It seems to me that the spirit of Zhirinovsky has not rested, is mosquitous, trying to settle in Medvedev, then in Rogozin.

The brightest memories of the new year when my mother and sister gathered everything we could, prepared the whole day without bending the New Year's table: salads cottage and so on and came the bulky father, lay on the couch (the table-book already covered stood next door) and specially unfolded it with his leg. Right on the floor. Everything we cooked. All the supplies, salt and even cake. Naoral that wrongly met the feeder and kicked us out into the entrance. Then I went to bed and we stood and it was so bad! I still remember it...I was 10, and my sister was 8. My mom brought me to the neighbors. And that night, honestly, fell out of memory at all. I do not remember what and how we did. I remember only my mother’s guilty face in front of the neighbors and how we woke him up drunk to get home. He closed it from within. And then on January 1, we cleaned everything, tossed and washed...I don’t like holidays. There is no gram of alcohol at my daughter’s holidays. never ever. Now with her I try to make up my childhood.

XXX: It is dangerous to allow associates to come home.  In our town, an old lady regretted a beetle who was sitting on the stairs in the entrance.  He called home and fed me.  He beat, raped and robbed her.



Yyy: “Man for an hour.”

Never say, “I don’t remember from whom I heard...” It is correct to say: “A number of leading experts believe...”

Now many, as in order, began to defame the Bologna system - said, destroyed, malicious, Russian higher education.
Nixon, dear fellow citizens. Russian higher education began to rot even during the Union, and to its collapse it had time to rot very even substantially. Comrade Stalin would have said, it has perished.
I myself am from a family of High School teachers, and I have heard and seen a lot. I remember the stories of the parents about the hurricane with which the gatewalks of trade and food went on to "settle questions" with the success of their sons and daughters. About how those who did not take bribery were pushed aside by the mafia from more rough and less sensitive colleagues. About chiefs of different calibers, who required a diploma or a scientific degree, and who, according to the decree from the rectorate, were placed in the news "excellent", although they were never seen in the eyes.
The collapse of the Union removed all the brakes. If the teacher took money only for an unfortunate assessment, and placed points on his knowledge to a decent student, without demanding a bribe, this was considered "honest". I remember how jealous I was when on the eve of graduation I was offered a postgraduate degree, which meant a future teaching career. “You’re lucky, guy, there in the session THESE grandmothers are raising!“”
I was disgusted. The department turned into a stall where my scientific supervisor remained one of the few decent people. When I refused, he stared at the floor for a while, then just sneered silently. We said goodbye to that.
The feeling of betrayal still doesn’t let me go, although almost thirty years have passed since that conversation. But I understand that I would not be able to hide among those "like-minded people", and sooner than later, I would have plotted with the cathedral and knocked the door.
There is nothing to blame for in the Bologna system. Its introduction was a naive attempt to establish at least some framework of decency in the decaying education system. Which they themselves were deceived long before they even knew about the Bologna system.

Nowadays, these signs will no longer help to identify a madman.
Talking to himself? Maybe he’s just talking on the phone.
It looks strange? Per it just belongs to subculture.
Do you have crazy ideas? Maybe he’s just a member.

The most successful multiplier is the one who does not share with anyone.

I went to Feodosia on a road. I go in, standing next to the driver, holding on to the order. A cute girl comes in. She doesn't have time to get in the route touches, the girl, not holding back, falls all her chest on me. Blowing red and apologizing, she left. She doesn’t have time to get up, the router runs again, the girl falls on me again.
I: Girl, after that you just have to marry me.

The paradox. You should lie to an ordinary person once or twice and you probably won’t trust him anymore. And politicians lie for decades, promising the same thing, and they believe them. is surprising.

The seeds of hatred flow with blood.

Once I was in the subway, in front of it is a girl sitting, in glasses, all so careful, reading a book, you can see immediately - the intelligence. You probably don’t even know what a divorce key is.

The grandfather comes in, the doors are closed, he stands over her for a while, then pins her on her foot with a dirty shoe, and scratches almost the whole car:

If I had respect for someone who is older than you, I would have given up.

The girl looks at him frightened, finally comes back and rises up. Then he said to him:

Respect is the recognition of someone’s positive qualities. I will show compassion.

