The youngest son, 5 years old, introduced the class "Financial literacy" in the kindergarten. At the first class, the children were told about salary, pensions, scholarships, benefits.

Sometimes when the son doesn’t want to go to kindergarten, we tell him that the parents go to work, the sister to school, and he goes to the kindergarten to work.

So, after the first class he asks us in the morning:

Mom and Dad! I have been working in the garden for so many years, where is my salary? I want money!

How I am bombarded! I was delivered from the United States, by ocean, for 2 months - first with a junk barge by ocean, then by a truck through half-Europe. I came to Moscow. Day of silence, two, three - on the 10th day the back number "for yesterday" appears information that the parcel has not been received by the recipient (although it has not even reached the department) and is sent back. I see - today the package lies on the sorting at the Kazan station in Moscow. I went to the post office - "We do not know anything, we did not come, go to the central office." I go there - there "we have no information about your shipment at all, go to the department where you ordered." The circle closed. I call the hotline - "oh, all the information only in the departments, all the complaints there in writing, we are generally useless shit." I call the sorting company - I explain that the package lies, I have to go 7 km before you, and if you do not give out - then the package will circle the globe for a moment. There they say to me, "Everything is predetermined, nothing to do, no, we cannot stop the shipments, everything is ruined and inevitable." I go back to my office. Suddenly I am so told that it turns out that "the index was incorrectly entered." I ask the seller to send the shipping data, drop - we look together with the employees - the index is correct on the packaging, everything is OK. Everyone breeds their hands - "well, type, everything is okay, but fuck the horse, nothing can be changed, you can only leave a written complaint." Well, what to do, I leave a complaint, attach the data from the seller, assure the head of OPS.



The parcel goes back through all of Europe on a freight car, loads on a barge, again a month and a half sails to the U.S. across the ocean, there goes to the desired city, the seller comes to the office, taking on the phone receives the box and immediately sends it back, not unpacking, removing only excess papers. The package goes by truck to the coast, loads on the already favorite barge, another month and a half, Germany, the Czech Republic, Poland, Belarus, and here's the shit - and I calmly get it in the department! All the same box that was sent the first time, with the same address! Is that shit to call it?



And the complaint? And what the complaint, 45 days later the letter came - "we are very sad that you do not like our services, but you are a fool, the address was entered incorrectly, we wish you not to be such a fool in the trail. once.” They did not even read the complaint, apparently the text of the response is automatically generated because of the package specified to the track on the last day of the response deadline.

And what about the fact that when you choose your date of birth in any form on the Internet, before you had to go through a little bit. And now you’re wrapping up, wrapping up, wrapping up...

The house is not built from the foundation, but from the roof.

About thugs and fools.

There is such a country far away. of New Zealand. A long and expensive journey there. Really shit of the world.
The fact 1. The government of the country has ruled that anyone who for any reason is stuck on the islands and has no money to get home will be able to fly back at the expense of the state. Anywhere in the world. But if he ever decides to return, then when he returns he will have to return NZ that money. What a small hole, will say the lovers of the hole.
The fact 2. Elections are coming in the country. One of the programs discussed is the offer of a helicopter: all citizens of the country regardless of age, status and nationality receive $250 a week. $36,500 a year for the simple possession of a passport for a family of 3 people. Not badly? What a fool, will our especially gifted economists say. Inflation, depreciation and so on. Where they will get the money, our even more gifted ministers, who get hundreds of millions for what is unclear, will say. But not everything is so simple. In the first, there is no minister with an annual salary of $10 million. Everyone works professionally. Secondly, all social benefits are cancelled, except for single, such as payment for a unique operation for sick children. In the third, it becomes profitable to work with anyone and as much as you want. And no one will take this payment as unemployment allowance if you suddenly want to work. In the fourth, the incredible number of unemployed people who issue and control benefits is decreasing. Working becomes profitable. Families with children are given a forum in front of the single ones. The calculations indicate that the helicopter has arrived! Given that payments stimulate labor and production, not police and officials, inflation is not visible from the word at all. Let’s see who and where the real idiots are.

It is very unfortunate that our so-called deputies, who have personally created personal aquariums, will never create anything like this for people. You will draw your own conclusions from history.

Despite the fall in oil prices, the fall in gasoline prices was avoided.

If money is taken out of Russia, it means they are not able to behave here.

In the fifth grade I enrolled in the math circles at the Pioneer Palace of Leningrad, which was on Nevsky Avenue. We lived on the outskirts and the parents were afraid to let the 11-year-old child alone.
But the father said, “Let it be better to ride around the city than to talk in the courtyard.”
My mom told me, "Be careful: the center is full of hooligan, thieves and... The prostitutes!”
Of course, I had an idea of who the prostitutes were, but I didn’t really understand why they needed me, so I didn’t give much importance to my mom’s words. And in vain!
Near the entrance to the Pioneer Palace, I was surrounded by a crowd of girls of about my age. They began to hold my hands and demand, “Let’s go with us!”
I said, “These are the prostitutes! Mom was right!“He escaped from them and fled.

