Remember to! If you put your daddy’s stuff on and you put a ribbon on your beard, you’re not a hipster yet.

Letis: 12-15 years ago, near the neighbors burned an insured good house - the only housing of the elderly. Insurance was paid. All of. Up to a penny. Enough to build a street toilet. Without any comments.

Money smells of desire.

The story of the Baking Vitu from May 8 was revealed.
A small continuation about the grandfather, a Romanian guy, a machine gunman.
After the war and a year and a half of treatment in Tbilisi, he was sent home. He returned, well, as he returned - they dropped from the truck a bag and his, weighing 60 kg, with a broken unhealing face, without teeth, with unworking fingers and 3 pieces in the head, back and leg. My wife and daughter are at home and I don’t know what to do next. Before the war, he was a young peasant, a middle man, a pair of horses, 12 tenths of fields. The Romanians took horses, withdrew, and the Soviets took the land after the war to the collective farm. Invalid, there was no help at first - many of them, disabled in the war, without hands, feet, housing and food sat and asked for charity near the stations and other places. True, in the famine of 46-47 years in the USSR quickly disappeared (all from the words of the grandfather, there were even facts about which he told about the famine, about them I just silence, it is too shocking).
At first, a year after his arrival he drank (it is now psychologists), at night he held the defense next to his frightened wife and daughter. But to live it has to, came a little into himself, began to look for a way out. Cologne is not an option - is there a disability? Be careful, but he wasn’t the only one who came. I went from no way out to risk - in the Stalinic, I will remind you of the times, I began to drive salad to other regions, to boat the bish. Initially, the authorities looked at it through their fingers - the situation was like this, so it was easy to believe about the bacon Vitu. He carried the salad with suitcases to Central Russia, to Volgodon, went to the builders, sold them, brought back fabrics, soap and other necessary things in the farm. For several years he lived like this, but as it was on the ring - "and it will pass." One day came a local from the "Stats" and said that, say, all Ivan, tie and tell yours (at the end of them several relatives went). Well, the grandfather decided that the law was not written for him, he continued to drive. And here, they return on the train back, and while the train brakes, they see that on the perron stands a police force, a few people in the state, among them a local. Clearly who they are behind. The grandfather quickly squeezes the conductor 25 rubles (big money at the time) and asks to open the doors from the perron first. The conductor opens, they jump and suitcases run while the conductor runs with the door to the perron. After all, those who run into the wagon of the state and dress are late. But realizing that this is far from the end, the grandfather throws the goods from a familiar Jew, and bullets into his native village. There he goes into the tea room (the villa was big), takes a bottle, drinks 3 cups almost while snacking, and beats the face of a companion standing next to him. The fight, the local district also falls under distribution, they scattered half the tea. Well, they turned, they ordered to design. Here, the staff and clothes come in, run to the grandfather, say, he is you, a speculator and so on, standing, thinking, you will escape from the train - and that's all? The grandfather looked at them, “What kind of train? Have you fooled?” The district confirms - yes, he drunk here a tea breeze, raised his hand on me, painted a couple more (well, it wasn't very good at the time, but the staff on the car was driving longer than he got). The expression of the faces of the states we can only imagine, history has not captured them))
And for the fight the grandfather had nothing - a disabled, an injury, a yellow card. Well, at most, they could be sent to the psychiatrist for treatment, but decided to shut up.
True, no longer speculated, the lesson was learned.
This is a small, not entirely ornamental, tour at the time.

It’s angry when you get into a trolleybus with the inscription “To Berlin” and it takes you to Vyhino.

A random conversation in the dining room:
What does Edward do with the coffee maker?
yyy: He is trying to get the cockroach out of there, who got there at night.
Do we have cockroaches in the dining room?? to
zzz: We have someone in our department named "Edward"!?! to
(xxx - new employee, zzz - has been working for more than 5 years, working with Edward in the same department)

My mother does not respect domestic refrigerators - we have one and it works poorly: it is constantly moist inside, constantly freezing. Per the fact is that the water stream is stuck and no one cleans it, but it doesn’t matter – our refrigerators are bad and it’s a fact.

Sometimes to start with yourself is like polishing copper on the Titanic. He is drowning. Your efforts will not work out.

I don’t tell anyone "start with yourself". There is no garbage on the street, I plant trees from time to time, I throw plastic into a special container, there is no dog, so there is no one to clean. But all my actions do not affect either the alcoholics who hurt on the streets, nor the people with reduced social responsibility who throw away garbage, nor the mosavtodor, who in the seventh year, as if asked for it, can not bring in order 500 meters, dirt and remnants of asphalt that serve.
Walking the way home.
I can’t change the asphalt myself. How do I "start with myself"?

This

Without a doubt, "Unknown on the moon" is a thing for all times (it's from it quotes stick to place and not especially). But here is one nuance there is - Ponchik in a month has risen from a boomer to a millionaire. Of course, this is depicted with condemnation, but nevertheless... Or the main emphasis on the fact that he is [s]examiner[/s] _our_ fucking son?

You probably read the diagonals. Ponchik rose on an innovative start-up, introducing salt into food, and rose quickly. However, just as quickly and returned back to the bombs, as the local oligarch Dracula, who owned the land on the coast with salt, decided that the necklace on his site was free to extract minerals, and drove all the tiny shushers out of business, taxing all these startups with excessive royalties, after which the formation of Ponchik as a barracks in the amusement park began.

