Motherland, country and state are born at the same time, but are raised in different families.

My father for the mushrooms.

A friend once told me how they and a friend stumbled in the woods on a white barrel.
The baskets were already full, so the place was remembered, marked on the navigator. And went further home.
The next day they came back – they can’t find this pollen. The navigator indicates that they are in place. Everyone was around – there was no one.

My dad and I had the opposite.

He loved the forest very much. He has led me for mushrooms since my very youth. And the phrase “silent hunting” I heard from him for the first time.
If we were going somewhere far away and for a long time, he was wearing a kirzachi. I bought my first shoes when I was 4-5 years old.

By the way. - an interesting nuance of the era of the early sixties - in the store sold children's boots. And bought them.
I remember my pleasure when I tightly wrapped my booty, wrapped my foot in my boots, and slightly sinked, to feel that my foot in the booty is like poured.

I remember that my father and I often drove the 33rd kilometre. This road is called the A-108.

They came on the track, caught the trunk... The father said to the driver, “Thirty-third...”

They came out of the high cabin of the truck, crossed the road... There was a breeze hole. My father cut off the stick for me and for himself, he must have found a white on that stick, and we went deep into the forest.

Once there was no white on that shovel. My father chewed her over and over again. I started asking, “Dad! Let’s go further!”
He said, “The weather. I always take the first white from here...” But then he found a spoon of a newly cut white mushroom, and calmed himself: “Look, he was waiting for us, and we were late.” Let us go further.

At one time or another, we will walk with him somewhere in the woods. They went deeper, the roads are almost no longer heard. I went ahead of him when I heard from behind, “What did you go past the mushrooms?” I look around, he points to the pads with a stick. Large, next to him - a little smaller, and quite small - fifteen centimeters from them.
He leaned with a knife to the mushrooms – he never broke them, only cut them. He says, "This small... and to leave it for nothing - will dry when the big cut, and to take away why this little thing."

I said, “Dad! Look, these mushrooms are like mom, dad and son. Let it grow and let it grow.”
The father again explained that the fungus was one, and when he cut these mushrooms, it would stop growing. I did not agree. Dad was a little angry that I didn’t believe him, and said, “Look, we’ll come here after tomorrow – you’ll see!”
I looked around, the same forest. I say, “How do we find this place?” the father smiled, “This is a forest. How can you get lost here?He approached the ass, and made a knife at the eye level half the size of my palm.

And here we wander through this forest again, I have forgotten about that mushroom for the past two days, again ahead of my father, and suddenly hear from behind: "Look, you see! I told you...” He points with a stick to the dried dry mushroom. I’m looking for pins from those he cut around yesterday, and I don’t find them. I say, “This is exactly the place?” the father answers, “Of course...” And here I was surprised. He lifts up his eyes, turns his head, and looks for an ass and a snare on it. He finds and shows me.

That is to say, deep in the forest, which seemed to me quite monotonous, he easily recognised the smallest cane, found that tiny mushroom in this grass, and it turns out that the hose was even superfluous for him.

He died when I was seven.

I love to go for mushrooms, but I rarely go out, and I find few.

On the photo, I am 2 years and 11 months old. He photographed him.

Childhood ends at the moment when you stop fearing to donate blood for analysis and start to fear its results.

I had once. I press the computer button and immediately a terrible whisper, knock and crush and crack. I am accustomed to computer breakdowns, but my legs were pulled up so that my legs would not break away from the disc that had broken. I just perceived so. That it was Winchester that started and flew away. Or the SD. It turned out that exactly at the moment when I pressed the switch button, someone behind the wall started drilling something, it seemed. A few seconds came to himself.

There have been several times in my memory when I was accepted not for who I am.

A couple of times I passed by the mom with the capricious child, who got hysterical, and they, calming the child, pointed to me with a finger and said, "stop, or that uncle will steal you." What is most interesting, it helped - the child, raising his head from the ground and looking with his rotting eyes, for a while smiled and scanned me from foot to head: the truth will steal or not. As if he was not a Gypsy, he did not want to steal anyone.



A couple of times the bombs approached, asked how to go to the store or to the pebble. The last such incident was last weekend.

I go, I do not touch anyone, people in front and behind me, who go where, the movement is lively. Suddenly I see a bomb moving. Compared to me for some reason, he stops and says, “Brother, where is the beer shop here?” I answer that he needs to go straight, on the first light on the right, and there he will rise straight into him. “Direct to him?He almost shouted joyfully. “Right in him,” I answered. "Oh, thank you, brother," says the bomb and joyfully goes to meet the adventures. And I go, and in my head revolves “brother, brother.” Even looking at himself: maybe the jacket in dirt, or broken-no, everything is okay.



There was a recent case.

