How quickly a huge number of people who thought “Who else if not him” changed their mind to “Who would only not him.”

In December 1992, Chubais was appointed chairman of the State Council. the Russian Federation Committee on the Management of State Property and was in fact responsible for privatization. Remember how it ended?
In March 1997, Chubais was appointed First Deputy Prime Minister of the Russian Federation and at the same time Minister of Finance of the Russian Federation. Then, in 1998, Chubais was appointed special representative of the president for relations with international financial institutions and held talks with the IMF and the World Bank. Do you remember the fallout of August 1998?
In April 1998 Chubais was appointed Chairman of the Board of RAO "EEC of Russia". Remember the accident in Moscow in 2005? These are small things. As a result, in July 2008, RAO EEC was liquidated.
In September 2008, Chubais was appointed general director of the state. Russian Corporation of Nanotechnologies (Since 2010 OJSC Rosnano). Yes, the same Rosnano, about whom all joked and mocked who were not lazy.
- And now the cherry on the cake: In December 2020, Chubais was appointed a special. representative of the President of the Russian Federation on relations with international organizations for achieving the Sustainable Development Goals. I got there, fucking.

Tell me, and printing houses on a color printer dollars and euros is another article for counterfeiting or already a medal for import substitution?

What’s wrong with a free VPN?



Tagged: phishing



zzz: VPS with wireguard solves the issue. And if you add more DNS over TLS, it is generally the norm. And again, if there is a home server (these people are many, yes), then you can use nginx as a DPI and blocked traffic to send through a proxy to a remote VPS with a proxy or VPN. Yes, phishing on sites that support TLS v1.3 is no longer especially and relevant. By the way, due to the DPI on nginx, it is quite possible to wrap up part of the blocked traffic in TOR.



XXX: Go out to your yard

I (at any age): I do something

Mom: You are doing the wrong thing! Must be so and so! It should be here, but it shouldn’t be here at all!

I: - Mom, I know what to do, go to bed and rest.

Mom: - You can't say anything, you constantly argue, you always do everything!

I am : :(

Most of the talents were lost by the unlimited possibilities of gray.

The contributor says:
“I have 10k euros. In order for me to take them, Sber offers me to sell them first to him for 114 rubles, and then buy $140 (because they only issue dollars). In total, for my 10k euros I will get 8k dollars.”

The state sign issued the first batch of American dollars. According to the conclusion of experts, the dollar notes printed in Russia are not inferior to the American analogue, and in a number of parameters are superior.

As in Moscow salt 1000r per gram. You have 20g per kg. Is that the kitchen?



Yyy: Oh, and we still fuck women here in the province. Village of S.

Xxx: Laughing at the names of taxi drivers is Moveton, who will arrive at Kia Rio in 12 minutes

Yesterday at the exit of one of the night establishments of Tashkent.

Boy (10-12 years old), drunk uncle (45-50 years old): Uncle, buy a strawberry.

Uncle: Well, I haven’t eaten chicken for a long time. He buys a smell, starts a conversation with the boy. What are you doing here so late?

Boy: I help my mom sell the strawberry.

D: Boy, why is it here?

M: There are a lot of rich people here, they can buy a lot of strawberries. I will grow up and be the same. “It laughs.”

D: Logically, just remember – the people here are not happy, they pretend to be happy. Actually, happy people sleep at home with their wives and children. The hell here is full.

M: So you’re not happy either?

D: It bites the smell. and Zhou. He responds very calmly. “Yes, I’m not happy either.

Xxx: I noticed that I had people in my cart whose contacts I had removed a long time ago (even before I first installed the telegram). These contacts are not in Watsapp, nor in Google contacts. Why is it happening?



Yyy: Who are you?



Zzzz: How cute it is :)

Xxx: In the house next to mine lived a boy, Cole, who always liked to play with us — with the girls. It would be nothing, but Cole then went to the first class, and we were already in the seventh. He once told my friends that when he grew up, he would marry me. Colla smiled confusedly, and we laughed loudly.

In a month I will be 31 years old. Cole, where are you? ?



Yyy: Kolya grew up and became smarter simply.

In Одноклассники complain about refugees from Facebook and Instagram. Naked, arrogant, always drunk. They make shit in comments, steal valuations and gifts.

