The mayor of Quebec refuses to remove pork from the menu of school dining rooms and explains why:

“Muslims must understand that they must integrate and learn to live in Quebec. They must understand that it is they who have to change their way of life, not the Canadians who so generously welcomed them.

Muslims should understand that Canadians are neither racists nor xenophobes. Canada hosted many immigrants before Muslims appeared here. Like other peoples, Canadians are not ready to give up their identity or culture.

And if Canada has accepted someone into its land, it is not the mayor who welcomes foreigners, but the Canadian people as a whole. Finally, they should understand that in Canada (Quebec), with its Christian roots, New Year’s trees, churches and religious festivals, religion should remain a personal matter for everyone.

For Muslims who disagree and feel uncomfortable in Canada, there are 57 beautiful Muslim countries in the world, most of which are sparsely populated and ready to welcome them with open arms.

If you left your country for Canada, not for other Muslim countries, it’s because you thought life in Canada was better than in others.

We will not allow you to bring Canada to the level of these 57 countries.

If you came to Canada with the idea that you are going to push us out with your fertile spread and eventually capture our country, you should gather and return to your country where you came from.

If you agree to accept these provisions, then stay. If not, be prepared to leave.”

Baroness and Cossacks

I went to the electric shop for a lamp.
Within the people there were a few, five people in all, but only two of them can be called characters. The first character is a lady (with, not by age, straight back) standing at the box office. Running forward, I admit that I envy her friends and acquaintances, because they have the opportunity and pleasure to communicate with such an extraordinary person. Dressed she was shameless and somewhat old-fashioned: a dark dress to the floor, a silver brochure, a small riddle, a ring cloth in her hand and a hairstyle like the lady from the Chekhov stories. In the theatre hall, no one would pay attention to it, but in the electric goods store, it looked like a wooden rope in Silicon Valley. The age of the lady was difficult to determine, maybe 61, or all 79. The hell knows her. In one thing I now have no doubt that she has a secret family recipe, according to which she makes a tincture and takes it one teaspoon on an empty stomach, every two hundred years.

The second prominent character in the store was a bearded Cossack studying a window with wires. The Cossack was dressed simply and with taste: shoes, a sporting suit, and on his head a carakle hat-cube. On the street was hot under thirty, so the face of the Cossacks from under the hat flowed courageous streams of sweat.
The cashier for some reason for a short time got out of the box and the turn spread throughout the store. There is only a mysterious lady left.
I approached her and asked:

Are you in the box? I will be after you.

She sneered and, pointing to the side of the Cossacks, replied:

- I have to warn you that the gentleman in the winter hat was behind me.

Everyone in the store exploded with a wild whistle, including me.
Kazak was obviously offended, he pulled his chest forward and said strictly:

My grandmother is not your winter hat, I am a Cossacks!

The lady pretended to be surprised and replied:

Who could think? and Kazak. What a sweet coincidence, your nobility, you are a Cossacks and I am a Baroness.
I am a Cossacks without coincidence. I understand!? I can’t see anything on the hat.? to
“Well, don’t get angry, pigeon, on the hat, so on the hat, Cossacks, so Cossacks. But I am older than you in age and rank, so I will allow myself to give you a little life advice: if you suddenly get bored of being a Cossack and you want to be called, say, a pearl hunter, then one swimming cap will not be enough, you will still have to dive for a pearl.

A man in a winter hat spotted the lady with a glance, splintered inside and, without waiting for the cashier, proudly left the store, lying with invisible spurs on his shoes.

The idiots are saving.
The Ministry of Health decides to save money. Because they are foolish, the savings are foolish.
To begin with, they decided that once the doctor is taught twice as much as the nurse, then the doctor will cope with her duties. The nurses were discharged and the doctors were forced to carry out all the documentation alone. As a result, high-quality specialists are busy half the time with what a not-so-high-paid specialist can do.
After that, right as in the children's cartoon about seven caps from one sheep, the fools began to "saving" again. The doctor spends too much time on the reception (moreover, he smells for himself and for the nurse), let’s reduce the reception time. have reduced. Now almost all the time of reception a doctor who has been taught for 6 to 7 years spends on the work of a nurse who is taught twice as much. There is no time to look at the patient. For excessive consultation - punishment, fools are spared. Uzi, Kt, dead only the plate. for free - punishment for the doctor, fools are spared. As a result, the patients who did not receive help should quietly die to the joy of the fools. But the people "why" do not want to die and call an ambulance. And the challenge is a medical brigade, again - a high-paid. The driver, again, is not one of them. come and understand that the patient does not need an ambulance, and no one provides him with a plan. And the emergency is more expensive than the call to the clinic. That is, one challenge would pay for the correct and normal treatment, but the fools will save. Further, the ambulance or leaves the patient at home and he tries to follow the instances further, or, when the consequences of the planned "non-treatment" become... bad, he will be taken to the hospital. There are high-paid specialists, examinations and hospitalizations, where they carry out treatment that they could spend at home for a lot less money. But the fools are saving. And often after the examination they say - you are treated in the clinic and everything goes on in the second, third and so on. and specialists often in the clinic were not bad, but 12 minutes per patient, 10 of which are spent on holy - to fill out medical documentation. This is why fools don’t save money. And the worst thing is that these specialists in a few years will simply not be able to work normally. Here the documentation they fill will learn to the joy of the fools.