I went to a friend for a visit. I approach the entrance at the agreed time, I stand, write a text message to a friend: I came. My friend says it will come out now. I am at the door, waiting. Here, a woman approaches the entrance with bags, puts them on the asphalt and depicts a pause. He stands and looks at me. I am not attentive, I stand, I wait. Two minutes passed, and it was cold on the street, I was still walking for twenty minutes, frozen. I think I think I’m getting hot. I walked away from the door, slowly so along the house I walk, my feet snoop. I went from the door to the neighboring entrance, I turned, I went back and I saw a woman picking up the bags, approaching the door and quickly closing it behind her. I approach the door and immediately comes out with the words: "On the stairs I met the older woman in the house, she said that on the street some addict is trembling, so that I don't think about letting him in the entrance, I immediately realized that it was you" and cried. On the one hand, I laugh, and on the other, I want to cry.

Is that what is wrong with me?

It is unfortunate though)

The daughter (years 5 she was then, what) somehow in the pool is playing, I close to the "spiders" relax, half-eyed looking at her.

She went to talk to a girl instructor. We talked about something, laughed, and broke up. He plays further.

Then I saw that the girl was thinking about something. Suits to me.

Do you want to meet that aunt? He nodded to the instructor.

No, not very much. I am embarrassed.

Go and get acquainted!

Why to me? ! to What shall I tell her?

Say, “What is your name?”

It turns out that she forgot her name, and here she came up with a way to recognize him again. and :)

In the fourth grade we had graduation controls in mathematics and Russian language. I handed them over for five, and the rest of the time our cool manager decided to talk to us. Who he wants to be when he grows up. The turn comes to me and I say that I want to become an engineer-constructor in the aviation industry.

Instead of praise, she gave out that I was a fool and nothing good would grow out of me. I was so offended, 23 years have passed, and I don’t even know who glued her replacement shoes in the closet that day.

Unfortunately, the dream of becoming an engineer did not come true. At that time, the training cost horse money, and the budget was not enough points.

A lot can be achieved with a well-developed self-awareness. Self-respect for example.

Another ballad about customs
The year 1863. and Yokohama. A Dutch merchant from a newly arrived ship passes through the customs. Among the declared objects is a cage with 1 (one) living tiger for the Kyoto animal. Customs officials say they do not have any tigers on the list of taxable goods, they cannot determine the tariff, which means they are not entitled to pass the animal. The Dutch is hysterical. First, bringing the tiger back is a terrible expense, secondly, the deal will collapse... And the customs officers were so busy that they didn’t even react to the hints of gratitude, unlimited within reasonable limits. The buyer desperately demanded the Dutch consul.
A consul appeared, an unwavering red guy in a penny, looked at the merchant, the customs officers, the tiger and said that the customs officers were right. They are not obliged to meet and make additions to the tariff policy. And since the ship has already departed from loading, the merchant has nothing left but to forget about that money and release the tiger, since it is impossible to make a profit from it.
Where are the freedoms? - Where are the freedoms? here here?
- And where? - asked the consul. - He can't let him out behind the gates, it will be the carriage into the country of non-customs goods. Only here.
He will eat us!
I don’t know, I don’t think he’s hungry. And it clearly struck him. But it does not matter. Property is sacred and my guardian can dispose of his own as he pleases. Under Japanese law, of course. But the law does not prohibit it, right? So, I think we have come to a completely legal and mutually pleasant solution. I have honor.
The tiger was instantly expropriated and moved peacefully to the old capital.

As soon as Golikova said that it is necessary to be sober for vaccination, and also after 42 days not to drink - I immediately realized that mass vaccination in Russia has failed.

My grandmother told me that my grandfather was a joke. The village, the heat, the grandfather and the neighbor communicate and the neighbor asks:

When will it rain?

The grandfather answers:

I’ll tell you when it goes.

The neighbor did not understand anything, and they separated.

A few days later, at two o’clock in the night, a neighbor wakes up by knocking on the window:

Get up, the rain is coming!

It rained at night and went away.

It may be a banal thing, but the story delighted me. Grandfather was not alive for a long time at the time, and grandmother thought it was just a talk, but met a neighbor and he confirmed that grandfather in the night was all restored and demanded to go out to watch the long-awaited rain.

It is inappropriate to repair the water pipeline.

It is good to sell bottled water.

In 2004, Yuri Trutnev was appointed Minister of Natural Resources of Russia. After 3 years, the share of the contribution of the Ministry of Nature to the country’s budget increased from about 30% to 54 (I don’t remember the exact figures, approximately, for understanding the situation).
First of all, not because of the rise in oil prices, but because of the fact that he canceled all competitions for fields, when the most "beautiful" project won, replacing them with direct auctions - whoever paid more to the country's budget is the winner.
The average cost of the field increased 18 times, despite all the statements of the previous management that “the price is the limit for business.”
One of the first trips of the new minister was to Siberia, "Surgutneftegaz".
They arrived, brought them to the management, the control room. The head of the shift in a suit, tie, unused newly purchased shoes read-and-ported. A high guest proposes to go to the drill. They went.
On the drill also some boss in a suit and tie, a new helmet and a brand jacket said something boldly.
Trutnev, looking at the working installation, asks him something of the type from which horizon at what compression the habit goes. (I’m never a oilman, I don’t even know words like that.)
The slightly squeezed chief thinks, he is immediately helped by a master in rubber boots, a roasted jacket and a squeezed helmet, who boycotted a conversation with the minister.
The suspect Bogdanov, co-owner and president of "Surgutneftegaz", quietly asks the press secretary of the minister, and what education has Trutnev?
He was a mountain engineer and started working on a drill.
– Oh, b.yayaya... – stumbled Bogdanov, already realizing that now, smiling at him, the minister will say.