The horse has a prospect.

This conversation took place fifteen years ago. And now I remembered him.
One day, I was taken to a small editorial office. A very small office occupied an ordinary apartment in an old house on the Fountain. Well, and the collective, respectively, was optimized by the economical owner of the publication to the limit - in our homework worked shoulder to shoulder editor, artist Nika, carpenter and advertiser - both Verki, big and small. The necessity of such an element of newspaper activity as a journalist was not placed in the head of the chief. Why is it needed, if so many different texts grow on the massive field of the Internet, and just things - to collect them with the caring hands of the editor. In order not to rush to the revenge of the upset sable-toothed authors, the content slammed in the quiet provincial graphomans and in the pink-girly pimples-covered lyrusches. There was no journalist. But in a separate office painted the nails of stunning beauty and stupidity creature, proudly called himself an office manager. At first, the wise bosses tried to do without a corrector, but boring advertisers recognized this approach as vicious. I had to give in to capital.
In the early days, not yet understanding the peculiarities of editorial policy, I was very surprised, reading the texts received from the editor, the elderly simple-minded Tamara Nikolaevna. I also felt something strange about my employees. Difficulty is not caution, not danger. More specifically, it was a typical female monastery. The only male, the large scattered ficus Vasya, walked on the window, sadly pressing the palms-leaves to the glass. The window, of course, went out into the courtyard of the usual fuzzy appearance.
A couple of weeks later, when everything somehow slowly entered the workload and in the breaks we were chasing tea in the kitchen, I struck the right moment and asked - what was it? The girls looked around and laughed.
As it turns out from their story, I was not the first corrector here. The previous two have made an indelible impression. Both, or rather both, were, as Verka the Great expressed delicately, heracnute. The first dedicated all of her free time to denouncing the cats of impure force, and the lighthearted young employees soon felt uncomfortable. The second was of rare purity. She washed everything. When she washed the ice cream bought in the kiosk under the crane, the girls decided that the eternal search for mistakes has a detrimental effect on the mental health of the correctors.
But I only washed my hands and fruits, with impure force and so on my short leg, as I constantly draw, - in general, all exhaled relieved.
We worked very nice. The people were all joyful and not harmful, common themes - men and children - were always at hand, so there were no reasons for conflict. The only inconvenience arose when the girls thought about television. We should have gathered in the kitchen for a lunch break or for a tea coffee as they stretched behind the controller. I did not protest. I went out for lunch 15 minutes earlier. I drank coffee and read a book. Then the bullshit Verki flooded, splashed on the chairs, the noise-gam-TV began. I calmly took the book, the cup, and went to the quiet harbor, back to work.
My disappearances did not go unnoticed.
One day, when I got up and turned to the exit, the staff approached me with the question – what a fucking thing.
The girls! I just don’t like TV, that’s all.
How is it? I did not understand the big faith.
And for the background? The little girl asked confusedly.
And why? Why do you need a TV in the background? What is “for the background”? – I wondered, in turn, I. Especially since I have been really interested in this strange phenomenon for a long time.
The carpenter suddenly became upset.
Because I do not like silence. I am uncomfortable with her.
Instead, I tried to twist. I want to hear my thoughts. Is it you, doesn’t this gallery hinder them from listening?
There was a heavy pause.
I don’t want to hear my thoughts!
No, how is it without him? Joined Tamara Nikolaevna. And at home?
At home as well.
The girls sang. Television is Oral. I moved from foot to foot.
- Horror... Poor your relatives... - finally stretched the Verka big. You are a tyrant! Even a tyrannosaurus. No, I still do not understand. Why is?! to
I did a terrible nonsense. I went into explanation.
Well look at. Here he turns on – it’s as if suddenly unfamiliar disgusting rays came home to me – oh, wow, like these – and began to swing, discussing the new adventures of singer Valeria or ballerina Volochkova. Putin and Medvedev. Or even worse, the singers themselves with the ballerinas stumbled. And everywhere they throw me in the nose with their dirty underwear, new bullets, and in every way force me to marry in a group. And I sit in my flanel pyjamas with my elephants, my coffee is shrinking, and there is nowhere to go from them. In short, it all interferes with me.
Interfering with what?! to
I thought, I answered shy.
And in their eyes it was clearly read, “This is it! The Corrector! We knew it!”
Verka burkned, silenced (and all according to kiwi):
and dance. You are sick. You need to go to a psychiatrist.
Why to me? Look, you are uncomfortable in silence – why? Because you can’t be alone with your thoughts. Maybe you need to go to a psychiatrist?
Everyone looked at me carefully.
And Verka memberly, clearly explained:
No, we do not need. You need you. Because we are more.
by Tatiana May

