and powerful. After training, I and two other guys were given instructions at a company located in another city. But something was confused in the office and we had to wait for the evening waiting for the morning train at the local station.

All three turned out to be Russian-speaking: Misha-Belarus was a two-meter giant with a figure under the name, red Chechen Marat, well, and actually I. We were not given a suck, but we wanted to eat and drink even more. The railway stations in Europe are poor – neither cafes nor shops, only a couple of virtually empty shopping machines. The security guard found out where the night brewery is, where they went, capturing the last couple of bottles of beer from the station machine. Find the address quickly. Misha pulled an open bottle of beer into the chest of an Arab coming out of the door with incomprehensible French inscriptions, and asked, "paria, allo, bar here?" The Arab was confused and rushed back to the door, from where he returned in 10 seconds with a crowd of crazy compatriots.

The bar, the bar spotted the bearded natives, surrounding us with a crowd. It doesn’t seem to be a bar, Marat said, and at the same moment he was hit in the head by a hand stretched out from the second row of Arabs. We were hit from all sides and if possible, we would probably get away, but the narrow French streets are very contrasting with the width of the Russian soul, you will not be able to move on a tank here. had to beat.

We were able to beat. "To die from the hand of the Arab copters is boring" on the move, O. Bender Mish translated and as if the cartoon giant Balu distributed opleuches to the Arabs. The Arabs flowed through the river and divided around Misha, lying on the left and on the right. When I saw in front of my face the fall of the perfect monkey's cries, shaken by anger, I forcefully directed a fist at her. The mouth crumbled and disappeared. The Arabs whispered and continued to come out of the door of the institution. The forces were not equal. But here, with the scream "The Russians do not surrender", the Chechen successfully put a pipe, removed from the wall, in the most dense of the black brotherhood. The crowd was sharply halved. Someone locked behind the door, and the rest walked through the street.

It was a wonderful hunt. The street became more and more like the bed of bearded cats. But all the good ends once notified us on both sides of the street sirens of police cars. Carefully walking and, possibly, crossing the Arabs crawling on the shovel, we approached the patrol car. The gendarmes relaxed. With the smiles of the Zen, they watched the battlefield, where the compatriots who were forced to weep and cry in blood and spots.

After brief explanations, we were released, leading us to the other side of the building where the bar was actually located. At the farewell, the gendarme laughed and said, "And there, you no longer go - there the Arabs have a 24-hour library."

Living in the forest among wild animals, Pyatchok built an ideal scheme of personal safety. He ran quickly, was prudently thin, had a bear in his friends who loved honey more than pork, the only one in the woods was armed with a rifle and could fly away on a balloon at the shocher.

The Flower Day

What a nice boy you have!
This is a girl! She is in a dress!
But in the blue!

(The unimaginable dialogue)

Twenty years ago, a calendar for rural areas with a candidate’s biography was printed at some governor’s elections. It was written in the genre of "soppy in sugar" and began as follows: "Born in 1958 in a working family. My father died in the war.”

“No weapons, no hatred, no cruelty”

The Frenchman who admitted in the book of "the robbery of the century", stood before the court
......

The Societe Generale bank robbery in 1976 became legendary in France.
The robbers entered the warehouse through an eight-meter tunnel.
which was removed from the channels.

The thieves were impressed by their scale. The tunnel was drilled for several weeks, strengthening
its walls with concrete and installing lighting. The robbers moved to
The rubber boats. In order to open the bank cells, the robbers took about 30 people with them.
Balloons with acetylene and burners. Criminals were caught in the warehouse on Friday, July 16, and
For several days, cells with values were devastated. About 50 million were stolen.
Francs (approximately 24 million euros in today’s money).

On July 20, the robbers left the bank with money and valuables.
Arriving police found a note containing words in the warehouse.
“No weapons, no hatred, no cruelty.”
...

First comment to the article:

I am also a thief of the century.
The fund of capremont in the Russian Federation is the robbery of the century.

What is the use of fighters? What they produce?

About the same thing that the needles of the wild produce - not a lot of hunters bite off his butt, you can not worry a lot about their hospitals, schools and factories.

Mistakes in Advertising:
“Rental of non-residential premises!”

Not to say that I have been working this way for a long time in life, but in 17 years I understood one thing. It works in 100% of cases with any director. If he stood up, congratulated the NG and sat down, then everything went wrong. It will be the thirteenth, evil and wickedness. If he started smashing the pink slugs about “We’re all one team, we have to get even stronger, work even harder, because it’s our common affair, I love everyone as brothers and sisters. We are a family of...blablable". All the naked. Money is not, Oleg(s) is called Sit and rejoice with the family, fuck.

