Hate is the fate of the weak, unable to defeat the enemy.

Last year la us took work on a remote gold hunt in the deaf corner of the valley of the Yan River. There was no prey yet, intelligence was going, so there was a permanent staff of 10-11 men. Hospitality is a distinctive feature of remote closed groups, and a good chef in such places is the key to success. Soon after we met, we were sent to the dining room. Ordinary stove with a stove, a long table, a huge view for those who want, but most importantly - a MISCHIEF! Pasha was of normal height and shape, with a bald cornered head, which, judging by its appearance, was moved by the tank, having previously twisted on it. The first impression, as it turned out later, was almost correct, only it was a bulldozer. I didn’t like to remember that case, so I don’t know the details. He was presented to us as the God of the pot and the pot, and we were presented to him as the lost geologists who were about to move the copts away from hunger (this was not quite true, but we were silent in anticipation). Pasha put on the table of the fresh bread he baked, poured tea and said that now he will only warm up. The bread had such a smell that we didn’t even have time to get the knives – it was broken and eaten lightning. I had never eaten anything cooler before and I can compare it to nothing, I can only say one thing – it was bread from the bakery from Mount Olympus, Zeus could eat all his life only them. But when Pasha came and put on the table a large bowl of flour, we were deceived! I ate plov with the Tajiks and Uzbek, in different places and conditions, but even in their homeland it did not have such a perfect smell and appearance! I will be silent about the taste, because it was better than bread! True, Pasha said that in the flood not a lamb, the meat went to the bear, who terrorized them three days before, but I am sure that Pasha will prepare the same flood without the strain of any mice and carpenters. After we ate, Pasha spoke, seeing us enjoying the results of his undoubted talent. He told that after close contact with the bulldozer he could no longer fully work on gold, but since the life of the caregiver is delayed, he was left to cash. Literally a year later he discovered the talent of Cook from God and the artels began to compete with each other in promises to him of gold mountains, only he worked for them. After working for 9-10 months and having earned, he was tired of a vacation, but spent it very peculiarly - wheeled around the world, studying the cuisines of the peoples of the world, and then refined the recipes on the stomachs of the workers in the next season. He travelled half Europe, was in Mexico and South America, walked somewhere in North Africa, and the last three years traveled through Central Asia. There he mastered either 68 or 78 species of plow (not exactly remembered), and, virtually without repeating, fed the artel with these plows, starting in March. Yes, the farmer had to turn around to get everything ordered by Pasha before the work began, but the effort had to be justified. He told us a long time about the different types of plow, cooking technology and more, but my operating memory filled up after the second recipe, and I just quietly admired the man who found himself. It was very unusual – in such sailboats, where we penetrated everywhere for about a week and almost drowned on it twice, to meet a man against whose background Alien looked like Apollo, but at the same time with a bright spark of talent and a worldview of a planetary scale.
The next day we left in the morning on the route, returned around 2 o'clock at night, and in the morning we have to leave further. When we opened our eyes, we had time for breakfast. For the first time, we saw almost all of the artillery together, except for the two who had not yet returned from the night shift. Pasha put on the table a huge cage, in which there was some kind of Zalakhat plow, pronounced its name on some Turkic dialect and went aside, studying the reaction of the masterpiece eaters for their future memoirs. We looked at this red-golden miracle with admiration, waiting for the chief of the artillery to put his hand first on the rooster. And absolutely unexpectedly for us heard the words of a healthy man, who looked into the cage and said with unbeatable longing:
“Pasha, you’re such a bitch, so when will you make us an ordinary strawberries?” How much can you put on this flower? Give me the grey! Or I’ll move you by the bulldozer again!! to
We are frozen. From the faces of the workers, I realized that they generally support the speaker. Pasha looked closely at the person who allowed himself to say something against his cooking and calmly replied:
- According to the plan, the float will temporarily end in three days, then there will be a break for a strawberries with a bowl. It is not too long, Knee, be patient!
The men cheered, and one of them immediately shouted:
So, let’s start with the number three!
“No, Pasha, get out of the number eight!
Under this future menu trade, we ate a talented plow with an unspoken Turkish name and set out to leave. When I said goodbye to everyone, I quietly asked Pasha:
What is the number 3 and 8?
Paola smiled:
- I have a grandmother from under Ryazan, she knows 17 variants of cooking strawberries, and I found 7 other options. Therefore, they do not want ploves - they will eat various strawberries with strawberries!
Why can’t we alternate floors and grass?
I can, I can change. There are potato dishes, pasta, lentils and many others. Just this dwarf bear dropped part of the barrels with foods into the river and we now have a little rice and an immense amount of ham, and when the next truck will be - it is not yet clear. The menu had to be unified.
We went everywhere further into the mountains, and I long remembered how many dishes I could cook from ham. More than two did not work out - a strawberries with a strawberries and a strawberries without a strawberries. Here are 24! There is something to think about...