Nowadays, people have almost learned how to formulate their thoughts.

The Central Bank has allowed Russians to transfer up to $150,000 a month abroad. This measure will not be in words, but in fact will make life much easier for the broad strata of the Russian population.

Yesterday, I go with the bats, I sit on the back, I work, and the back of the shaded glasses, the sun does not shine on the note.

The father stops the haishnik, his question: "There are children", the father: "Yes, from behind." Haishnik, since he does not see what is in the back window, says, "Open the window," the father opens, there I sit (41 years old).

U.S. police brutally beat a Chinese man by asking his name.

“I have lost faith in humanity, freedom and democracy,” said Faq Yu.

A lie may be justified, but it does not become the truth.

What kinds of people you will not find in the cage.
My wife and I arrived a little earlier. We stand by the window, wait for our coach, chew a protein barrel. Nearby, another coach conducts an introductory training for the girl. He laid her a griff on the shoulder and forced her to sit down. And an empty grip, by the way, weighs 20 kilos. How do you get rid of Natasha! Porn stars are nervous about smoking. In short, while she ended up under the barrel, no one was able to work in the hall. Limited to one approach, the coach quickly led the girl to another hall. And my wife pushed my elbow into my side and said with a thoughtful look:
I think she simulated.

We live in a time when smart people are forced to remain silent so that fools are not offended.

When you’ve already said 10 times, 8 times, 5 times, and 4 times, it’s hard, and the colleague still keeps telling you something.

Surprise me and I will stop.

The time.

My father was an automobile amateur. Now, when cars are roughly everybody, this word has lost its meaning, and then it was a fairly rare category of citizens. He started with a motorcycle, after marriage purchased a motorcycle with a wheelchair, and when I was 2-3 years old, they and my mother borrowed money from all relatives and bought a strawberry "Zaporožec".

Almost every weekend we went to my mother’s village. The cars were few, "Zaporožec", trembling and dreezing, carrying at a crazy speed of 70 km / h. The main danger was presented by the locals who suddenly ran out on the road: goats, dogs, boys, and sometimes adults. Every time he saw an obstacle, he pressed the signal, the car was loud and lost speed sharply. Dad said something like, “Ele slowed down,” or “I had to brake again,” or my mom noticed the goat before him and said, “Stumble!” So I learned that “braking” is the same as “bicycling”: in case of danger, you have to press the signal, the car will stumble and stop. The fact that at the same time Daddy still grumbled his foot on some pedal passed past my childhood consciousness.

Sometimes we went shopping “to the area”, that is, to small towns and villages located around our city. There could be bought, for example, socks or balls. In the city, they were quickly dealt with, and the residents of the district had not yet used these innovations, writing with ink and dressing children, including boys, in socks on rubber. Also, we must have bought on the market a briket of butter oil wrapped in a notepad in a cage or line. Milk, kefir, cheese were in the dairy store in the city, and the oil was either absent, or did not satisfy my mom in quality.

I was 5 or 6 years old when we once again came to the area and stopped on the main street. Dad and mom decided to run to the commercial store for a minute, suddenly something was thrown out there, and I was left in the car. As soon as they left, I moved to the driver’s seat and started playing an amateur car.

I remember how it was then appropriate to leave a parked car, on the first transmission or on the manual brake. Anyway, I removed her from this brake, and the car rolled under the hill far across the street. I was terribly scared. He turned back – behind the car, the father ran and shouted desperately: “Tormozi!”

Well, I started to brake the way I imagined it: I pushed with both my hands to the hammer. The car was silent, but for some reason did not slow down at all and finally crashed into a pillar. It was a slight scare, a broken lighthouse and scratches on my nose.

Why didn’t you stop? I asked the escaped father. I screamed to you.
Dad, I stopped it! I answered through tears. I stopped very loudly. But for some reason she did not stop.

More than 50 years have passed. My father has not been alive for a long time. But this expression still exists in our family and in a few friends. When someone tries to correct the situation with actions that can’t affect the situation in any way – for example, drinks fuvlomycin, or screams at a crying child to reassure him – we say to him:
I think you’re braking loud.