A little more and distinguish Camedi Club from the Curved Mirror will be possible only by the logo of the channel.

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Grandma’s sister went to the city by bus. She is small in height and round like a ball. She did her business and stopped. In the pocket were the last 2 hryvnia for the trip. Elijah got into the guard. It is time to pay. One in the pocket is empty, the other is empty. No, he thought he was right. With the hand there is no money. He thinks, “Well, everyone, you’ll have to walk for an hour to the village...” Next to the man:
What are you looking for?
I lost the money...
and he:
Look in your pocket!

1st Russia repairs more than $20 billion in debt to African countries
2nd In order to restore the indexation of pensions for working pensioners in 2020 we will need 368 billion rubles. This is a big money, and we don’t have such money now,” said the head of the Pension Fund.

Per I missed something between these news?

The first sign of large fraud is small fonts in documents.

In Nizhny Novgorod there is a museum of art of the USSR. I had such a dialogue.
This is a private museum of our low-city businessman. He collected paintings in Soviet times.
In Soviet times he was not a businessman.
Well close to. He was the manager of the food trustees.

Some recent surveys:
Do you trust the police and the courts?
No is
Your attitude towards the death penalty?
- for

I live in Zimbabwe. I had to visit one of the local reserves a day ago. In it lives a 50-year-old elephant named Elephant (in the language of the Shaun), apparently not to be confused. She doesn’t want to justify her spoken name. Her parents died when she was a little girl and she was the only elephant in the reserve. She lived with a herd of buffaloes. For more than 40 years, she has played with these cows, mastered the buffalo habits and sounds, and even became the matriarch of this herd. For this, according to staff estimates, she had to drown 14 bulls to death, who recklessly tried to challenge her leadership in the group. Now he is running quietly, there are no more wanting people. She has no complaints to people. It is said that one bull she fell when he severely injured the approached worker of the reserve and thought it was to bite him finally, thereby saving the miserable life. Maybe it is for tourists.



Over time, other elephants appeared in the park, but the elephant does not want to communicate with them, does not understand the elephant, pulls it to his native buffaloes. Officers say she considers herself a buffalo. Here is such a curious example of unusual self-identification from the animal world for 40 years before it became the mainstream in humans.

I go out for lunch from work, fit the typical (outside) Gypsies - golden teeth, curly, costume with glitters. Get out before this from a nearby car - an old merce, polished to shine.

Sorry to bother, are you local?

I : Yes.

He: I am from Ukraine, from Donbass. Buy a set, I will give it cheaply, for a thousand all.

I: No, thank you

I go.

In the evening I sit in the car at the parking lot, too, not far from work.

He is suitable.

Sorry to bother, are you local?

I: No, I am from Ukraine, from Donbass.



I haven’t seen such a look for a long time 😉

I went to the barber a day ago and when the girl started cutting my neck, she suddenly wept and said, "How much hair you have on your neck."

I got a little uncomfortable, because the hairy neck, well...it’s strenuous. I decided to turn her attention to something else and said, “You haven’t seen my ass yet.”

The girl walked away and looked at me seriously. Probably the joke did not fit her or caused some disgust. Seconds later, she said again:

Did you take the money with you? I’m not going to cut my ass for five hundred.

I live in Germany. I was taken with my colleagues yesterday for work to a large (more than 30,000 seats) football stadium in a neighboring town, and the head of the local IT department arranged for us a tour of the territory. It was quite interesting; I had no idea how technically complex a modern stadium was. In the process, we were shown a room locked in three locks with a fax machine – and told a surreal story.



The stadium in matches must comply with the general rules established by the sports administration. According to its requirements, immediately before the match, the representatives of the competing teams must sign a protocol that all the players are in place, the teams are ready for the game, there are no problems and so on. The protocol, according to the same requirements, is sent to the administration exclusively by fax. If the fax is not sent for any reason, the match cannot start. You have full tribunes of fans. Therefore, on the stadium, equipped with state-of-the-art technology, where wireless communication and IP-telephony are everywhere, there is an ancient fax requested from an independent power source, and a direct copper pair from the telephone station is laid to it. At the other end of the building is another one, for the case.



On my question “why not scan the protocol and download the e-mail” I was explained that the sports administration is extremely conservative and does not like to change the rules established in the past century.

After the four-day week, it remains only to offer a three-week month.

I served in the Sunny Mikop. Under my command served soldiers and sergeants from all corners of our vast homeland, including many soldiers from the mountain republics. When they arrived in part, they were distinguished by excessive deafness and stubbornness. There were attempts and money from the rest to squeeze and try to send young flyers.

Naturally, they were periodically sent to the dispute in Gukovo of the Rostov region, but all this did not take effect, until then they began to send a letter to their mountainous homeland about each of their cattle, with the following content:

Dear head of the settlement, in our part serves the son of your village/aula and he behaves in a worthless way: he defiles, does not listen to the elders of the rank and violates the rules of military statutes, etc.

It is worth telling that after such letters, a delegation from this hall came to us in part, called a fighter to the CPC and there he was pissed with sticks all, starting with the oldest family member, including the head of the settlement.

