Even in ancient times, the plebs, who desired all kinds of hallows, such as bread and spectacles, received only dictators and emperors.

About predictors, analysts, futurologists and other predictors.
I read the internet, who only and what does not predict and do not analyze - where will the rate of the dollar go, where will oil be released into one hand, who and why will finance Greta, who will become the president there and the chairman of the government here, who will "count, destroy and replace"... whether we return the Crimea with the Kuriles and go into excess with Belarus, whether China will buy the Baltics and not cheaper the last... who invented the coronavirus and in what amounts it is treated with vodka...

It’s like the anecdote about the blonde and the theory of probability: “What is the maximum probability that you will meet a living dinosaur when you go out on Arbat? “Nowow... 50 to 50... or a meeting or not.”

In the early 1980s we studied in the medinstitutes and we had a cycle of psychiatry. You come to classes in the morning, you are given a patient with schizophrenia, for example, individually or in a group. Here you are with him and communicate for a couple or three hours, look at him, understand how and what he reacts to, how he responds, what structures he builds, what behavior corresponds to this disease.
Subsequently, having met similar behavior in the bus, in a team, at a rally - you immediately understand who is in front of you and how to treat him.
This reflective ability, to see mental abnormalities, life still complicates me and, at the same time, colored with bright colors - well, how at the party not to diagnose the interlocutor, who is "directly like in the picture"?
Or at a meeting with the big boss... “the most interesting types, I’ll tell you, batenka, get.”
Yes, and here on the site, in the comments, full of lovely samples, although students are given for training in diff-diagnostics.

So, we were given a sick at another class. We talk to her, we ask questions, she answers us seriously, she jokes sometimes, school is going, time for lunch... - beauty!
Why she suddenly cried out that “Tomorrow Brejnev will die,” I don’t remember. We’ve stumbled and continue to learn, though.
Tomorrow morning we come to the psychiatric classroom - and our teacher is not. As not the patient, and the guest, and the chief physician.
In the morning it became known that Leonid Ilyich died in Moscow and all who were involved in this information were taken for questioning and slightly detained there, until the circumstances were clarified.
The logic of the organs was simple – “knowing of death in advance, that is, death was planned; planned, that is, a conspiracy.”
They were released in a day or two, into their usual offices and rooms.

Ever since somebody, closing his eyes and confidently lowering his voice, tells "only to me in great secret" that he knows "from very large offices", I look him enthusiastically in the eyes, all in confident attention, and I see clearly before me that crazy aunt, who absolutely accurately predicted the day of Gensek's death.

Sobyanin banned coming to work from Italy, France, Germany and Spain.
The work of the city council, the State Duma and the government is paralyzed.

It was always so in Russia: having defeated the fifth column, the state was taken for the rest.

One day, my father spoke to me with an awful and frightening thought:

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When asked why they rejected the law "on prohibition for deputies to have real estate abroad", the representative of the parliamentary corps replied that this law would put 99% of deputies before the election: either to continue to deputy, or to keep real estate abroad...
It seems to me alone that for the people, it would be better if the Council, in its entirety, decided to keep the real estate and left, finally, its posts to people who will work for the country, not for the arrangement of their real estate?

Does anyone in the government work for one salary?

I was a day in the world of children, buying gifts to nephews.
I walk in the rows and choose toys. I see a young father, 25 years old, with his wife and two daughters: the older five years holds his hand, and the younger, two years old, holds on the other hand. They go, they look, they choose. And here comes this two-series young daddy into the boy's department, where helicopters and quadrocopters are sold... you would see his eyes! They were amazed at the beauty and capabilities of this wire-winged radio-controlled equipment, and at the same time there was universal sorrow in his eyes. He looked at the toys, his girls, and realized that, well, he could not buy himself (under the pretext that children) this wonderful helicopter. Or a quadrocopter... The wife will not allow. All these experiences were written on his face with arshine letters. The most that shone on him is Barbie, kitchen and soft toys.
And I know how lucky I was. After all, I have a helicopter, a quadrocopter, and a machine with an internal combustion engine! And two sons!

and Igor. 49 years.

