My mother worked for a long time as an educator in a kindergarten, then in our rural club some organizer. In general, the personality is quite famous and respected. She goes somewhere along the street past two local alkashi, who decided to rest from the influences in the shade under the fence. Alkashi recognized her and decided to pay her tribute.

The first:

“Hello, my name is Father, you’re a good woman. May God give you 100 years of life!

Mother :

thank you! But this is only a hundred years, I don’t want to live so long.

Second, with an angry voice:

It is said to you, live! It will still be out there!

True democracy is when everyone says what they want. Because it can. And nobody is listening to anyone. Because he has the right.

Many years ago, anthropologist Margaret Mead asked students what they thought was the first sign of civilization. Students expected Mead to talk about fishing hooks, clay pots, or processed stones.

But not. Mead said that the first sign of civilization in ancient culture is a hip bone that was broken and then crushed. Mead explained that if a living creature in the animal kingdom breaks a leg, it dies. With a broken leg, it cannot escape the danger, get to the river to get drunk or hunt for food. It becomes a prey for predators, as the bone grows quite long.

The hip bone that was broken and then shaken is proof that someone spent time staying with the person who received the injury, bound the wounds, moved the person to a safe place and guarded him until he recovered. Helping another person during a difficult period is the act with which civilization begins,” Mead said.

Dear parents! Please send money to repair the online school by the end of the week!

At the age of 19, I was homeless. A few weeks later, on the street, a man came to me one evening, dressed as a priest. At that moment I could not understand if he was really a priest or just wanted to deceive me.



I told him I didn’t want to talk about God. His subsequent words shocked me. He said, “I have not come to talk about God, but to make sure you are safe.”



We talked until dark, and then he offered me a bed. He seemed sincere to me, so I removed all foreign thoughts.



He took me to the suburbs and asked me to wait in the car, because he had to talk to someone. A few minutes later he came back with another man who offered me to sleep in his garage. Inside I was screaming, “It’s a bad idea,” but there was nothing to do, I agreed.



The garage looked quite standard, there was a store, tools, etc., but in the corner still stood a box and a blanket rolled. You could enter the house through the inner garage door, but I was told to close it for the night. He apologized, said the children at home, he didn’t want to risk.

The priest asked permission to come in the morning to talk to me. Then I went into the house with the man.



I did not sleep all night because of fear, although I had no reason to fear them, both men treated me well. But when you come out on the street, you begin to realize that you can’t trust anyone.



Something amazing happened this morning. The man knocked on the door of his garage and asked if he could enter. It sounds ordinary, but when you live entirely in sight, this behavior makes you feel human again, understand that someone respects you so much that asks for permission to enter your own home.



I stayed with him for seven nights and talked to the priest every day. They somehow managed to break through my subsidy apartment (even less than a studio), find me a job and set up my life.

It’s been over 20 years and I feel indebted to them.



I still send card cards to a man who lived in the garage for Christmas and even went to Thanksgiving for two consecutive years. Unfortunately, the priest died a couple of years ago, but if there is a paradise, he definitely got there.



I’ve been waiting for a slide all the time. I am glad that it all ended well.

The preface.

A couple of weeks ago, somehow, I stuck in YouTube on a video about washing machines (started with the views of Advocate Egorov, I don't know how I got to the washing machine). I noticed how quiet they were. I thought, I thought, I decided to buy a new one, although mine works, but she is 12 years old.



of action.

I go down, ask the concierge for the number of our courtyard, I call, I say “need – take.” Five minutes later, I picked up.

In a couple of days, I learn from the concierge that they sold it for 3,000 to a neighbor at the entrance. It is possible.jpg

They sold and sold, guys. Then came the pinch.

I knock on the door, I open, the neighbor stands (I don’t know):

Your machine is not working!

...??? to

It does not heat water.

What are the claims to me?

Give me my money back!

Emm, I gave it to the courtiers for free.

They sold it for $3,000!! to

Congratulations to you! They ask for your money.

They said they did not have it and that they sold the machine in working condition.

Again, did you give me money?

No, but...

And then goodbye!

I close the door. Then the counsellor said that the neighbor would write a statement on me and the courtiers. And yesterday I learned that this machine was bought by a conserge, asked me to show how to turn it on.

P.S the heater in the machine works, just someone's hands grow from the wrong place

If there are no football millionaires, pop singers, television experts, global economists and other elites, the country will not notice this. But without doctors, teachers, scientists, she will quickly get angry.

Who could think

When I was a kid and my mom sent me and my brother to sleep, I always thought how cool it was to be an adult.

You can go to bed at what time you want, do something there in the dim light of the apartment, talk about something, reason, look thoughtfully out the window.

Who could know, it turns out, my mom was just cleaning and washing dishes, thinking about how to feed us tomorrow, unfreezing the straw, wiping the dust and putting a little order in the apartment. Before you go to bed, you can look out the window quietly.