Ten years later, when I met my future wife, she told me:
“I wanted to sign up for the Pioneer Palace Dance Circle. As long as they were registered, mostly girls, the girl was accepted there only if she brought a partner. So the girls tried to tempt the boys who went into the other circles to accept them.”

I told her that story.
“We could have met ten years earlier.” I noticed my bride.
I said, “It is unlikely! If I knew it wasn’t a prostitutes, but a dance circle, I’d run even faster!”

How much money from our taxes was spent on the creation of the Novichok?
Why is Novichok inferior to Western analogues?
How can we a 100% lethal outcome?

This and much more in the new investigation of Alexei Navalny on corruption in the field of the development of combat poisons.

One day a friend invited me to a free meeting dedicated to a new fashion industry in which she wanted to work. The meeting was held in a large restaurant with a stage for speakers.

I came early, sat down at a free table closer to the stage and waited for a friend. Suddenly I see two strangers argue emotionally, constantly pointing their fingers at me. They stood far enough so they couldn’t be heard, but I decided to have a conversation about “all the babies are like that...” and got stuck in the phone.

At the end of the meeting, they announce that a ticket for the conference (which at the time was worth 15k) will be played now, and it was already glued under one of the chairs in advance. I checked out, bingo! I have a ticket.

By that time I already knew that the two men were the organizers of the meeting, so I angered them by accidentally sitting in a place specially designed for the pre-selected "winner" :D

Horrible creatures are these “mothers.” I have encountered something similar this year. It was so. Near my house there is one district that I call the "Komsomol town". In the late 1940s and early 1950s. In the last century, they built cozy two-storey brick houses. The area is remotely reminiscent of the American suburbs from Hollywood films. Between these houses spread beautiful, though underground courtyards. Spatial, many greens, pavilions, gardens and shrines.



On weekends, when the weather is sunny, I sometimes go to this Komsomol town, taking a thermos with me, coffee, sandwiches and a good book. I did just that recently. He came to this district, sat down on the bench, poured himself a coffee shop and opened the tomic of Strugacki (decided to read "The City Destined").



Next to my location was a children’s playground. Nearby at 10-12 meters. There were five children playing in silence. I periodically broke away from the book, grabbed coffee and looked around the surroundings. Just to translate the spirit from the story tricks "City". Sometimes my gaze fell on the children who were driving on the pitch, but they were not interested in me more than the loud leaves in the wind or the car that passed far away. Suddenly I heard a woman’s scream:



Why are you sitting here watching our children?



I didn’t even understand at first who it was, what it was about and what it was about. And then I saw two carnivorous girls of the 30s coming up to me because of the playground. They move threateningly, almost stunned. One of them screamed.



Why are you sitting here? Go, go away from here! Now I’ll call your husband, he’ll break your face!



I was almost in shock. The moms were moving, shouting something about the children, about going away, about the fact that my husband is a boxer, etc. I tried to apologize, but my voice drowned in their hole. And I, feeling guilty without guilt, threw the thermos and the book into the backpack, and then hurriedly removed it.



I still go to the Komsomol town, but now I just go for a walk. To sit with a book in the courtyard on the bench or in the pavilion I am now afraid. Little of something.

xxx: And I was asked by a psychiatrist during the replacement procedure if I could not hear the voice. In the corner of the cabinet stood two pots with deadly dried ficus. I said I hear it sometimes. Someone in your office is asking for a drink. Looking through the office, the doctor shaken and promised to fly flowers, gave a certificate. Am I really hearing it???? to

yyy: Capec you are brave, I would honestly not be able to joke at the reception of a psychiatrist especially about voices

XXX: The votes are not allowed.

YYY: I can’t hear :)))

This is for you to the otolaryngologist.

I do repairs in my aunt's apartment, the apartment is in Akademgorodka, there is also a military school nearby, which trains including intelligence. In this same school there are a handful of students of different nationalities, including blacks.

So, I leave this apartment, the time is already dark, but the lighting has not been turned on yet. And then a kind of version of the Baskervili dog moves on me – that is, eyes and mouths, full of teeth, but all this without the body... Just the Negro actually had all the clothes black :).

I say rather from surprise:

You have disguised yourself!

The body is satisfied and

I am studying for the detective.

That’s what, and the “Dick” finally got me :)

I was 5. I went with my father to the garage. Go to go. My dad bought me a bowl of soda and ice cream. Something else I haven’t seen.

We went into the garage and immediately “drawed” some uncle. He knew everyone, everyone greeted him, then me. The case went to the table. Breakfast, vodka and talk. They sat down and talked. I walked through the garage, dealing with my children’s affairs. He broke the nails, twisted some bullets. Broke the grass.

Time to go home. I got instructions from my father – don’t tell my mom! I understood?