News of the day:
The head of the CEC Pamfilova attempted to justify the need to vote for amendments to the Constitution at the same time:
“Well, you don’t like vinegret, but you like borscht or cocklets. You then decide for yourself: no, I will give up all the lunch, because I don't like the vinegret, or I will still take - the vinegret will not eat, I am neither cold nor hot, and the borst and the cocklets will be with me."and c)
Dear Ella Alexandrovna! When borscht and kotletts get into a common container, this is called a very different word - help. And therefore, add you there and winegret, or temporarily - the essence does not change. Help anyway.

When it was time to go to the first class, my mom led me to go to some cool mathematics high school.

I did not pass the team. I remember my mom was very upset and when we went home I almost cried.

I decided to comfort her.

“Mom, don’t worry, I don’t need this cool high school, I want to be a tram driver!

The question, “Why are you so sad?” just freezes up sometimes. You walk with the usual expression of the face and do not lick without a reason, it means you are sad.

Yyy: And if you answer, like, "you shouldn't fuck you," then the sad ones will be two. and :(

If you want to know a person better, learn his opinion about other people.

The story of yesterday reminded me.

The Georgian Hospitality

It was in the second half of the 1980s. The Chernobyl disaster caught Belarus, and my mother decided, as far as possible, to take me and my sister away every summer. In that year, the decision was to go to Georgia, to Borjomi, because there my mother's cousin worked as a doctor.

Mother went (like the teacher, she has a long vacation in the summer), grandfather (he was already retired) and I and my sister. The relative did not pump, for the sake of his cousin, nephews and uncle went off, booked a luxurious two-bedroom room, which in his sanatorium was only 4 pieces. The place is beautiful, green, water is useful, and the air is such that a rabbit in a leopard turns in a week. But the problem in this paradise was also - the hammer. That is, there was a dining room in the sanatorium and there, of course, they fed, but the quality was terrible. I still cannot understand, why? Maybe the deficit of the late 1980s was already affected, maybe the staff was stealing, or maybe something else, but even I, at a young age, and then realized that something was not great at all.

But we figured. Aunt is a good heart, God give her many years and health, a Belarusian from a deaf village, having married her uncle, from a culinary point of view became a greater Jew than he himself. And when they moved to Georgia after his service in the SA, they were more Georgians than the Emeritians, the Mandrels and the Svanes combined. She has been cooking and cooking so far. For her cheesecake and chicken chicks, you can give her left hand. And for chakapuri, sacivi, and maconi you can safely give all the other limbs. Yes, there are women in Belarusian villages.

Knowing the deplorable culinary situation in the sanatorium, she took over us under the slogan, "The child is hungry, the child is pale, the child must be fed." She did not step back from this mantra. Nearly one day my grandfather went to them and returned with bags filled with various delicious snacks. We only had to buy vegetables and fruits on the market, for which she highlighted my cousin as a strike force, who explained perfectly in Georgian (for a beautiful girl, a real gigit can’t help but make a discount).

A uncle, a aunt and their daughters lived behind the sanatorium, in a three-storey building that they had built for staff. There was also a large private sector. You could get there both by the main road (minutes 12-15 walk), and by the mountain trail (once two shorter). The path was, of course, for employees and Aborigines, there was no sense for resting on it, and it was not recommended. I personally did not notice that the local people were against tourists, but the adults said that the tension was (the late 1980s, no matter how cool).

One evening, my grandfather, as usual, went to my aunt for another humanitarian. We waited for him in 30-40 minutes and an hour passed. Not a grandfather. Well, okay, I was delayed, Aunt - a man of salt, can terrorize anyone with food - even a child, even an adult. He was gone for two hours, two and a half, and three. It is already dark. My mother is worried, it is clear. It’s time to start looking, so we have to leave. It’s not that we’re bad guys, but still, to leave us all alone in the evening for a long time, even in the room in the sanatorium, she didn’t decide. I decided to call.

The phone in the room at the time was considered a big chic, we did not have it. She goes to her uncle's office, but he hasn't been there for a long time, the office is closed. She’s at the manager, not that either. While she found the phone, in that time probably 5 times to go to uncle and aunt could be. She called:
Where is Grandpa? “How did you go 3 hours ago?”
We all started to worry seriously.