- Name one promise made by Putin to the Russians, which he kept.
Putin: If you have been president for seven years, you can go crazy (February 2004).

The case was in the UAE in the distant 2011 year. We gathered together with our small but friendly company at the Pool Party in Abu Dhabi. In one of the local (naturally 5* hotel such took place (and take place)) regularly and were a place of unforgettable impressions! Cocktails, calyan, a huge swimming pool and chic music (heh, it was the time of my unrestricted youth). We were four people: I, my boss, his girlfriend and another of our common friends from work. As responsible people who were going to drink that day, we decided to take a taxi. We arrived at the destination, safely extinguished until 2 o’clock at night and it was time to go home, naturally, again by taxi. The swimsuits are wet, above them the usual clothes - T-shirts, shorts.

The boss calls a taxi and tells the operator that we were at the Pool party and we’re a little “moist” so, plus, send a car that won’t bother us pick up. It is done, the taxi has arrived.

We go, we suspect nothing. And here the taxi driver tells us that, say, to drive far away (in fact not), and he has gasoline at zero. Say, guys, (I will mention that for all the stay in the Emirates and almost daily trips by taxi - this was the only time the taxi driver decided to go to the gas station) I will quickly jump to the gas station, fill the tank and go on. I immediately suspected the wrong thing, but everything looked quite adequate and we were seated, so the trip to the gasoline seemed to us a wonderful adventure)) We went to the gasoline, the taxi driver (born in India), asked us "for our own safety" to get out of the car until it fills up, or "no." We went out. Mr. Hindu began a routine refuelling of the car and unexpectedly opened the back door of the car, allegedly looking for something from personal items. And here began the most interesting thing. Next: (T) is a taxi driver, (N) is my boss.



T: No, guys, it won’t go, look, there’s a wet spot on the rear seat – some of you haven’t dried out the swimsuit and now my seat is wet.

N: So I mentioned the operator where we need to be picked up and specifically pointed out that we are not quite dry.

T: I know nothing sir. It is trouble! Sitting is wet (a little bit).

N: I don’t know anything too, I warned – call the operator, clarify what to do about it? ! to

T: Comrade, you know where we are. It is easier for me to call the police than the operator. Do you want to spend the rest of the night at the police station? The seat is wet, I now need to go to the washing machine (p*del, as breathed, taxi driver).

N: Do you not think you are exaggerating the scale of the tragedy?

T:...Taking your hands up to heaven (calling Krishna, apparently)... you are wasting your time and my time, guys! Either you pay me 100 dirhams for a car wash ($35 at the time), or I call the police.

Call the police and we will find out!

N: BotyaB, get up! Okay, comrade, I will pay you 100 dirhams. Fill up and go.

T: Money for the “damage” forward.

N: Okay... I counted with the driver...



We sat in the car again and spent the rest of the way home quietly. Only the outgoing taxi driver tried all the way to "explain" to us what good deeds to get rid of a wet spot from someone's ass (per from mine), he will let the 35 backs he just received.



We arrived at home, each walked around his villa in a slightly decaying mood and full of the feeling that we had just been unconsciously separated. Read on Bali.



My chief was not from the timid dozen and the next day wrote an official complaint to the taxi service with a full description of the conflict. The driver was fired (there is a crowd of people in line for work anyway) and brought their deepest apologies. Plus, a loan for the next 10 free trips was issued to him to compensate for moral and material damage. I love when justice triumphs.

One woman, an administrator 20 years older than me, was constantly stressed with requests to pull water in bottles for coolers. I usually don’t have trouble wearing replaced bottles even though I don’t have anything to do with this at all. And on one day she already told me with a claim that you had to put water yesterday, but did not put water so go and put it. What do I owe it to? I owe nothing. You can ask I can agree to help. Or not. She grit you are not a man so you have to help as a man. I speak well then tomorrow morning please, as a woman, swallow me a set of working clothes. Take the form in my closet and hang it there later. I thought she would break. The guy didn’t have to retreat. This was done in the room with my colleagues. Until now, the tooth is scratching and licking a little bit) but directly to me with requests does not address anymore.

Discussing the work of plants.



I wonder how this process is going.

Tax, Ivan Ivanovich Ivanovich from Urupinsk owed 100k. We open the Uryupinsk base, sort by Ivanov Ivanovich. We choose anyone. Take off 100k. Ready to go. Or they come up with their passport numbers, snills, hills. This is all the code of the beast, Satanism fucking.

The Russian government is always ready to provide fraternal assistance to white bears in the Arctic, elephants in Africa and penguins in Antarctica.

My colleague has five birthday... for different pizzerias! I ordered pizza five times a year at a discount.

The main role in the film Tarzan will always be given to a white actor, because the Disney studio will not have enough eggs to show a film where the black not only looks like a monkey, but also behaves the same way.