What is your destruction? The old woman with a whistle? The witch that broke all the glasses, extinguished all the lamps? She does not exist at all. What do you mean by this word? It is this: if I, instead of operating every night, start singing a choir in my apartment, I will be destroyed. If I, entering the bathroom, begin, sorry for the expression, to urinate past the toilet and the same will be done by Zina and Daria Petrovna, the bathroom will begin to ruin. Consequently, the destruction is not in the clothes, but in the heads. So when these baritons shout “be the ruin!” – I laugh. I swear to you, I am funny. This means that each of them should scratch themselves in the back of the neck! And now, when he clears out all kinds of hallucinations and takes on cleansing the barracks — his direct business — the ruin will disappear by itself. You cannot serve two gods. It is impossible at the same time to melt tram routes and arrange the fate of some foreign outsiders! This is not successful for anyone, doctor, and especially for people who, in general, have lagged back in development from Europeans for 200 years, still do not quite confidently fasten their own pants!

by Mikhail Bulgakov. The dog heart.

Macron is still a man of words. In the first grade, he told his teacher that he would marry her, and then he got married!

"And you read memories of people from the occupied territories". The memories of the Germans.
From a letter to a friend of the eferrier Felix Candels: “After crossing the boxes and arranging a good dinner, we started to have fun. The girl got bad, but we organized her too. No problem, all the department... don’t worry. I remember the counsel of the lieutenant, and the girl is dead like a grave.
The soldier told his parents: “On the second day of our forest march we arrived in the village. Cows and pigs walked through the streets. Even chickens and goats. Each department immediately slaughtered a pig, chicken and goat. Unfortunately, in such villages we stayed for one day and could not take a lot with us. We lived all that day. I ate at least two pounds of fried pork, a whole chicken, a bowl of potatoes, and another one and a half liters of milk. How it was delicious! But now we usually get into villages that are already captured by soldiers, and in them everything is united. Even in the boxes and in the basements, there is nothing left.”

After the Soviet assault of the German Königsberg in the zoo survived only the henot, lama and begemot Hans. And Hans survived not very: 7 injuries. It is easy to get to Behemoth. Zoo technician Vladimir Polonsky saved Hansa and kept a diary:
He accepted treatment for begemot on April 14, 1945. It was the first time I helped with water. Then I tried to give him milk. Next time the cabbage. Beethoven went to eat. But three days later he refused. I rushed to get a vodka. I gave 4 liters. After that, Behemot began to ask for food. I first put the enema (4 liters of distilled water), then started feeding it. Behemot tried to go out, but since he was drunk, he snorted himself... Behemot began to eat, but he did not recover. I put a second enema (4 liters of distilled water). Beethoven was recovering.
Two weeks have passed. Beethoven eats poorly. I decided to give vodka - 4 liters. Beethoven began to eat well. But back came the shutdown. I put another clitoris. Beethoven is fixed,
He eats badly. I decided to give vodka (4 liters), and the begemot began to eat great. There were unpleasant days, I eliminated them by changing meals. He managed to save Behemot without leaving him after 21 days. After 1 month and 19 days I have achieved complete health and now I am engaged in the training of the begemot as riding on the begemot in the park, etc.

Hitler’s coat!
Really a coat!

Well, here I bring the garbage to the urn and clean up for my dogs. There are acquaintances who do the same. And at the same time, there are people walking nearby, who get to pick up their own dog fucking, even in the micro-area and hanging a bunch of containers with bags, and shrimpers, which collapse in all respects in the same place where they eat. They say "Start with yourself" is useless – "What is this? Let the doors clean, we pay the money!". Someone has noticed here that on Saturdays those who do not waste, clean up the shit. Pigs are cleaner, honest word, they, animals, sting at the maximum distance from the place where they eat.

Old but in place.
I am ashamed that I am Russian.
“Don’t worry, many here are ashamed that you are Russian.

There was everything in the war. And German soldiers rescued Soviet children, and Soviet soldiers murdered, robbed and raped civilians in Europe. Simply "uncomfortable" facts are well filtered. There was no internet, it was much easier to control the people.

Everything happened in the war, you are right. And cases of barbarism, rape among Soviet soldiers of course happened. The only punishment for this was a shot. And this is not propaganda, this was told to me by a participant in the event.
The Germans are harder. There were also cases of rescuing children, and entire families, and even Jews (now about this Oscar-winning films are filming, a blessed theme). It was only more common when the Germans burned each village together with the inhabitants, but if they suspected ties with the partisans, they must be burned.
Well, about the memories of the inhabitants of the occupation I do not need to read - two aunts lived under the Germans for six months, I still remember how their faces darkened when the conversation about it entered. They didn’t like to tell the truth about it, they were limited to "terrible it was", "abuse", once only I, a 10-year-old boy, listened to how they and some other aunt remembered it. Really scary.

(I don’t know how to cook)

I’m cooking a bouillon here. Guess which one.
Well, maybe a chicken?
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Now guess how I understood it.
Is it written on the label?
XHH : No.
Do you know how to distinguish meat?
HHH: Nor is it.
I am lost in guessing.
There, in the pot, the pen swims.
O O O O O O

War and the Germans

My grandmother was a child in the occupied territory. Belarus, Bobrovich - if anyone is interested. And she said that the German threw her a piece of bread, just after burning a couple of houses with people alive inside in his company. The kindness so and perla, yersh your copper.