Urban cats and rural cats are, as they say, two big differences. Now I am surprised to see cat food in rural shops. Twenty years ago, it was a shame to think about it. Cats in the village were needed to catch mice. Behind the cats from the cat-rysolov was always the turn. No one knew exactly how many cats were in the herd in the yard - well they ran and ran. In the morning and evening, after breastfeeding the cows, they poured milk into them - well there and puppies, and eggs fled - the hell you will take them wherever anyone. In the winter, they lived in the barracks and ate with pigs. The population of rats and mice was reduced to a minimum. The main in the herd was the oldest cat - mother, grandmother, aunt, and you don't know who all the other members of the praide. Only sometimes let her into the kitchen, not chased if it passed. The cats, often, fed all together. The cat gave birth in a secluded place and for the second month brought the kittens to show - first their own, then all came together to call the masters - to tell, see what beautiful ones they brought. The cats were wild - they were not given into the hands, and, in general, these cats were not affectionate. No foot massage was done. But the owners admitted and appealed to us for help. Once the older woman ran - she calls somewhere - went to see, and there the young woman can not be born - well, they helped, her mother was a veterinarian. Often came, when they had the vertebrae of the fish on their teeth - asked to remove. We were protected as we could. I once watched two cats kill a snake. They have snakes in every yard, they also have their own territory. We decommissioned the old barrel and a swing of chess jumped out of the half - there are such people living in the south of Russia. This is the only poisonous snake. As a poison, I was bitten once. I caught a fish, hanging my legs in the water, well, it caught me on the heels, and apparently took the heels for the frog. I had a fever for three days and it all passed. Don’t believe those who say that snakes don’t bite in the water, just like they bite. So, this snake didn't have time and went five meters away - there are two older cats and another one. They took positions on different sides of the serpent and began to kill her. At first, the cat, which was behind the snake, struck her with a lightning blow on the head, the snake, turning around, made a stroke in her direction, trying to bite – it jumped one and a half meters up, leaving the attack, and, at this time, the snake was beaten by another cat. So they beat her in turn until she died.
Cats in the second or third year of life, after mating, in the spring left the house, sometimes returned, but more often not. The cats, feeling the approaching death, quietly left somewhere and I never saw bodies. Only the oldest came to say goodbye. He shakes his feet, looks in his eyes and leaves.

Jules Verne described the journey of man to the center of the Earth, Herbert Wells created the man-invisible, Rudolph Raspe sent Baron Munchausen from the cannon to the Moon, but at a fantasy contest with a huge breakdown defeated the deputy head of the GIBDD in the Voronezh region, who explained the possession of 22 apartments with "honest labor".

There was a wave of confidence. Even though I was late, I decided to do my part.

My wedding is approaching and many do not understand why I do not invite my mother. A lot of reasons.

Starting from my 2 years old, my mom began conflicts with my father, she scolded me for any excuse, so that the bleachs were held for a month.



When I was 7 she went to Russia (lived in Ukraine) and I stayed with my father. He did not even raise his hand, but he constantly drank and poured all the money either there or on his mistress. I even remember eating pasta for 3 months and my father brought a huge package of foods and put it on the refrigerator. I poured all the saliva, leaving the wet sludge at this refrigerator. Red package of 2 liters of juice, bananas, some cake. I was eagerly waiting for my father from work to try what was in the package (and why didn’t it work without it?). He came from work. He took the package and took it to his mistress.



My grandmother had two shops at the time, one of which was right next to my school. Sometimes she was allowed to take something for 3 hryvnia. At the time, it was 2 minions. I included the Kung Fu Panda cartoon at home and pretended to eat a cupcake with a secret ingredient. That was where her communication with me ended.



My aunt on my dad’s line forbade me from bringing me to family holidays, saying I was dressed as if I was scary. Well, of the clothes were only worn and large several sizes of things, which sometimes gave a familiar mom.



When my mother took me to Moscow, I lived with my grandmother. From that it was scary even to get sick, otherwise the wings instantly big and long.