The grandfather of growth is small and thin, but the male is very strong, despite 3 injuries and age-related wounds. That generation was made of steel. It only seemed that such people could be overwhelmed with a swallow, but in fact he, remembering his youth, could clean up three rounds. But these thoughts do not help much, for an hour as 4 grandparents are not. A little later, at 11 p.m. I need to call the police.

Then the door opens and the grandfather enters with his bags. He is such a cheerful man, and shakes from him young wine, fire, and shale. It turned out simple, he came out of his aunt, and went through the courtyard to the trail. There was a corner along the way where the building plates were lying. Whether they remained from the construction of a three-storey building, or they planned to build another building, and before that, their hands did not reach, but they lay there for many years.
During the day there patsanva played in the war, and in the evenings the men gathered for the seats. The plates were used as benches, and a mangal was placed next to them.

All of course their own, local, and here look at some golden with bags. The very already well-dated, hot Georgian blood has gotten. “Listen, who are you? I see you a lot, you go all out of the bag? Where was he? Go here, I’ll look at you.” Sitemap is tense.

The grandfather calmly approached, “No, not local. My nephew and wife were in this three-storey room. “Who is your brother?” Vitya I. his wife Zina. The tension immediately disappeared “Wah, wah, wah. Viti, my savior He saved him and he saved him. He is such a man. Sit down, with us, do not offend, the meat is ready, lawas fresh. Drink with us.”

Leaving the Georgian invitation to the feast is a fatal insult. And more than likely, their improvised furchette looked very seductive. Well, once he sat down, the toast after the toast, and the time went unnoticed. Grandfather would be happy,, to leave, but each of the company so wanted to drink with a relative of "such a man" that it was a sin to refuse. Everyone stated that he was Viti's best friend, as Viti helped him, and told his story. My grandfather stayed there for more than 4 hours, barely reaching the room. The next day we slept off, there was a very abundant meal.

Years have passed and I remembered this case. He asked:
- Grandfather, listen, and why was Uncle Vitu so honored and called the Saviour by the locals? Who did he work for?
How to Who? I thought you knew. His profession for Georgia was the most necessary and bread - a venereologist.

You will be fed for free. You will have free accommodation! You will get free clothes!! You will always have a job!! You will be protected from any assault on your life!!! You will be a slave.
Could it be without the last one?
- No, you vote for the whole package, as you voted for constitutional amendments.

I take an order from the airport, sit down a couple, we go.

I went out on the track and I straight into my left ear so blow the beginning, I see they opened the window and go quietly.

And it blows so cool, well on the street warm, plus 15, but cold in the ear... and can't say, VIPs still.

Somewhere twenty minutes later, the girl in the back says, "Can we close the window?"

Finally close it, I say.

And then I remembered, after the washing the salon was ventilated and to see then not all the windows closed.

They don’t talk, I don’t talk, introverts are dumb.

Please mention the Constitution in the Bible.

Gastronomy in Georgian

“He pulled my tongue. I would go and go. I would have been silent and my life would have gone differently.” – Lenka sent me a sms at 9 a.m. The level of drama jumped even through the phone and I suddenly woke up.

Lena is my childhood friend. She did not live in Tbilisi for a long time, we went to the garden together. Then they moved, but once every five years she broke out to a small, hotly beloved homeland and we had time to discuss five-year events in a few days.

In this five-year-old, Lena brought her second husband to the Black Sea, and we planned to break up after her marine mess. This is a SMS. I crushed Lena, a girlfriend had to be saved.

Below is the short story of Lenny. Shortly but literally.

“On Monday, in the first evening, we returned with Lesha from the beach. There was great weather, and in the courtyard of our gesture house, which you advised me, the owners of Nukri and Nino were roasting strawberries with friends. As I passed by the mangal, I caught it and said, “What an appetizing smell!” It was the failure of Stirling. An hour later, Nikush, the son of the masters, knocked into our room and silently stretched a deep plate of shale. It was uncomfortable, but we took it and ate it all for dinner. No, they didn’t eat – they ate, because wild is delicious. With your red half dry.
The next day, I bought the chocolate, put it on a plate and returned it.

