I think there are actually only two directions.
Book and album.

Once I went to visit my classmate, with whom we were friends. The bell ringed, and her father opened the door. He said, “O myth, come in! »

I went in.

Go to the kitchen and sit down.

has passed. the village.

The parent opened the refrigerator, got a frame with honey from there, cut off the sweetening amber piece the size of a brick, put it in a dish, put everything on the table in front of me, put a teaspoon next to me.

Eat it!

He left the kitchen.

If they offer me honey, I will never refuse. I took a cup and started eating. Still acquainted in the shower, or in the toilet, or where did she get there? I wait and eat. Eat and wait. I ate it all.

The door to the kitchen opened and the parent came in again.

– Oh! Eat it all? ! to The young man! Do you want tea?

The Tea? No is! I do not want! Where is Nadia?

and A! by Nadia! No to No! She went to Kiev for two days.

and oh! I blinked my eyes, so I’ll go. ! to

Go to!

The end of history.

xxx: So the code in German, there first compiler ohuel and its ohuevshest shows users. and #128513;



YYYY :

by Do

by class

Do class if



and ZZZ:

Do class if else

Do class if else

Do class if else and for i in range

When you see a bright poster where they boast of some building, etc. The word “United Russia” should be replaced by “on your taxes”. But on the ruins, slums and destroyed factories, it would be necessary to write "made "United Russia".

Manipulation

I went down in the elevator with my neighbor Victor. Victor drinks and smokes, an ordinary man, he works as a taxi driver.
And here, while we were driving, he decided that since I was a television director, I just had to get to know the television:

- Listen, can you come with me for half an hour, can you help pick a new telephone? My mother is in the village, so badly. 15 years worked. Even cinematic, really good was the telecast, dear. Well, although the mother is seventy-six years old, she lives alone, it is understandable that she looks at the telephone twenty hours a day. What else does she do? Any telephone will die. And now there is no television and her mother began to remember where she was hurt. Every day he calls and complains. Could you help choose?

I had time, so in twenty minutes we had already wandered among hundreds of televisions, kicking away from the annoying men with badges.

In the final two more or less suitable options came out, Victor reasoned and pretended:

- This is for twelve nothing to himself, but the firm is somewhat unknown, but this one is bigger and a bit better, but he is already seventeen, five, shit, more expensive. What will we decide?

I approached a huge TV, almost as big as a garage gate, and asked:

-Vitok, what do you think, would such a telephone on your mother's wall fit?
And why not? I would have moved, but let’s not distract, we have come for the matter. So what do we take? Twelve or Seventeen?
Imagine if you brought my mom such a huge telephone.
“Yes, it would be cool, he’s probably bigger than the movie screen at our club. But what to think about it? You see, he’s worth fifty one, his mother a piece! In any case, for twelve much cooler and a little more than she had, so she should be happy. and?

And then I imagined Victor’s mother, whom I’d never seen and hardly see and remembered my mom. And I really wanted to surprise and paint the life of an unfamiliar old lady with a broken TV, but here it was necessary to have a sharp and almost uncovered manipulation by Victor. It needed a phrase, a short slogan, a formula. I invented it and it worked great. Victor hanged for a while, wiped his moist eyes with his fist, and resolutely exhaled:

This is a repair on the balcony! He will not escape from me for a hundred years. I will not get into the car, I will put anything on the roof.

And he went to pay the television for fifty one, his mother, a thousand.

A month later, Victor met me on the street and said joyfully:

"Mom still just in shock from the TV, he looks even bigger in the room than in the store, almost all the carpet on the wall closed. I made her the internet and she watched videos on YouTube all day long, especially loves to walk around the cities. At four o'clock she walks in Paris, Venice, Moscow, but the funniest thing is that when she sees something beautiful there, a monument, or a park with flowers, she takes pictures on the phone and sends me pictures. I can wash them.
So thank you for forcing me to buy this phone, it was expensive, but it was worth it. I am your debtor.
– No, Vitya, I didn’t force you or even persuade you, you decided yourself.
“Well, you told me that you said, take the healthiest for fifty-one, don’t cheat for your mother, money is a business and everything is in that spirit.
I didn’t say that, especially about money. I literally remember what I said to you then, I said, “Put your hand on your heart and honestly answer, not to me, but to yourself, as you think your seventy-six-year-old mother, how many more TVs will be in your life...?”

The Pension Fund demanded that the “wish for long years of life” be recognized as extremism.

xxx: I gave three times to the blood group, in the child card is written 2-, gave blood for donation 4-, when the wife pregnant was given was 2+



YYY: I had to give up.