In her youth she worked as a translator for a foreign humanitarian organization that identifies cases of “sexual abuse of minors.”
It did not work for long – it was difficult even to translate the reports of our “field agents” who worked with the affected children. A terrible statistic that the vast majority do not even know.

Alkashi rented the children to friends for a bottle. A grandfather for years raped his granddaughter, threatening to kill his mother. Six-year-olds in the crowd are washing over second-class children right behind the school. A man gives a student money to bring the boy out. A seller in the store for a year forces the girl to come to him regularly, threatening that otherwise he will rape her little sister. The mother puts her daughter under her father’s arm so she doesn’t leave.
Often these are well-off children, the environment does not even suspect what is happening to them, specialists have to work long and hard.
To trust them and tell them.
The children do not believe they will be saved. Children know what you will say: I invented it, I provoked it, it is my fault.

Shame on all of you who say so. I see there are many of you here.

If you’re on "you" it’s a sign of respect. The big letter is your language between my buttocks.
^ ^ ^
It is gold. The main would.

At the Safe Internet Forum, commenting on the latest sovereign Internet law, Mizulina cried out that “Prohibition is freedom.”
In my opinion, it’s as if she came to the doctor, complaining about the pain in the heart, and he said to her, “Well, you, blue girl, disease is health!

Today, the three richest Russians have lost $12 billion.
Tomorrow they will find them in the pockets of the rest of the Russians.

The investigator told me. In the night of the 31st on the 1st he was on guard. Someone is starting to break in the shelter. He opens, and in front of him with a almost toothless mouth a swollen bumble with a naked torso. On the street 30. In his hands a dirty and stinking telogreek. “Help my friend.” He launched it, says sadly, it will freeze.Bomj the telogreek carefully on the table, and there is a baby. He found him in the garbage, took off his clothes, wrapped. I walked 2 km. In such cold. We fed and drank that bomb with the whole duty for a long time!

Bondarev Oleg
3 hours ·
The idea of a modern detective novel. I do not know how to name. I choose between the "Barbershop of Death" and "The Knife in the Spinner". Propose other options? The main character is a hipster detective in a board cardigan.

Commentary
Mickhail: Girosprut
Andrei: The Doors of Death
Sigway of Destiny
Yuri: "Engineer at outstaffing" - a very relevant topic
Andrei: "The whip of the dead". "The Body at Timbuilding" "Coworking of Killers" - ready trilogy
Here is the finished epigraph:
- Hi, we are vegans-weepers from the neighboring crossfit center. Want to talk about love for life?
- Mother of God... Bring a shotgun, these creatures have found us!

The Killer Doctors

I fired the doctor. With threshold. For “violation, non-conformity and the other, and the other.” A quiet, calm woman, always seemed to be tolerant and unwavering, but here she collapsed.
Collapse of calls, consistent clinic and acute seizures, consultations.
The challenge - twelve floors, the elevator is not on duty, we walk up to the 11th floor. We get up, resting - the caller stands at the door, shooting us on the phone, and commenting so obsessively "This is how our "ambulance" rushes to call."
We walk in silence without reacting. Madam lives alone, has a bunch of health complaints, without a single clear, basic and favorite "bad, why incomprehensible?“!”
It holds us for more than an hour, demanding consultation on all existing, including exotic, diseases, mandatory scheduling of treatments and recommendations until old age - instead of periodically popping up the names of officials and other cappuccinously familiar FSB sheriffs, who in case of refusal will immediately be called. We leave completely exhausted.