Thinking about it, tomorrow is Wednesday.

There are three ways to fight the coronavirus.
1st Chinese - the most cruel quarantine, blow up a bunch of money.
2nd Swedish to do nothing.
Three Russian – to declare Chinese, to implement Swedish, to make a difference.

This story happened to me three weeks ago. I woke up in the afternoon after a night shift. It was lazy to cook and I decided to order delivery. Everything is fine, I paid, I’m waiting.

Here is a call.

The courier has arrived, and I tell him that I am going out. I go to the door, happy. In the morning, she went to work and closed the door as usual. I look for the keys, but I don’t have the keys. I panic, call a girl, ask where my keys are, if she has not seen them. And I hear the silence in the telephone, and I understand that she took her own and my keys too. The courier calls again and says what’s there. I tell him, you can confirm the order and pick it up for yourself. Because I couldn’t get out of the apartment, they locked me and left no keys. I’m upset, even a little bit upset by the girl’s inattention. Here the courier calls back, says maybe the neighbors leave the order, and I tell him that I just recently moved to this apartment and I don't know anyone yet. From his conversation I realized that he didn’t want to leave me in trouble. And here I remember that after the repair we have left the old wires. 6 floor, about 18 meters. I think enough. I offer him, I say, or maybe I'll kick you a wire from the window, and you'll tie it. He agreed and walked around the house. Standing up under the window, I was connecting two wires at that moment. Our rescue operation began. I dropped him the wire, the length was enough, there was even a reserve of two meters. He tied a pack of food. Signal that everything is OK. I started raising the package. In his head played a song from the movie "Mission is not executable". But we still fulfilled that mission. I am satisfied, filled. The courier also got up the mood, I think he was like that for the first time, threw him on the card for tea in a sign of gratitude.

I remember how sometimes I went to work and fell unnoticed,

But to go to work secretly from the president, life did not prepare me for this.

I work in a clinic, I do a reception.

A patient arrives today. I hear a dry cough. I ask :

Why not wear a mask when you enter?

They did not give me.

I am going to understand.

It turns out in 2 weeks waiting for a check from Moscow, the masks to issue ceased: we have to report that we have everything in sufficient quantity.

I have everything.

My brother and I are doing major repairs in my mother’s apartment. We began to change the transmission. A new one without connecting. The old one was not photographed immediately, so that the light was. It is time to cut off the old wire and connect a new one. We disconnect the old from the shield - the neighbors' light in one room is gone!

Coughing on the coronavirus must be from the underlying side.

The famous British journalist Matthew Parris in his book “Mission Achieved!” tells about the incident that happened to American Senator Bill Bradley at one solemn dinner in 2000. Using the intended portion of butter issued to him, the senator demanded another portion from the waitress, but, to his surprise, received a firm refusal. Then Bill Bradley decided to show his crudity: “Do you know who I am? I am a U.S. senator, chairman of the Senate Asset Committee and a former basketball star. And I am also a candidate for President of the United States!"But even this didn't impress the unwavering waitress: "Do you know who I am? I’m the guy who decides who to give oil and who not!”

Barrymore, what is this terrible, breaking the soul, wow?
This is the Baskerville dog, sir. It was the 60th time I went for a walk.

xxx: It’s more funny when “AFRICAN AMERICAN” is called a Negro who lives, for example, in France or Uzbekistan.

Yyy: Because Afrouzbek is a shit!

Previously, citizens called home prostitutes, now in the category of illegal went manicures and hairdressers, which some unconscious people begin to slowly call home in spite of the prohibitions. I wonder what other professions will go underground? As in a popular TV show:

Hello, is this a car?

Now it is a pharmacy.

Can I wash the car?

Yes come here.

In Soviet times, as a student, he worked as an electrician in JEK. Here is a story - from a public utility apartment from a house near the TV center received a request from a grandmother that her neighbor is burning her with a laser beam! The grandmother explained that as she just went to bed, the neighbor touched her with a laser beam and her head broke. And she constantly has to move her bed to a new place, after which, for a while, she sleeps quietly until the neighbor touches her again with a laser beam. That all of her statements to the militia do not give results. I said that I am studying at the electronic university that it is not laser rays, but electromagnetic torsified fields. My grandmother immediately realized that she was a specialist in the field. After that, I cleaned the steam heating battery with a stitch, pulled the bed to the battery and wrapped the bed with a bare wire to the battery. Grandma explained that as soon as the torsion fields touch the bed, the wires will go into the battery, and then into the ground. That the grandmother herself will soon make sure that her head will no longer hurt, and the neighbor will walk evil. The most interesting thing is that the grandmother after repeatedly called the controller and asked to pass the electrician that her head no longer hurts, and the neighbor is walking evil! What helped my grandmother? Landing the bed or conviction? But my grandmother’s head really stopped getting sick.

During the coronavirus we seemed to be on the Titanic and even in our cabins.