This spring, my daughter went to an infectious hospital with a high fever. In the room for 6 people were gathered patients with the same symptoms. The age of the patients was the most varied, from 70 to 13. Among them was a girl clearly not Slavic appearance. My daughter is sociable, so I immediately met her. Her name was Rose, she is 17 years old and has two children. From the last fact, my child was very surprised. I told her that Rose was most likely a Gypsies, and they were used to get married early. She advised me to keep an eye on my things. But since tolerance to different cultures was instilled in school, I was naturally not listened to. The daughter said that all people are equal, and you should not think bad about a person in advance.

Rosa was a very sociable and responsive person. She told me what a good husband she has, that he works in the collage and earns a lot. The children are now with him, and her parents are not. Only often after her husband’s calls, she went crying to the toilet. Everyone in the room looked up. It turned out that the girl was not literate at all. She could only count. And with difficulty. She did not go to school, at all.

My child asked Rose to teach her to read and write.

Every day, she taught Rose literature for several hours. The girl swallowed everything like a sponge. Grandmothers lying in the chamber only wondered how fast the schooling was going.

Everyone in the room slowly recovered and went out. The Gypsies too. By graduation, she was able to read and write in print letters at the level of first grade. I thanked my daughter very much and wished her a lot of good. She promised to give her children to school when they grow up. Nothing is missing in the room.

A few days later, my daughter was released.

A week ago we met Rose at the bazar, with the children. Two girls, one baby. She stood with a sign on which it was written in uneven letters: "Padaite on papers." The daughter shouted and shrugged her hand, but Rose did not react. Maybe I did not know. The daughter said, “Look, Mom, she wrote it herself. Even with mistakes. I have not forgotten.”

We did not get closer.

If a fool solves a problem, there are already two problems.

I work on a motorcycle evacuator, transport motorcycles in St. Petersburg and Russia. The technique is different, the road is often not close, sometimes the owners of motos tell interesting stories. That time we took a heavy pre-war German motorcycle BMW R35 to the exhibition in Peter and this is what its owner told us.

Such motorcycles were in the armament of the regular units of the Wehrmacht, and I inherited them from my father, who received them from my grandfather, who partised in the forests of Belarus during the war.

When I was a boy, my grandfather told me that the partisans struck a motorcycle from the fascists during an attack on a railway station. The German officer failed to escape, and the partisans got a motorcycle with a wheelchair loaded with staff documents.

Grandfather turned out to be the only person in the squad, able not only to ride, but also to repair German equipment, so the motorcycle was attached to him, like a trophy horse.

The partisans, dressed in German uniform, often conducted raids on the captured territories, but especially distinguished grandfather with the Yakut elephant Nicholas - a squad sniper. Grandfather sat at the wheel of a motorcycle, Nicholas in a wheelchair and they were going to "hunt the deer", so they called the "language" hunt.

Having found on the territory of the occupied village a German or a policeman who had gone away from the herd, the partisans came closer, supposedly to find the road, and Nicholas threw on him an arcana made of deer skin, which the Yakuts masterfully owned since childhood. The grandfather gave on the gases, stifling the victim's scream with a motorcycle, and in a convenient place, the prisoner was overloaded into a wheelchair and taken to the squad.

After the liberation of Belarus, his grandfather with his motorcycle was enrolled in the gun regiment, with which he came to Germany, where at the end of the war, by order of the command, he was awarded the same motorcycle with which he came to Germany. He also returned home, but the wheelchair had to be left because of the difficulties with transportation.

Such a heroic apparatus we carried from Minsk, and if his photos are interesting, then by reference.

http://motohelpspb.ru/novosti/baykerskie-istorii/nemetskiy-mototsikl-bmw-r-35

Where do you store your savings?
In the rubles.
This is a great place, no one is going to find them there.

"Burning tours to Turkey" is finally the most honest advertisement!

Just the story happened, I went to fill the tank, I approached the column, I inserted a gun, and at this time Kia came from behind, out of it comes a quick look of a lady and holding a phone in his hand, actively telling someone (presumably a girlfriend) about a guy, namely - what kind of guy he is and why he is not worthy of her in general, for the sake of persuasiveness, the speech is full of selective mat. In general, it turns out that in the gas station building she goes in front of me and, as the line moves, I realize that she does not plan to skip me forward, I tried to smoothly stand in front of her, but she specifically approaches the one ahead, while the lady continues to communicate with her girlfriend, loudly, so that everyone around her hears about her personal life. Here is her turn, she tells her friend to wait on the phone, pulls the card to the cashier with the words:
95th on a thousand, on the first column.
I intervene here with the words:
Girl, I stand in front of you.
What I get:
Where are you, fucking standing? I came first.
On the phone of a friend:
Here, there is someone without a row.
Well, I think, okay, fuck you, goldfish, you have to pay for stupidity, I turn, I go out, I wait for the end of the gasoline and leave at sunset.

