After reading a couple of stories from respected vegetarians, I wanted to help them understand why people don’t understand them and treat them unfairly.

I have a friend — a beautiful smart girl, fun and kind.

So she decided to become a respected vegetarian.

And it became.

I became a vegetarian, but not a vegetarian.



Before I was a man, but I became a meat-eater (strange - because she wasn't a herbivore, a fruit-eater, a plant-eater).

I used to have breakfast, lunch and dinner, and now I kill, break, torture.

I used to love animals, but now I hate them.

Previously, we could talk about how spacecraft roam the vastness of the universe, and now everything is reduced to the fact that children have to show pictures of the slaughterhouse from childhood, so that they do not grow up to be brutal murderers.

Previously, taking food, I gained strength, and now digest the body.



In the rest, we communicate as before, only the sediment remains.

The most important thing I almost forgot — I have not even in mind to be interested in how she eats, and discuss it.

Today it’s hard to believe, but in my childhood there were almost no cars on the streets.

In the winter, when we were playing hockey, the gates were installed from a pair of bricks right on the road. And, it happened, we had time to play a few periods before a lonely truck forced us to leave. He passed, we returned to the road and continued the interrupted match.

Some passers tried to convince us that the road was not a place to play, but the smart advice of adults flew past our ears. We had our own reasons: if we do not disturb anyone and nobody disturbs us, then why not? The road is smooth and the ice is good. At that time, the roads were not covered. I will not say for all the roads of the country, my knowledge concerns only one road that ran next to my home.

Then, somewhat unnoticed, civilization entered our small town, the number of cars increased. In the winter, the hockey players did not go out on the road, but cleaned the site in the center of the yard and poured water.

Then the cars became even more, they had little space on the road, they began to drive directly through our courtyard. There were always many children in the yard, so their parents were not without reason concerned about their life and health.

One day, losing patience, the men dug a thick railway in the middle of the road running along the entrances. Entrance and exit remained, but the road ceased to be crossed. Having done the business, the men with a proud look walked around the courtyard, demonstrating who is the master here. Then came a police officer with a police officer. The rail is spinning. For a while, the police sought to find out who had digged him. The men crafted.

When the roadmen and the police officer left, they appeared again in the courtyard, screaming loudly about the self-government of the authorities, promising to dig the rail again, but did not dig in. Probably the rails are over. After some time, the iron back of the bed appeared above the remnants of the spinning rail, the legs of which were firmly cemented.

The passengers came and cleaned their backs. The culprits were searched carefully, found and fined. After that, people began to act more cleverly. As if by chance, there was a concrete block or a massive urn, a pebble, a bunch of sand or an excavated pit in this place of the road.

Then came new times. My family and I moved elsewhere, the revolutionaries bought cars and stopped building barriers on the road. The war ended with the victory of motorists.

I recently walked past, saw in this place a fine metal barrier installed by the road service. It was apparent that he was placed above the splinter. It turns out that the war is not just continuing, the opposing parties have changed targets. Now road drivers are guarding the road, and locals are fighting for free passage.

I went to Peter with my friends.

Walked around the city, walked along the way to the bar, a casual, little cute half-sweet.

There were four of us and one of our three friends was already there.

At one point, I feel like the bartender is communicating with some people and they periodically look at us.

We wait for the disconnection, the tension grows slowly and here they approach and say about the following, the exact text I do not remember: "We have an unusual request to you, please listen to the end. We are shooting small porn videos on orders in the internet and now we need to have sex in the bar, but without visitors it will look unnatural and we will not be paid. We’ll give you beer for inconvenience.”

We agree, we are transplanted, asked not to pay attention and just drink beer and communicate.

Next, the guy wears a Mickey Mouse costume, the girl has a huge spider tail and they fuck on the table.

They paid 150 views for this video.

The order sounded approximately like, “Micky Mouse is fucking the pavilion in front of the whole bar.”

They ordered such shit relatively often.

A cautious man is one who first finds the way out and then the entrance.

It seems to me that Roskomnadzor is in a share with Durov?
When it all started, I knew about Telegram. But I decided to register... Well, so in the peak, you know who. It turned out that of my 127 telephone subscribers, 5 (five) were registered in Telegram.
A week later I received messages from 73 subscribers who signed up for Telegram.

Make a conclusion, gentlemen.

All my money is in the Swiss bank... but unfortunately not on my account, but on the account of our governor.

I went somehow to the Japanese knife store and straight to the vitrine with crafts, wanted such a very, consulted with the sold and asked to give a turn in the hands. Sold, stretching my knife in the knives, said that touching the cutting edge with fingers is not necessary. I immediately touched. “How you beat me!” - said sold, stretching a sterile towel and wiping out the blood from a beautiful glass shelf.