I lived by myself. No one cared about how I studied (and I studied well), no one cared about whether I came home or not. What I ate in the day or did not eat. These people were not in need but actively pretended that I did not exist. But now that I was finally able to dress normally, found a job, got a relationship and an apartment (in a mortgage) so everyone became interested, why am I not communicating and not inviting to the wedding? Really why?

I want to tell you about my life in Tajikistan during the 1991-1997 civil war that broke there, which ended with the signing of a ceasefire. The ceasefire, of course, did not mean the immediate end of the war. Combat operations and all kinds of military operations continued until the beginning of the 2000s. During the war about 100,000 were killed. People (mostly men from 14 to 50 years old).



By the beginning of the war, I was 12 years old and I was the eldest child in a family of 5 (parents and two younger sisters). My parents worked and tried every way to find money for food, and I was obliged to buy bread. Now I realize that the task that was assigned to me was too difficult and sometimes dangerous for the child of my age. In the rows for bread, at the time, there were adult men who arranged tricks and pressures that were not as dangerous for them - as for the ugly and small 12-year-old boy. The longest and most dangerous queues were at the BKK (Bulo-Candy Combinate) on the outskirts of the city. Bread was sold there "all day", but in batches: they baked a batch - they started selling from one window. Everything was washed up in 15-30 minutes. Then, again waiting at 2-3 hours - until the next batch. The "order" in the rows was brought by militants-Pamyrs (the outsiders of GBAO - the Mountain-Badakhshan Autonomous Region), who occupied that area of the city for a short period of time. The ranks “controlled” with rubber shells and shots over the heads. By the way, the Pamirs were the first to introduce their armed forces into the capital (in fact, starting the war) and untouched worse than all the other sides combined. Responsibility for most of the murders and robbery of civilians in 1992-1993. It lies on the palm trees. The rest of the Tajiks still don’t like them for that.

Civil War by the Eyes of a Teenager Civil War, Tajikistan, Leningrad, 90s



The artillery in the city did not surprise anyone.



In order not to be distracted by the thought of the extensive period of my life during the war, I will tell you about two instances when I was almost dead.



In 1994 (I was already 13 years old) I and two of my cousins, who were 1 and 2 years older than me, went to Kuibyshevsky district (about 100 km). from the capital) to my grandmother to take some flour and medicine for my grandfather. I was in a bus, filled with women and children. There were six men on the bus (including me and my brothers). We drove 40 kilometers from the city, as we were stopped at the “block-post”, which represented 1 BTR, a couple of cars (cross the road) and a person 10-15 militants (different degrees of smoke).



Two militants entered the bus and asked for documents from three men. They showed passports and took them out of the bus. Then came the turn of me and my brothers. We did not have any documents. We thought of ourselves as children (and we were wrong). We also started to get out of the bus and at that moment there were shots. Three men, quietly and quietly, were shot at the BTR. They were not interrogated, they were not beaten – they were just taken out and shot. We were also put to the BTR, but on the other hand from the bodies.



It should be noted that shortly before this one of my brothers, a rap fan, looking at the clips, decided to shave the patterns on his head. I wanted something like this:

Civil War by the Eyes of a Teenager Civil War, Tajikistan, Leningrad, 90s



True, it was done at home and therefore it turned out to be very curly, dull and terrible, but the brother, for some reason, decided not to clean up this "beauty", but just walked on people in a cap.



We are standing at the BTR, we are already waiting for the shooting, and here the wind from the brother shakes the cap, and the militants saw his hair. They cried very long and loudly. He called his brother a fool and joked. Three minutes later, laughing, they just let us back into the bus and we left. I don’t know whether they wanted us to be shot seriously or “shocked,” but it seems to me that my brother’s stupid hair and the drug intoxication of the militants saved us from shooting. By the way, the block-post was government.