In general, coming to a radio shop for the first time is worse than buying condoms for the first time. You come, and so whispering, "I would have a condenser at 22MF."
You are asked loudly, “What?
The Electrolyte? The Tantal? The output? The SMD?” You are :
"I don't know-a-a-a-a-a," - and everyone turns around at once, looking at you judgmentally and ticking their fingers.

Psychological maturity is when you see in some publication that a stranger is wrong... and just slide on, without proving anything to anyone.

When my mom and I (the doctor) went for a walk, some aunt approached and talked about their illnesses and asked for advice. Her mother:

Get disguised.

How is?! to

to the belt.

Right here? →! to

You are asking me for advice here.

Do not fool me! I myself do well with it.

According to Victor Monday:

Flying with the Rostov SKA on a tour of Africa. One of the matches was played against the national team of Mali. The goalkeeper went out with the monkey on a chain, placed it on the fence. It is like a talisman. And here I beat from a distance, I get into the curtain, this martyrdom falls deadly.
What started! The goalkeeper takes her on his hands, the whole team stops. They shout, shake their hands and leave the field. The spectators also shook. The translator says: “A scandal! If she dies, we will not leave.”
But the monkey woke up and the match continued. They played 1:1. A correspondent of the French "Team" transmitted on the phone about the case. But the connection was bad, or the translation was confused.
In general, our newspapers wrote that Monday killed a monkey at the gate of the Mali national team by a strike of terrible force.

Let’s make the cabbage?! to
Let’s go without cabbage!

Going to a radio shop for the first time is worse than buying condoms for the first time. You come, and so whispering, "I would have a condenser at 22MF."

You are asked loudly, “What? The Electrolyte? The Tantal? The output? The SMD?”

You say, "I don't know-a-a-a-a-a-a-a," and they all turn around at once, look at you with a condemnative look and tick your fingers.

As it turns out, we all have patriots. The only difference is the degree of fear.

When he served, he did not understand those men who, upon the request to smoke, gave the whole package (and then in a country with chicken everything was bad in general). I felt very uncomfortable.
And then the boy in shape asked for a cigarette, gave him a pack, and he returns my old words:
You are what, why? What will you smoke yourself?
He doesn’t understand, as I once did, that I give it to myself, to those who are younger and in shape.

San is

How do you know if you have a real morge?
It is easy! The real moors swim naked.
- That is, if someone is swimming in a swimsuit in clothes, then it's definitely not a morge?
and no. He is a fisherman.

Remember, in our Soviet childhood, the word "rocket" was associated exclusively with space.

As usual, I came to the guy for a visit (we have met for a year and a half), drank tea, there was a bell at the door - his parents came. I haven't met them yet, so I was even happy to see my future relatives, and the guy was pale... His parents went with some girl. Apparently his wife.

It is good to be a bear. It was time to sleep for half an hour in the autumn - I woke up: well, it is spring! No frost, no frost, no frost and no frost.

Whoever for the sixteenth century is an enlightener, for the twenty-first century is a darkness.

The Lucky

We talked about the nature of luck. I argued that no special luck exists, much less misfortune. And that all our lives are subjected only to the theory of probability, well, to some extent, to our efforts.
Andrei took the word. Andrei, in addition to being an excellent film operator, he is also an avid athlete - the conqueror of different Elbrus and female hearts.
Here is his story:

A classmate called me and asked for someone’s phone number. We crushed for life and Vitya admitted that he was the most foolish man in the world. And he is already accustomed to it. His wife went from him to a friend, with whom he introduced her, at work also worse nowhere. In the office reduction and it was decided to dismiss someone from the department. One out of fifteen people. They started to draw the draw, of course, Vite got the “dismissal”. Here the boss came and said that it was unfair, because there were not only fifteen people in the department, but seventeen, two on a business trip. They decided to wait. Waited, dropped a new draw, Vitya again extended the "dismissal".