P.S Commentary from the operator of the ACS: There are many such cases. And others too. The feeling that people turn off their heads as soon as they come to refuel. Some of them initially have a whirlwind between their ears.

To those who constantly remind us of the phrase "the people who do not want to feed their army will feed the army of others", I have a question: Why did you take that the army of officials and police officers is our own?

The law is one for all, another for some.

Beginning of two thousand. Grandma comes home from the store. Winter and evening. A woman in a nork hat comes to meet her. Suddenly, a 20-year-old man approaches a woman and breaks off her hat. He started running to the side of his grandmother, and that was his big mistake. The grandmother met an ugly stroke of a cat, full of canned food, on the head. They took off the hat, the men ran, turned the robber, called the police. Grandma was 73 years old, retired major, veteran of the Ministry of Internal Affairs.

Everything that doesn’t kill us...mutes and will try to kill us again.

To distort history, you must at least know it.

The Twin Age has arrived. An era, an era, a monstrous, powerful generation of twins and ignorants. No, they were before, but a few years ago they didn’t get so much in the eye. I was ashamed of his illiteracy. Now that feeling is everywhere.
They are popular. The illiterate stars. Language leaders of opinion. Unable to bind two words to the legislators of fashion.
All of these people who can’t understand the difference between “sitting” and “sitting”. Those who say “I think what.” They say “coordinate” together “cardinal” – apparently, and Richelieu in their version was “coordinate”. Those who say “I showed myself” or “I was disappointed.” They can’t forget the nightmare word “in general.” And others, many others.
They are no longer ashamed of anything.
Bloggers are illiterate. Bloggers generally succeeded in the short time of their existence to make all possible mistakes and cover themselves with any known shame, so that the word "blogger" in our society bears a disregarding-unserious shade. Against the backdrop of ponts, self-loving, theft, screws of subscribers, frank rudeness, stupidity and bitterness, some kind of illiteracy no longer looks like a defect.
But illiteracy has already penetrated the holy of the saints – in the media. The place that lasted the longest. Where there should be at least some editorial, at least some second look. No is. The editors themselves don’t know what. And fashion magazines, no – solid political publications seriously discuss the issue of the “receiver of the President”, although the word “receiver” is, rather, something from radio science, unlike the word “successor”, which is written and read in a different way.
Everyone cares about literacy. to all. No refreshment, no fresh look. The poster with Nurtas Adambay’s film claims to be “Nurtas Adambay’s film” — although the surname “Adambay” is perfectly inclined, just as well as Hemingway. But only in one case - when it comes to the male character. If it was a film of some Nurhul Adambay, then it’t have been. They don’t understand the difference, they don’t understand.
Illiteracy is everywhere and in everything. Study everywhere. These ignorants are leaders of opinion. Bloggers are popular bloggers. Non-teachers give interviews and teach others to live. People who have not learned themselves are teaching others. Time is over, god.
And here I know exactly what the reason is. These people didn’t read when they were children, and they don’t read now. And I know exactly what to do about it. I know how illiteracy is treated. If it were my will, I would have gathered all these fashion magazine editors in one place. All these bloggers. These illiterate journalists.
All these writing people, who can not be allowed to the gunshot to the text. All these young and bold. I would gather it and make it read. Not reading magazines. Not the blogs. Not fashion writers, not some foolish Coelho, not some popular Harari, who under the guise of revelation publishes a nightmare scientific nonsense.
No is.
Czechoslovakia would be read by me. Chekhov by Anton Pavlovich. Per then they would have learned that this is the nightmare construction of the phrase "crossing the restaurant threshold, there is a feeling that you are at home" (the real phrase, from the Kazakh fashion magazine) - so here, this construction of the phrase is called "anakoluf", and it was the first that Chekhov ruthlessly spotted. And that feeling crosses the restaurant’s threshold, not you, the duo.
of Chechov. by Tolstoy. Shakespeare in the translation of Pasternak and Pasternak himself. and Caverine. by Dombrovsky. by Bunina. Here is who.
I would have forbidden them from entering the internet in principle. Until they can properly apply “seat” and “seat”. Ten times out of ten. Some probably’t ever be able to do that – but for such people, getting out of the internet is only a benefit.
Yes, I would do exactly that. It is a pity that this is hardly possible.
Erzhan Yeshimkhanov

It is surprising how quickly the willful, honest, open face on the election posters of the candidate changes to the sleepy, indifferent, lulling face of the current deputy.