I have a king hamburger and a sharp steak.
Honey or Honey?
Without shit, without ice. A small barrel.
Breastfeeding at home? Shorts and pants?
No, I thank you. A large tues.
Are you going to eat here, but will you?
and adopted.

It is best to create two separate offices - for extroverts and for introverts. While in one office extroverts organize parties, cheer salutes, organizes battles chimpanzees and share, share, share endlessly with their thoughts, experiences, emotions about everything and with everyone - in the neighboring office there are rows of cabins, flanked by each other walls, in each cabin a computer, a cozy chair, headphones and most importantly - no one idiot extroverts nearby, who "Hello bro, how do you remember Katka from the accounting office, here's how I yesterday swallowed her, go to smoke, go to coffee and drink, and what you did yesterday, and yesterday, and you know what I did yesterday, you know what the difference between giraffe and ossa, this job, let's go, Buddha, Biden Pidas Putin, Pidoras,

And even the Tefal company doesn’t think about us anymore!

Who will you save in the event of a fire, a child or a woman?

Author: child and family psychologist Lina Romanova.

Socrates, a great philosopher and a father with many children, as you remember, loved to go out onto the square and ask a difficult question to his contemporaries. One of those questions I have tried to bring to the general discussion these days. This is what came out of it.

It was an ordinary autumn evening. The households were scattered around their rooms. I read Socrates. One question stunned me. He asked, “If there is a fire and you can only save someone, whom will you save your wife or one child?” All the men answered, “Baby, of course.” Socrates said, “I will save my young wife. We will burn together and she will give me more children. And if I save the child, it will be painful for me and for him. His face will always remind me of tragedy. And the child himself will lose his brothers and sisters and his mother, and then he will have a mother-in-law who will not be able to love him as his mother loved him. Of course, the controversy did not last long. I wondered what my husband would answer. Asked, without interrupting the reading, he replied, “Child. Everyone will save the child. He is defenseless and... well, I don’t know, I’ll save everyone, but if one, then a child.” I told him about Socrates. He postponed the newspaper. We talked about this all night. It turned out to be unreally difficult.

In the morning, both went to work, the children to school and kindergarten. I had a busy day, I didn’t remember Socrates. My husband reminded me in the evening, “I thought I would be killed at work today. In the break, after lunch, he talked about Socrates, asked his question to his fellow servants. The answers were obvious. I said that in the evening I answered so, but in the morning I changed my mind, Socrates convinced with his arguments. My husband said he stopped eating. They started screaming and proving, called friends and people approached from other departments. Finally, the women from the accounting office were called, and they too, in one voice, began to say, “Are you mad? A woman can be changed for another. Your child is your blood.” The rescue came in the form of the boss. He discovered the absence of all workers on the ground during working hours, attracted to the voices and dismissed an unauthorized rally.

The husband returned to work and found a retired employee, his co-worker, at the workplace. He did not participate in the dispute, missed lunch because of his hard work, and he was an old man on his ear, not especially at work with whom he communicated. “Why are all orals? Did the prize be cancelled?” the veteran came to rest. “Yes, no, there was a philosophical dispute...” the husband asked him. And the old man was a family man, by the way: with his wife forty years together, three sons, each house built with his own hands, five grandchildren, everyone loves him to visit. The old man thought, "And what, all said the child will choose to save? I would choose my grandmother. Children, they are guests in the family, grow up and fly out of the nest. Yes, they love me, and I visit them. Yes, but each one is a broken crack. And I will die with my grandmother.”

The wisdom of this man was shocking. I thought, maybe that’s why we have so many divorces that we don’t value our family properly. Maybe it’s not our children and it’s not all for them. Maybe everyone will be happy only when parents value each other above all else?

Who would you save in a fire?