In short, it was necessary to somehow save an old school friend from the handra and unpleasantness and bring it to feel.
And I suggested going out together on a short trip for a couple of nights. With tents, fireworks and everything in that spirit. Usually such actions put their heads in place.
Whitney never went on a trip, but gladly agreed.
I took two backpacks, two one-seat tents, gathered, sat on the trail and took the train toward Kostroma.
We go through the forest, the birds sing, the mood of both is elevated. Especially Viti, he clearly liked the trip.
Suddenly, Vitya stumbled, did not resist and slowly, ridiculously fell forward on his arms. As if nothing worse, I even swallowed. Vivian silenced for a while. Until I came to consciousness. It turned out that during the fall, the backpack inertia went forward and knocked Vitu right into the neck by the edge of the cover from the boiler. Blood, saddle, I even wanted to return, but Vitya persuaded me to continue the expedition. I glued his neck with a patch, gave a pill from a headache, went on, but the mood was no longer the same. We found a suitable bed for the night, we started to arrange.
I dismantled my tent, Vitus my own, and I, from the height of my expeditional experience, began to give him advice:

You see a tent under a tree, it is a hundred years old, but suddenly at night there will be a strong wind and a tree will fall right on you once in a hundred years.
And you have a tent under a tree.
And you look carefully, my tree stands straight, and yours has leaned over the tent. Think where it will fall?
Well yes at all.

And Vitias moved the tent on the other side of the tree, now it turned away from the tent.
and short. At night, there was a terrible hurricane that stormed for eight seconds. As a result, Vitino's tree pulled out with the root, bended to the other side and fell to his tent.
Thank God the bones were whole, but the blow again fell on the poor back of the neck, though it slipped.
I thought that my classmate was really lucky.
I had to give up my tent to the poor, and I covered myself with what was left of the broken one.
The next day, Vitya long mumbled and did not decide, then finally dared and asked:

How to go on a trip? Is there any technology?
Meaning of bigger?
Well yes.
Have you not gone yet? I forgot to tell you the instructions.
The scheme is easy, here is toilet paper and here you have a scarf. You go somewhere further from here, where you like it, dig a pit, do your business there, and then bury back with a spade. We love and protect nature.
Well yes, we love it. It is clear, I went.

After a while, Vitya came back and asked confusedly:

Andrei, tell me, how can I wash my scarf?
Why wash it? We don’t have water for that. Remove the grass and put it back into the grass.
No, it won’t work on the grass, it’s shit.
- What fucking thing, Vitya, did you fuck my titanium scarf?! to
Yes, I did not tick, and it is not mine at all. I just wasn’t lucky, I started digging a pit, and someone’s shit was already buried there. How do I wash my scarf?

What is this to you?
The digital technologies!
It is understandable. Why all of stones and sticks?
There are Roman numbers.

My bright future is constantly wiped out by the elite electricians in power.

Our neighbors and three houses stand separate from the village. Everyone has a hectare of land in use. Everything is as well as trees on the sites, and the pond is excavated, well, and dogs for three families 8 pieces. The fruit is common, there are no fencing, so the entire dog mafia moves as it pleases.
Dogs are peaceful, everyone loves and respects each other. The most wicked and dangerous is Yulia’s camel. The old, but strong, according to the story of the owner, the bear bite the eggs, but as it is said, he himself did not see, so let it remain on his conscience.) In general, Yulka did not love anyone, and all of her is not to be afraid, but afraid, it is certain.
In the month of June, we wake up from the common hustle, and straight all the four-legged shobla is flooded straight, option two - or someone else has entered the site, or someone has been caught and already beaten. Or both of them)
Let’s run out. The whole conspiracy is crazy around Yulka, so she stood in the rear to the volley and let no one go. He stands straight in the chest, biting everyone who fits. In general, laughing, roasting and other charms. We drive out our brother, Yulia, and we will be scattered, what shit?
Go, go, what are you hiding here? Taste of sperm?
The dwarf with the swing moves away - a couple of kittens, the eyes only opened visible, the mother of the cat nearby is not observed. The cats whisper the food out of her bowl, the whole conspiracy whispers but no longer looks like it, at first Yulka has driven them away, and now they are waiting for the verdict of the two-legged chief.)
Fuck, is that so? After all, they would hit the cats and mock them, they would not have time if they were honest, with me this whole gang was chasing cats and not everyone managed to escape.
Although Pashin Kotfeich freely walked through the areas and the dogs did not touch him. My own type? Dan is paying?
In general, from this day Yulka over the small took the bossy, and licked them out, and did not allow anyone first, and then the katotfeichi already and their steel.
Month after three, by autumn, Yulka on the rainbow left, and the rainbow was empty, the cats came to the same place, where we saw them for the first time and did not leave probably a week, Yulka was waiting. They didn’t cry, they didn’t cry, they just lay down and waited.
P.S Instead of Yulka, the young Sanbernarcha now looks after the cats... pulls them in the saliva, so that Petro Petrovich and Ivan Ivanovich are constantly wet)