The next challenge is “lost consciousness, does not breathe.” At the other end of the area. We fly, we push through traffic jams. The courtyard of Stalin, the crowd of people, the body of an old lady. The face is blue, the eyes are coloured - the devil knows it, maybe a stroke, maybe - TELA [Tromboembolism of the pulmonary artery], not to say. We have time to get out of the car - the daughter flies to the doctor, spit in her face and clings into her hair. If we pull away, we tolerate the ears of smoking on our heads, we hide in the car from the angry crowd. Long drive, the hell knows where it carries us, more than an hour have waited, creatures heartless, so that you yourself.
Just released from this - repeat to the same address, to the previous aunt, the supervisor on the phone "complains on the quality of assistance".
I go, I get married, the doctor is strangely silent.
Again climbing to the 11th floor, again madam with the phone and already with a girlfriend - in a voice discussing our rush, uncomfortable and unstable.
Question: “The reason for the challenge?” Madam, smiling, "I hit your paper somewhere, where you wrote appointments - write another one." My doctor, a quiet, sweet woman, takes a step forward and with her size. At the entrance, her exhausting scream is heard: “Have you gone, Ssssuka!” Elijah pulled away.
Her acquaintances seemed to have really known her. I was fired by article, without the right to work at the SP at all.
As she left, she smiled, “Yes, fuck them. A job where murderers should be killed, not beaten, is not for me.”
I thought. This lady is a murderer. If she wasn’t with her challenge, we’d be able to get to that grandmother. And to many other grandmothers whose lives have eaten these ladies.
They still live now. And they call. And they take away for the sake of their fast-paced “I” life from those who really need us.
They like to talk about “killer doctors,” it’s fun.

Bring me home! So that again in the morning at nine o’clock I went for a walk, in the evening at eleven came back and nothing you need all day: neither to eat, nor to drink, neither car, nor salary.
Let me find a rod and all you have is happiness: and a sword and a rifle, two shit in one. If you want to be a soldier, you want to be a knight. Well, and if I found some fucking rugged incomprehensible, then it was actually concrete, just ecstasy! Drop the TV, Drop the Internet – you have a rugged shit and all the fucking, you are the king of the world. Walk with her for at least a day, it will not get bored at all! It’s a shit, how can it get bored?! to
Bring me back! The girls are angry again. So that in the lawn in the shoe grounds of the grandfathers and slowly so melt on it, you are looking in the lawn such a place where the water straight to the edge of the shoe grounds, but at the same time does not flood inside. That sweets are hidden from you - not because you look at this raffaella now and get sick as soon as you imagine its taste. That the bicycle had only one star and that the rear brakes worked when the pedals turned back. Let the catapots on the wheels hang, colored wire spikes wrapped and all - now you are, just not real, incredibly cool! And fill your sports fields, just give the field: two backpacks dropped and all the football gates ready, today you are Zinedine Zidane.
And in the winter night, that the street is full of dirt, the blackness is invisible, and you have buried in two blankets, in the room a candle burns... warm... you lie down, looking at the naked branches behind the window... and well.

At the lesson, one student correctly answered all the questions of the teacher, which provoked a classmate to a contemptible comment: "Botanic!"
The teacher made her notice that it would not hinder a more respectful treatment of, possibly, the future employer.
The man added, “It’s unlikely. I don’t plan on becoming a snooker.”

Commentary on the trailer of the game, with a hanging hammer about the Russian special forces

I am the Russian, the son of the special forces, believe there they don't have everything as well as shown in the video, mainly used beards and bulls in the officers of the nobility, there are snails and muskets, and the new ones they see only during a restless sleep in the cascade caves.

When I was 13 years old, in the village where I rested all summer, my grandmother’s cat lay on my bed. I woke up in the morning and saw in my legs a small three-colored piece, more like a mushroom. Usually with the cat offspring, the grandfather had a short conversation, and nothing good for the offspring it did not end. But this time my mom decided to leave the cat and take it to the city. When they started choosing a cat's name, the options were very different - from the exquisite Matilds and Marquises, to the rural Murys and Seebs. But I insisted on my own - the cat will be called the old male name - Kuzma, in the common people - Kuzka. So it went.



I graduated from school, started dating a girl, enrolled in the institute, flew out of it, enrolled in the next, finished it, got to work, broke up with another girl, etc. For 14 years Kuzka was always around, always supported me when I needed it so much – whether it was a craving syndrome or another breakup with the lady of the heart. Legends have been around about her cat’s endurance and willpower – she could sit around the closed door to the toilet for hours, until her eyes started to come out of the orbit, to do her cat’s business.



In the autumn of 2014, she suddenly stopped eating and then drinking. The veterinarian told us that she had not long to live, and the cat is better to sleep, so that she does not suffer from severe pain. Discovered diabetes, like stomach cancer and something else. We returned home and decided to take her to bed the next day. Kuzka no longer stood up, and from every move complained. I took her to my bed, sat next to her and smooked. I felt like she was starting to breathe easier, and the seizures almost stopped. Then we both slept. Maybe it was her fate – to be born and to die next to her best friend.

The more primitive a person is, the easier it seems to him what surrounds him. The fool is always clear, he is always clear. Another opinion? Not the right. Another way of life? Not the normal. Others who are not similar to his hobbies? Irene, not worthy of attention. The fool is not only absolutely confident in the high level of his intelligence and the infallibility of his knowledge, but also rushes to teach others. He probably wants the others to be like him.