The second case was in 1997, and I was already in 11th grade. I had a classmate, Tola (a painfully thick boy with a curved leg), whose older brother served in the 201th Russian Division. Tolik once pulled a F-1 grenade into the school that his brother gave him (well, or he just sprayed it from his brother). Here is this:

Civil War by the Eyes of a Teenager Civil War, Tajikistan, Leningrad, 90s



And he was amused by pulling out the check, and pressing the trigger, he walked with it, showing us how "hard and fearless" he was. He then returned the check.



The check consists of a ring and a double wire, which is inserted into a special hole in the incinerator and bends in different directions (type "sic"). Accordingly, with each pulling out of the cheque, these "sicks" were bended, and with each squeezing in place, they were bended to the previous position. After the second check was pulled out, we (the classmates) advised Tolik to put a grenade in his ass until we put it there. He calmed down and we went to a history lesson.



All the boys in the class were sitting on the back seats and nothing predicted trouble. Tolik was sitting in a row next to me at a distance of extended arm. He pulled out the grenade again and pulled out the check under the rope and pulled the lever. Smiling, he showed me a ring, and I saw that one of the "sicles" had fallen. Tolik panicked, pushed the check back and tried to bend the second "sack". He also fell. The wire on the check became short, and we were afraid that it would not hold the lever. Tolik carefully handed over the grenade to a classmate, raised his hand and asked the teacher to the toilet - escaped from the classroom. The classmate pulled his hand with a grenade into the pocket of his jacket and also asked to go to the toilet. The teacher said he could go as soon as Tolik returned. But he never returned. The classmate was sitting with a grenade in his pocket for 30 minutes, pressing, tight enough, the lever.



We understood that the grenade might explode, but nobody even tried to go out or tell the teacher. After the call, we ran into the labor office with the crowd, found a hard wire and pushed it to the place of the check. They left the school, entered the entrance of an empty dormitory, and the classmate stretched his hand. The grenade did not explode, but those few seconds, while my classmate slowly pushed his fingers, were the longest in my life. We twisted the fire from the grenade, and materialed Tolick for a long time. He was saved by his illness.

Good people don’t think about integrity.

Boomerang of Mobius.

The School. and passing. A residential house nearby. One guy is not very successful parking, preventing the departure. Another man on his nerves cuts him two wheels. Not immediately. First one. And then angry, the second. In 20 minutes.
Time is going. There is no owner. The group of outsiders is growing. They have passions too. In their field of sight comes the GIBDD car. The owner of the car (crossed) an officer presses his shoulders, and explains that since this is not a street, and the parking rules are not violated, and here is the courtyard area. Here he adds metal in the voice: "And if someone has a different opinion, then now we will all gather documents, and check the presence in the car of everything, including the sprinkled. And stories about morning kefir will not save anyone.” The questions disappeared by themselves.
After a while, a taxi comes to the lady, as the wife of the first guy finds out. Which looks at this "above", and a bunch of cars that have climbed behind the car.
It turns out that the husband took the children to school, and she had to take them and the car. But now she will only take the children.
He is asked to change the wheel. She presses her shoulders under the dressing coat – you want to change, but the wheels are two. The people propose to call an evacuator and move the car deep into the yard. The courtyard explains to them what they had guessed. The court is not for that. This is not an unnecessary car store. A woman is offended – because the car is expensive and beautiful, and not unnecessary at all. But it is time to feed the children who are not guilty of anything. She is leaving.
Someone spit and calls a cell phone.
The Dinner. Someone brought a thermos and sandwiches.
The young broken "shin montage" whispered and looked at the side cut, and respectfully asked, "What was cut?". Everyone looks and sees that the cut is not only side, but also along. The assembler presses his shoulders, pulls the specialty, and abandoning the money for the "false challenge" leaves.
It dimmed.
The mood of the crowd is burning. Everyone looks at the guy’s shirt. Well, because it will soon be the next morning...
A woman returns in the form of a locker. He is explained. He is Kiwa. He writes. The price of papers on the torpedo is rising, as is the alleged term for hooliganism, and deliberate damage.
The crowd sends the racer to the nearest popcorn store for alcohol and popcorn.
The dress comes. First the river. Then, after consulting with the district officer, he clarifies with the "violator" whether he will take on a couple of hangers. The guy loudly and clearly matches, adding to himself another article for violating public order. The boss looks at the clock:
- Another five minutes and add for violation of the night's rest.
The guy understands that a little more and he will go for the organization of the assassination of Kenya, and offers at his own expense - to buy and change the wheels.
The night.
A taxi enters the courtyard, from which the man "Nummer van", the owner of the car, comes out. Watching what happens. In the dress. In the nearby field kitchen feeding the spectators. For my wife:
CHO has happened? Did you ride a taxi behind me, with a ten-minute difference?
- I jumped for a moment... and then I thought, well, I will go after class.
A man without a grip beats her in the ear.
The district kicks, gets a new sheet and writes “Battle and domestic violence.”