On Wednesday evening they knocked on the door and there was Nikush with a hot hatchapuri dish. “Mom asked to tell me that the chocolate was very delicious,” the child said to a Georgian Russian and left. That hatchapuri deprived us of the gift of speech, it was ambrosia. The plate had to be returned. I was not allowed to buy a second chocolate in the years of my childhood spent in Tbilisi, and Nino was not repeated in dishes.

On Thursday morning we planned a steam ride, but I cancelled everything and stopped. Lisha said, “Forces of heaven, did I wait for the blines,” but Lisha had nothing to do with it. Cooked for two and a half hours. I haven’t tried that since my first wedding. By 2 p.m. I was standing at the door of the feeders with a mountain of thin up-and-coming blinkers. Nuh accepted the gift and worshipped him galantly. Well, I think it is not ashamed. People have hospitality, and we have chocolate, shame.

On the fifth day, when they knocked on the door in the evening, I was somewhat stressed. Behind the door was Nikusha, smiling extending a serving dish of 32 x 32 x 4 cm, the color ivory manufacturer Italy, up to the top filled with pink peaches, cracking sugar inks, glowing juicy apples, nuts and sparkling black grapes. The smell of the dish was such that I eventually took a bite. We did not go to dinner in the evening, but went to bed and looked at Minino and under the Bubu, Frunzik and white dried smoothed all the fruits.

On Saturday, instead of a dolphinarium, I, filled up with yesterday’s vitamins, started making chicken. I remembered the homework lessons at school and started. Lecha said she didn’t know much about me. The chicken was ready closer to lunch and lay exactly on the whole dish. We carried him both. The owner was not at home and we handed it over to their old grandmother. Grandma raised her eyebrows. Lisha then offered me to go to the bar, but I was so tired that I stayed in the room to drink wine and google phali recipes.

On the seventh day we returned from the beach, and Nikushah was at the gate. When he saw us, he officially approached and said, “Mom and Dad ask you to come in for a minute at 8 o’clock” and ran away. Lecha said it wasn’t easy and asked me how much I think Hennessey XO is worth here. I said here to my hennessy in the throat, who is giving you what. Probably a piano. An ancient icon. Or Shakespeare's tomic with the signature of Shakespeare himself. At 8 o’clock, I stood in my evening dress and Lecha in my shoes at the door of Nukri. The table was divided into two rooms, guests were seated by 40 people. Everything was on the tables on the three floors. Everything that grows, breathes, soaks, bleeds, foams, collapses in Georgia. Nukri raised his arms, smiled, approached us and said, "go through dear guests, we just had a little barbecue here, a modest lunch, we will be happy to share with you. You gave us this cake, we are now your debtors.” “Lena, make a chicken again, I’ll kill you,” Lecha whispered.

Now on Tuesday we go to Grandpa Vano for the 80th anniversary, on Thursday we gather in Tbilisi near Anzor for the anniversary of the wedding, and in December we should come to the baptism of the little Zuriko. It is obligatory.

We met the whole street, neighbors and relatives. We are invited to drink coffee on the first floor, then have breakfast on the second floor, then play nard in the opposite house. In the evening, drink beer in the yard and eat dinner together. It’s a kind of one huge house and an endless lunch in it.

I didn’t burn, I didn’t look at dolphins. I have flour, eggs, yeast, 4 kilos of lambs and sunny hemp in my room. Bottles of wine and cups are even in the bathroom. I haven’t made a single selfie and I already understand something in Georgian. Lecha has recovered 3 kg and is considering buying a house here.

I just said how delicious it smells, Valya.
How are you living here, right?”

c) Valentina Semilet

News of the day: "Sberbank warned about the possibility of two waves of coronavirus in Russia"
Note, not the Ministry of Health, and not even Rospotrebnadzor - Sberbank is confusing and cares about the health of people.
Thus the Russians were able to feel in themselves all the depth and wisdom of the proverb: Your life is not indifferent only to the one to whom you owe.

A new chain in Iran, Muslims lick mosque gates to prove that they are not afraid of the coronavirus, and Allah will protect them from it. We wish this trend to become viral.

God must be in the heart, not in the Constitution.