I understood what I did not understand. I will not give up my father's father, I decided firmly.

We enter home. I am I, M is my mother.

M: Where were they?

I am in the garage.

M: What did they do?

I : Nothing. I went and looked at the car.

Q: Have you drunk?

I am no.

M: What did you eat?

I am a selenium!

My father and mother laughed a long time. Mom knew why and where he went, and Dad decided to check if I would give him up. No one is a traitor :)

I work in a taxi, and one night I got one interesting passenger. A man under 50 years old in a white shirt and pants. We walk silently for 5 minutes and then he calmly, in full seriousness, asks:

Q. Have you tried humans?

I am not, and you?

P – Yes I tried.

Here I, guessing he or he really has something with his head, decided to play him:

How – and how – is it delicious?

P: You know, it is very delicious. It reminds me of pork.

I heard it taste like chicken.

Q. Who told you that? Give me their names.

I heard it on telecast.

P – A, well...

After a few minutes of silence, he continued.

They went with me to the cemetery.

I – Why?

P – Why Why? Eat the human.

If I taste like pork, I will not go. I love chicken more.

Then we drove quietly. He paid for the trip and went to his house.

I understand, of course, that he is choking (probably), but it was a bit scary anyway.

At the university, there was a subject in the first course called "Science of the Earth". Couples on it went on Saturday morning, so I safely put on it and never appeared in the semester. When the session came, I delayed the visit to the last. In the meantime, a lot of group members went to transfer. When I opened the textbook, I realized that most of the materials on the subject very strongly intersect with the school course of geography (tectonic plates, volcanoes, etc.).Which I loved very much and which was given to me in principle very easily. After reading a couple of chapters, I decided that I would try to bring out on school knowledge. And the day I appeared at the door of the office, a third transfer was given with me by several group members. They sat away from the textbooks and turned around the whistle when they saw me quietly talking on the phone with a friend. At the very start, the prede looked at me inappropriately, apparently in connection with the fact that he saw it for the first time and offered to pull a ticket. I pulled out just the ticket on the subject of which I was doing a lecture in school, respectively deepened into the topic, and minimally prepared asked to go to answer. What was the surprise of the lecturer and all who were in the audience, when I calmly answered the questions of the ticket and a few additional. However, the teacher said he did not remember me at the classes, asked without preparation to try to answer another ticket. That ticket was also known to me from the school program and I began to answer what I could remember. However, after a couple of proposals, the teacher asked for my check-in, so he saw that the material I knew and there was no further reason to question me. This is how I began to hear among one half of the fellow groups lucky, and in the others a briber, although there was no such practice at our university in principle.

It is a strange coincidence, but in all the countries where the proletariat was artificially separated from the people and declared as a separate class-hegemon, the real power was acquired by the parasitic bureaucracy.

A little about effective managers, and "yes behind the fence of such"

I work as an installor. We are building the bridge at the final stage. It is time to start painting. The general contractor contacts with the organization, which is professionally engaged in the painting of bridges and painted all our previous objects, and proclaims the price of 6 million. (I do not know the exact amount). Malaria, categorically disagree to work for such a sum, at least 20 million. The contractor includes the "yes, such behind the fence line" function and finds a contractor ready to paint for 6 million.

A brigade of "painters" arrives at the facility: they are enlisted elementarily by announcement, everyone sees each other for the first time, with the bridges never encountered, and... guess how many among them prof. Malaria... one that they have a type of master and then an automaker.

Well, then everything is predictable: three days they walk around the bridge, not knowing where and how to start. It starts with half grief. Techniques and tools are zero. Everything is rented from us.

Looking at their work, I wanted to laugh... a second, and then you realized that the bridge could not be painted, and the deadlines are not endless, and it was no longer to laugh.

They sanded the metal, immediately washed it, it immediately rusted, they in shock began to sand again. And so once in a while. One day, two... two weeks, they didn’t even start painting.

They worked for less than a month. Work is done zero. Construction control did not take anything. And the time is all on the brink: soon autumn and the bridge is over.

The general contractor connects with the first brigade, agrees for 20 million. They come to the facility and in two weeks made 70 percent.

Everything seemed, conclusions were made, mistakes corrected. by Her.

It is necessary to pull the lighting on the bridge, the general contractor again rows the price, the electricians naturally refuse... and when the general contractor comes to them for the second time, they want not 3, but 5 million.

He says he has a company with 100,000 employees.
Passion to him. The bee holds.

Working Committee was held. The psychiatrist without looking asked questions - "do you have complaints, drugs, alcohol? How do you relieve stress?” I said I was running long distances. The psychiatrist put off the pen, finally looked at me and began to ask, "and how long is it? Isn’t it hard? And what shoes to buy and where is it better to run, or is it boring at the stadium?" It turned out that he recently started running and had a lot of questions about the subject. 5 minutes of conversation. At the exit, in the corridor colleagues looked suspiciously - that so long, not more than a minute was