After several occasions, the mountaineers walked quietly and calmly. Many at the same time turned out to be sergeants and castle squadrons, and their branches and squadrons were among the best in the brigade in terms of performance.

Our preacher in the universe once said:
Do you know what it looks like? You come to the store for a shirt, give 200 thousand, and eventually leave the shirt and only take a check. The same goes for your education.

The words of relatives.

One day, they missed a vase. After a long search, the parents came to the conclusion that her little son was somewhere.

He went to his son and asked if he had done anything with the vase. The son denied everything. Then I decided to go to the trick.

"Sasha, if you admit what you did with the vase, I will give you 3 rubles," said the mother (the case was in the USSR, and 3 rubles at the time, as far as I understand, was a considerable amount for the child).

“I broke the vase,” Sasha confessed.

Where are you doing the pieces?

"I took the sink and the wreath, gathered them and threw them out so that you and Daddy would not know.

The mother praised the son for the honest confession and handed the promised 3 rubles.

A few days later, a neighbor brought the vase. She borrowed it for something, and her mother simply forgot about it.

XX: I just had a traumatic experience in my youth. While my peers were touching classmates and experimenting with grass, I was touching Ubuntu and Suse and experimenting with the console.

YYY: Maybe they were right. Experiment with the console can now, but to touch classmates now, of course, it is possible, somehow not that...

The crumbling to power bead first crumbles those who sincerely think of them as bead.

Shooting, shooting and shooting.

When I come to my hometown, I always go to the cemetery. After cleaning the graves of relatives, I must stop at one of the tombs. Where he was buried, as he was called. Gowsa Vicenty Yakovlevich.

On the monument - a photo of the grandfather with "Budenovsky" moustaches. Photo of a legend.

In 1942, at the age of nineteen, he joined the partisan squad. After the liberation of Belarus, he was summoned to the RKKA, the war ended in Berlin in the rank of sergeant, commander of 57-mm guns. Two times wounded.

As part of the unit, he received four thanks from the Supreme Commander-in-Chief (for Warsaw, the liberation of Poland, Oder and Berlin) and Zhukov for the assault on the Reichstag. Participant of the Victory Parade.

In the village he was respected, and we, Patsanva, at every convenient occasion, were full of questions:

Tell me, what did you do in the war?

I shot, my grandchildren, and I shot.

And by whom?

By the Germans, their mother, by the Germans.

Shoot the tanks?

And after them, their mother, and after them.

Hurt a lot?

I didn’t think, their mother didn’t think.

At this conversation, as a rule, ended, and the old man quietly went to the house. My daughter said she was crying.

The fact that one of his awards was for the heavily wounded battery commander brought out of the battlefield, I learned much later, when Vicenty Yakovlevich was no longer alive. At the same time, his daughter showed thanks to Stalin and Zhukov, two orders of Glory, two orders of the Patriotic War, the order of the Red Star, medals for Warsaw, Berlin, squirts for wounds.

Grandfather Vinak never wore awards, like all the veterans in our village.

They never talked about war, did not cheer about feats, and did not consider themselves heroes. And only once a year, on May 9, the elderly gathered in the park. Without medals and orders, without celebrations and pathos. They sat in the bars and drank silently.

For those who “shoot, grandchildren, shoot.”
Author: Andrey Avdey

Once upon a time, an old Jew was riding a donkey past a Tatar village. A little boy is playing along the road. He approached him and said:
Boy, can you help me? I have a ruble. I need to eat, feed the donkeys, and leave the rest of the way.
The boy took the ruble and went to the village. He bought there for 10 copies of watermelon, brought it to the old man and was about to leave. The old man says:
I asked you to help, what did you do?
The boy replied:
- You eat peanuts yourself, give the crusts to the donkey, and you will bite the seeds along the way.
Since then, Jews have not lived in Tatarstan.

One day I was invited to my birthday. I came in a new pink cocktail and, in the process of the feast, threw a cup over myself. Well, I washed it in the bathroom and let it dry (the mistress gave me a T-shirt).

In the evening, I think, well all, the stove dried up, went to the bathroom to dress.

I wear a coat, and it is small for me. It is so small that I look like a branch in a net.

I probably stood in front of the mirror for half an hour trying to understand how the cowboy sat.

And it turned out that the hostess had exactly the same coffe, only three sizes smaller and they decided to play me =_=

In a distant youth, my friend and I returned to a part of a short-term vacation, chronic insufficiency, early hours. In the last race, I swallow so that I get a twist of my jaw and the rest of the way to a portion of food with my mouth open and full of horror eyes. Felder fixed it in part. And my friend gets a beautiful, very fun feast story. A few years ago, my friend and I went on a business trip. We lived in one hotel room. One morning I got up earlier, went to the pot, and sneezed there so that I incomprehensibly broke my rib. The wild rust, the hospital and the feast story get a fun continuation. But this summer I got my friend. I went to another city for a relative’s wedding. Having drunk a lot of alcohol and trying to win a goat head-shaped lighter in a folk dance contest, I break my leg in two places! From the hospital, I call a friend, tell how it was, I hear the sound of the phone falling on the floor and hysterics. The curtain.