Mom was in a bad mood, and she drank her dad all night on the occasion and without. When she cooked the salad eggs and put them in cold water, Dad replaced them with raw eggs and locked themselves in his room to the castle. Dad says the screams were heard from a few floors down. Both are retired and have not stopped having fun.

The dog is the most reliable friend of man. It can be trusted any secret - it will not be revealed.

told a friend.
Recently our theater was on a trip in the area. I was driving a peanut. played the show. All tired, Cinderella is something nervous, speaking in elevated tones. We remain silent so as not to fall under distribution. Then the maid calmly asks:
What are you doing, Cinderella? Do you want a bucket?

Mother gave the Minister of Agriculture Tkachev half a billion rubles, which he indicated in his declaration. Mother gave the minister half a billion!
This is all because Alexander Nikolaevich wore a hat and ate cabbage!

Mice are good at cheese, but badly at mouse flips.

Tickets number one
I think everyone dreamed of getting their first ticket at the exam. He was known even by the most emphatic twins.
I pulled him out several times. And not accidentally. In what way?
I studied well, but not well. Because of behavior. It suffered from a talkative tongue and sheep you know where (approximate behavior - 2 times in 10 years, once - broke my leg, 2 months gips, then crumbled, run no; the second - accidentally put me someone else's example, did not start to correct). was distracted.
But the exam is holy, only in 5++. A great student awoke in me. I prepared very hard. The exams were held every year, starting from the fifth grade. In the eighth grade – four, in the tenth – eight.
The fifth class. The Mathematics. Twenty some got, everything was brilliant, great, five, but the nerves, nerves went away...
In the sixth grade I was the first to draw a ticket. Not to shake in vain. Voila, His Majesty the First!
All envelopes are snow-white, perfectly flat, like fresh snow, only on one either slightly blurred or muddy. He was different, but he was different. He took it, he broke out of the row, ruined the picture. My first...
Everything went great. But I thought. (I am 12 years old) In memory: the soundtrack enters, a pack of envelopes in the hand, the top, naturally, is pressed with the thumb. from him trace. of logic? It is logical!
So I picked up my first tickets until the end of school. Only once did someone get before me. Exams are held once a year and teachers are different. No one understood.
I have always been preparing for the exams, honestly!!! to

Since the treasures of the Pharaohs have not yet been found, the Jews left Egypt not empty-handed.

Today I was walking on the street, in the pocket of my jacket lay a thousand (like). He was already approaching the store, the boy runs up and asks, "Did you drop the money?" I have 1000 in my hands. I look in my pockets, I really lost it. Even though it seemed to me for a moment, I put it in my wallet. Oh well okay. I take 1000 from the boy’s hand (which was not worth doing), I express my gratitude and I leave.

Here his parents run to me and say that I have taken a thousand from their boy's hands, which he supposedly asked to exchange. I tell them that nothing like that, that it is my thousand and I lost it, and the boy found it and gave it. They didn’t even want to listen. They said there was a camera. We will see there. There I was a little panicked because a thousand really took out of the boy’s hands, but we were both with smiling faces that had to prove my innocence. Type is honest. But the parents immediately said, give 5000 for moral damage + 1000 that you stole and we will break up. Well actually everything became clear, even the cameras do not want to watch, and especially to call the police, which I insisted on. When we went to the store where there were cameras, I started calling the police, and they were like ripping up trying to pull a thousand out of the pocket. They did not succeed, but they fled. I took a wallet to put a thousand, and there is mine. by LOL. He accidentally divorced.

Recently I fought over a question asked by my student: how to join a team?

On the one hand, everything is simple: you have to be interesting. You can better know the preferences of people to communicate with and adjust to them. But only if you really share those preferences.

On the other hand, the collective does not need to be incorporated, it needs to be created. This is evident in romantic relationships. If you choose to “trick” in, you need to pursue the interests of others at the expense of your own. I’ve already written about people who are trying to “buy” love in these ways and what’s out of it.

It may sound strange, but long-term relationships—work, friendship, or romance—are built around you. That is, you need to look for those who will not be afraid to take dignity in a coupe with shortcomings and appreciate their combination. You do not need to invent a bicycle. Valuable qualities have not changed for thousands of years. Very well wrote about this Zhenetsky:

And the values remain the same: honesty, decency, the shoulders of a child, a conversation with the smart, silence with him, guests from far away, cycades at night, the morning smell of the garden, the silent walk of a cat, books that give the opportunity to live not here, and normal friendship when both do not need anything.

It turns out, the one who is afraid to be himself is surrounded by people who will never be interesting to him.

The case was in the early 2000s. I, a student, was very lacking the scholarship of 225 rubles 40 kopecks. We decide with a friend-one-groupman to "cut the bubble" so that then "nothing to refuse." Internet job search portals were not observed at the time, so we sat down then, opened one popular thick magazine and started looking for a job.