On the day of the vote, people’s gatherings will be organized, and the Constitution will be burned on the main square of each city.

The problem of all post-USSR countries is in following traditions: the ideology governs the economy, and the ideology is ruled by idiots.

Letter from the Army:

Dear Mom and Dad!! to
I am fine, I hope you too. Tell my brothers that serving in the Marines under contract is much more interesting than we do in the village. Let them serve.
It’s not four in the morning, but six in the morning. It was hard at first, but I almost like to get up so late. Tell Sasha and Kolka that before breakfast you just need to fill the bed and put it in order - you don't have to feed cattle, cut wood, burn the stove, carry water, cook food. There is hot water here.
For breakfast they give a lot of delicious - juice, flour, butter, butter - but there is no normal food - flour with oil and real milk, so I don't always eat. But you can always sit between two city guys who only drink coffee. Their portions and mine are enough until lunch. The towns are so weak.
There are also “marches.” The officer said it was for training. If he thinks so, I do not mind. "March-throw" is about like we go from home to store, but those throws are once a week, not so you mom sent me to the store every day. After that, the city guys fall with wiped legs and take us back in a truck. The area is not bad, but too flat.
A sergeant is like a teacher in school, sometimes cries. Captain is the director of the school. Major and colonels, as the chairman of the council, binge, and in their free time are mostly busy with their affairs and do not touch us.
Sacha and Kolka will die of laughter, but I’m the best shooter here. I don’t know why – targets are almost the size of a wolf, but they don’t run and don’t have to shoot. All you have to do is lie on the coat more comfortably and shoot! You do not even need to fill the ammunition with powder and crush - they are brought ready. Every month they give money, called a contract salary. A month is given, as in the village in 4 months. And there is also a store and spices in it are fresh and they do not need to be soaked and the sausage turns out to be pink instead of green.
Let Sasha and Kolka hurry up until no one knows what the hole is here!
P.S I send you 5000 rubles. to repair the sarai and toothpaste.
Her daughter Galina.

Coronavirus, as scientists have found, causes death mostly in people over the age of 65. Not a virus, but just a dream of the Pension Fund!

I have a friend – a taxi driver, periodically complaining that customers run away without paying.

We were on a trolleybus today, our stop, I go to the front door (we have payment at exit, the driver), and my friend quietly goes out through the middle door, without paying.

I asked him why he did so, and he answered me, "Save - consider earned." Gothenburg morality is damn damn.

I live in Peru (South America, who does not know).

Apartment on the 4th floor of a private. On the 1st floor live the owners, on the 2nd - their adult children (but rarely, not always), on the 3rd floor, below us - a family of locals, Peruvians, they have two children. The boy is older, 7 years old, and the girl is quite small, 3-4 years old.

In general, sometimes, the girl has a desire to cry, even just raise. It happens on Sunday morning or evening, anyway. Well, if it starts, it voices loudly, long and long enough – an hour or two can be.It is heard very well, penetrating, even when the windows are closed (and we have a window out into the "common" well. When the windows are open (and given the climate, they have to be opened), the hearing is generally nearby, like above the ear.

I then understand that a child just grows up and faces a terrible reality: all people are mortal, they are sick, they are not always good, they are boring, and other problems of human existence. I really understand her and may even be wrapped up with her sometimes.