My husband grew up in a family where there were never any pets, and I was an avid cat. For a long time asked the kitten, which always received the same answer, that, say, there will never be cats in our house, never, and for nothing, and if there is, then they will not sleep in cages, exclusively on the carpet near the threshold, and in general... cats is unhygienic, impractical and unnecessary. But the Russians did not give up, she connected her daughter, in general, we reached him, and for the New Year, we had this miracle... on their head.
I will not stop on how on the first day he sat on the floor half a day near the couch and watched the cat sleep on his favorite pillow, which we and his daughter categorically cannot touch, how he screams on me in the morning, that he should sleep more carefully, because I shake my legs and slide the blanket from it, as he blasphemes that I am not feeding on schedule and in general in the menu today she has a chicken (he is hanging on the refrigerator for a week), and I fooled the fish, as she was wearing at night as an electric wheel, grabbed with a knife on the carpet and on the turn stumbled into a cradle, and it is my fault because I turned off for the night, and she was dark, so she spotted and fell. I will tell you the last one.
Yesterday we argue, I am in the fire: “Yes, I have your priorities somewhere at the cat’s level.” He said indignantly, “How could you think like that – I’m hiding it, he continues – where you are, and where the cat is!”

Lovers of historical anecdotes:

Now you will all die.
Pushkin did not have a talent for mathematics from the word "totally", but he perfectly mastered iterative method.
He used it to polish the word, not knowing how it was called.
In black it is well seen.
Yes, he had an instrument from the exact science, and in all other things alien to him, in the application to the humanities. And it worked not only great, but at the level of “our all.” And that’s clearly his personal trait, I don’t think he was taught that.
So talent does not just happen to everyone to different things, it also has its own form, often very bizarre.
— — — —

Yes is? Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin received a very good education, and there is no doubt that along with the knowledge useful in practical life, knowledge, obviously not in demand, played a huge role in the formation of his general educational base and worldview. The poet’s interests were diverse. Peter Andreevich Vyazemsky wrote about Pushkin that he was passionate about the natural sciences and especially mathematics, which were the most important capital of his knowledge, and were to the end a favorite subject of his studies and deep research.
In general, no problem, there are only talents and cheeks around.

Today in the group about sharks found a genius:
Shark (even the big white) attack those who are smaller than themselves. Of the two potential victims, she chooses the smaller one. So hold on to children, lean people, or take a dog to swim with you. The most effective way.

An intelligent aunt in her years speaks on the phone on the street: “Yes, lol, here, lol, you imagine...”
Only 50 meters later came to me that the interlocutor’s name was Lola.

The head of the Russian Railway, Oleg Belozerov, in an interview with the corporate newspaper "Gudok" regretted the fact that the company still operates cars with non-modern toilets of the "gravity type".

Is there an anti-gravity toilet?
Is it all shit back in the rod?
Why is it in Rojo? :)

One friend told me about a well-known office in our region - a producer of sausage products, which is famous for the quality of products. So one of the ways to maintain this quality is chosen as follows: employees start their working day with a dense breakfast, the basis of which is the sausages, sausages, sardines, which they themselves made yesterday. The idea is that the workers will not do it, sorry, because they themselves will have to do it later. And the idea works: sausages get what they need.

Any device that works poorly, after eliminating all its shortcomings ceases to work at all.

fak

It was good in the air, from the very morning the long-awaited winter sun spawned. I was driving in a warm road, listening to music in my headphones, waiting for spring and admired the wet snow forest outside the window. One hour to Moscow, you can have time to sleep. Even the girls — loud whistles, those who sat in front of me, could not hinder, because I have good headphones.

We stopped and got bored on the train. In the neighboring row to the right was a black Porsche Cayenne. Cayenne’s driver, a young, white-haired guy, looked at the advertising inscriptions on the dirty side of our bus, until he met the little girls with his eyes. The guy smiled and very gracefully, with barely noticeable movements of his hands and with a slight tilt of his head, made a reverence, like the king’s most true musketeer. I bet that this guy at the time, studied the stage movement very deeply.

The girls stunned, seemingly, commented somehow and, without speaking, showed a "fake" in response.
The Musketeer made a very sad face, even his lower lip was touchingly shaken. Directly from the air, he snatched an invisible flower, most likely a rose, and the finger was ridiculously “crawled” and threw the flower to the beauty.
The beauties again struck and in turn, already with two hands showed "fake"

The cavalier in Cayen smiled, and in response sent an air kiss. The kiss flew ridiculously throughout the car, until the musketeer opened the fork to let him go. The ladies again stumbled and again showed the “fact”.
The Musketeer laughed amusedly and, suddenly, depicted with his fingers a fast-going man - this meant that he was inviting the girls to his car.

The girls again defiled, but the "fake" did not show, but the gestures asked again, saying - do you really call us or joke?

The guy confirmed, attaching his hands to his huge, beating heart and then the girls decidedly jumped out of their seats and shouted to the driver to open the door, they urgently need to get out here.

The door opened, the girls struck out, at the same time, the motor exploded in the road, because the shlagbaum had already risen in front.

The ladies approached Kajen and knocked at the doors, but the door for some reason did not open, the guy made a sad face, wiped out the invisible tears and in his own manner, showed a very graceful "fak", then gazanul and with a bucket hole disappeared somewhere behind the move.

We also left and only two abandoned girls remained on the road, in the middle of this wet, snowy forest.

What unreliable, these musketeers...

As a child, when I listened to the radio "Mayak", I thought: how they live there in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsk, if they have all the time at midnight.