Stopped on some loath proposal, which did not require specific skills and was a free schedule. Transportation to another part of the city.

The first thing surprised the employer's "office"... was the room of the former kindergarten, in which the cabinets were rented. Inside us met all the same remnants of the Soviet time - very rare furniture in the cabinets and lighting as in the "landlake", it was possible to count the twists on the incandescent lamp.

We found the desired office. We enter. They said goodbye and said they came for an interview. And here we were waiting for the first surprise - we were taken to interviews in different offices...

My friend stayed in the reception room, and I was invited to the next adjacent office.

There is the same picture: a table, two chairs, an empty closet, no curtains on the windows... and still on the walls posters of handcraft, which carefully told about how "The best employee of the last quarter rested with his family in Egypt" and in the middle of all this writing from the hand was glued a photo describing the title. On the other wall hanged some "postulates of a successful man"... also written by hand with colorful flormasters.

I sit down. Looking to be successful...

Hello again, call me! “No, I’m the senior manager... I’m going to interview you. I am now recruiting people to my team, successful and prosperous... You want to be successful, drive abroad, move on a expensive car... Tell me what kind of work you don’t like, what would you never want to do?

After a long thought, I give you an answer.

- I would never want to walk in the entrances, apartments, to pair up people unnecessary things, such as pots, brushes, toothbrushes and other lobes (it must be said that such sales were only in the germ at the time)

I hear the answer:

Then you don’t fit us...we’re doing just that!

The curtain. the exit.

I have a friend. The Marine Special Forces. Thro the bag. Starting from urgent and up to retirement. It does not hurry.

He was sent to a hospital with bronchi. The hospital is in the suburb of Moscow and travel long and boring.

He calls in the morning, “I,” he says, “broke my cup of tea. Bring me a new one.”

Riding lazy, and I realize that he is actually just boring.

The result:

To carry her? You have to give it to the police!

Oh yeah yeah!

and seriously. Go to your doctor now and tell you that you have a bowl of Esmarch. She is just unbeaten. If they refuse, then demand, say what is due. And free of charge.



Here, a normal person would recall the doctor, but there is no need to go to the doctor's office.



Well, as I understood, in the doctor's office, doctors whispered like moderns, and I will soon be discharged from the injury.

Collie worked with me in the same company. Every conversation begins with the phrase:

Do you still work in %companyname%?

And every time I came up with new fun answers. And every time differently: “Of course. Where do I get off the submarine? with your prayers.” and etc. etc.

The time went by, Cole retired from there and changed several jobs, and I still worked for that firm and responded accordingly.

Five years later, after a long silence, he found me in VK.

Do you still work in %companyname%?

I didn’t want to come up with answers, so I answered simply:

You are gone, Cole.

But he was not upset, he even rejoiced.

God, at last it is. I thought you would never send.

I think every photographer has had a blind shot in his life, no matter how cool he is.

I also had such a story.

It was at the dawn of digital photography, before that I had been working as a photographer for many years, but in the number I made only the first steps. I bought my first digital camera, and slowly began to move from film to digital.

There was a rather unusual order - to remove the wedding to the sectarians, I do not remember which specific sect, but it does not matter. The sect consisted of all - newlyweds, their parents, guests. Everything went routinely and boring - registration, wedding, a modest feast without alcohol...

Upon returning home, I connected the camera to the computer to take photos, and then my old and poor computer broke up — it slapped and hanged dead.

I restart, connect the camera again - and the flash is empty! In what way, when the computer stumbled, the flash already connected to it through the camera turned out to be formatted! How this happened I still have no idea.

I was in shock and hysterical. It is now I know several programs to recover remote information from carriers, and then I did not have any idea about their existence, I did not even have the internet, lived in a strange city - neither acquaintances nor connections among knowledgeable people. Recovering what was lost at the time was not possible.

As a result, it was decided to give up to the customer, return the money, and offer them a free photo session as a compensation.

appointed a meeting.

The father of one of the newlyweds came to meet.

He told him everything as a confession, gave him money.

I expected anything – screams, curses, promises of God’s punishment, but not that.

Hearing me, the man said, "God gave, God took," took the money, turned and left, without saying a single word.

I never saw them again, they never turned to me during the photo session.

They learn from mistakes.

Since then, in order to avoid the repetition of this, as they say, unprecedented measures were taken - first I replaced the computer, replaced the camera with a new one, only appeared then, with the possibility of backing up when shooting at once on two flash drives. Memory cards were also replaced, with expensive reliable ones with a lifetime guarantee. All photos are stored on two different hard disks. And once these precautions saved me, when the hard drive died, but not a single photo was lost.