I am generally neutral to screaming, fighting, crying children from other apartments - I can even fall asleep under this accompaniment.

Interestingly, my wife is upset by this wild. She can’t even stand for two minutes. He is angry, angry, and nervous. Even threatening actions (well, nonsense, in fact) like going, complaining to the masters.

For the journey, it is unclear that the parents of the child do not take any action to reassure the daughter (it would be heard), maybe they put her in the corner (horror, such a small one), or maybe they go somewhere out of the apartment.

But, it is true, especially the epic and most annoying wrath occurs in the morning, at 5-6.

I just wake up from him pleased - here, the child just woke up and felt the horror of this life, well just like me! The world is terrible, the world is unfair.

Here is. But I, purely out of sympathy for the child, found a way to improve her mood.

I open the window that leads to the well and turn on sacred music. I make the sound louder than enough for me personally. This is a friendship broadcast.

The most unforgettable compositions are:

Songs of the group "Commissar": "You'll Go", "Adrenaline" and "The Snow Queen", and in general, all of their hits. The song of the Ukrainian band "Fantom-2" - "I will reach".

I listen – and after a second of sounding – the child is silent. After a little pumping with soul music (even 2-3 songs are enough), the girl doesn’t whine at all for a long time, until a week somewhere.

If the official does not have enough money to open his own business, he will close someone else’s.

One day, my wife and two children went to a store. The younger was 5 years old and the older was 8. The younger son was constantly asking for candy, and I said that if he doesn’t stop, I’ll go back to the past and take the candy I gave him yesterday. But then the elder said I couldn’t do that. For a while I was in panic, but then I knew what to do. I closed my eyes, kept silent, and then asked:
Remember the chocolate you ate yesterday?
What is? I didn’t eat a baton yesterday.
That’s it, son, that’s it!

Elections and elections!
The cable went into p#dora!

One day, my wife and two children went to a store. The younger was 5 years old and the older was 8. The younger son was constantly asking for candy, and I said that if he doesn’t stop, I’ll go back to the past and take the candy I gave him yesterday. But then the elder said I couldn’t do that. For a while I was in panic, but then I knew what to do. I closed my eyes, kept silent, and then asked:

Remember the chocolate you ate yesterday?

What is? I didn’t eat a baton yesterday.

That’s it, son, that’s it!

Any ingenuity will quickly sink to the iron head of a fool.

My sister here believed in karma:

Ekaterinburg, somewhere in the area of Moscow get into a good traffic jams on the resuscitation car. Inside the guy is about to go to the light that the doctor that the driver has already switched completely to the mat, the cars are like missing, but the time is still wasted. One car is left in front of the lighthouse, and does not miss (the camera, if anything, there was not yet), the doctor (my sister) runs to the car, trying to explain the situation, which gets a mountain of humming up, such as doctors in the bowl decided to go with flashes, but a man understands that it is, and will not let you break the rules. The boy was transported to the hospital alive and seemed to be drowned.

After a few months they are given a direction, and they are well so late, in the apartment already a corpse, and a bunch of screams that we will go to the prosecutor's office, and you a capeç and other things... The loudest of all is the man, the sister looks at him and realizes that this is the man who did not miss their car. I approached him and just stood looking at him, after a few minutes he seemed to remember her, because he silenced everyone at home, and went out to conduct the brigade. There were no statements.

A brief description of the Yukos case:
The Komsomolists pressed off oil from the people.
The Chechens pressed off oil from the Komsomol.
Now the people, for their oil, must pay 50 billion dollars to the Komsomol.
The result: the Komsomolers have 50 billion, the Chekists have oil, and the people have no money.
This is a multiplayer!

The employee flew to India for two weeks. The aircraft.

They ate what they ate at the airport dining room.

He says:

"If I used to treat curry exactly, then now my smell turns away from it.

What is? A lot of scratches?

And not only. There, even in the toilets, curry smells more than shit. For me, this is an indistinguishable smell.

The Pyramid