Everyone who has at least once been to the construction and economic supermarkets knows: there are a lot of sales consultants. But they are all busy. They go somewhere. So are busy. Very busy. Or they are not responsible for the department in which they are now standing and talking. Therefore, they relatively politely board you, go through the shelf and talk again, and sometimes do not cross.

This happened in one of the shops. We call it “Arsenal”. The former asked to help buy the expenditure before the repair. We walk through the department and see: two consultants specifically drop. The end of the working day, everything was enough, the questions-questions of the “stupid” buyers. They say “I’m not from this department, go to the seller” and disappear. After 20 minutes of fermentation, a boring cashier girl and a guard remained at the exit. And eight couples, a little confused because they were forgotten in the store, were us.

A minute after five we started to communicate, discuss the materials, and another five began to stumble, what and how to wrap-measure-bear. The guard was vigilant at the exit. The cashier was missing.

Then I saw the phone! He stood in the corner, in front of the compound. Well, you know, there are billboards. The button phone. In front of the buttons of the inscriptions: “director”, “guard”, “cash”, “storage”. It was so fun for me. I call the director. What to small.
and yes.
Hi to you!
Hi to you.
"Please tell me, here I need to buy the cable and this fence where it closes. I already got the roses. I found cement. Plinth got it. And the cable I cut off, will the girl on the box trust me, or will it exaggerate? Here another man is looking for a tile. Someone else needs to say something about the mixture, but I don’t know.
Where are you calling?
The Director.
from where?
How from where? From the shopping room. There’s no one here, we’ve been here for half an hour.
- (short guts) by pi-pi-pi
In a few seconds, a man in a costume breaks out. No, he’s jumping at us, looking around. I am pleased with him:
It was I who called you!
It goes spots, bleeds and disappears too. But then then!! to
I didn't know that all the cassiers were sitting on the box and there were 1.5 sellers for each pair.
I hadn’t heard the director speak. Judging by the sounds, he’s drinking them. They appeared as they disappeared, and even more. Red, quiet, polite, understandable and everything at our disposal.

He did, as advised on the Internet, to learn English: went to England, smoked, went to jail. A full year of public retention among carriers.
Now I know perfectly Hindi and Arabic, good Chinese and some African dialect. English with a dictionary.

Just just. There are two men at the entrance, smoking. Nearby, the cleaning officer / palace gastarbayter smashed. The men discuss and discuss the chiefs, the work and the country as a whole - the shit job, the shit life, the shit country! Then they throw the cigarettes on the ground, although the garbage in two steps and go away. Immediately the cleaner picked up the cigarettes behind them and cried out, "This is not a fucking country - you are fucking people." ahh

Mona calls a friend from Israel in Odessa:
Senna, what’s going on there?
Ukraine is a bit at war with Russia.
Are there any losses?
“Yes, there is... Ukraine lost Crimea, a couple of regions, several aircraft and helicopters, tanks, BMP, various weapons there, decent to the people and...
What did the Russians lose?
“Monia, you won’t believe, the Russians haven’t come to war yet.

All religions argue that paying evil for good is not good. God for this A-T-T and all that.
But the divine reward is a slow and painfully selective thing, so often you have to take the matter into your own hands.
There was one businessman, let’s call him Durkyssian. This Durkyssian kept the fuel, coffee and parking at the same time, on a not very busy, but still federal track. He considered himself the smartest. In the sense that instead of being equipped according to the requirements of the legislation, he took the money who needed it, and arranged as it was convenient for him. That is, putting the screw on the prescriptions not only sanitary and environmental, but also fire safety.
And striking on fire safety when you have so much gasoline under the side, it’s crazy. Therefore, when in the hot summer, the grass on the sidelines burned from the smoke, and by the wind it all went to the refuelling, it turned out that from the fire extinguishing tools only a fireplace. In the pants...
Well, the sand, which was touched, but the fire was also touched, because dry and rubbish around nobody killed, of course.
In general, when the firefighters arrived, the gas station was already swollen, the goods were decorated with cheap plastic, which not only delights the eye with bright flowers, but also burns no less beautifully.

- And where are you, dear, the hydrant, or, at the bad end, the fire reservoir? The firefighters asked a stupid question.
No to! I pulled Durkheim’s hands.
And why?
So very expensive! I am a poor man, don't look at what I drive on a BMW, I saved everything I could to build this temple of gasoline and solar.
“This we see,” the firefighters whispered, and went to fill the fire with what they brought with them.

This, however, was not enough, and very much - while they were driving for the supplement, the tanks fell and the question of saving the refueling plant no longer stood. The forest and the village would not burn.

And here, as is known, at the last moment, the Army came to help the firefighters. Not all of course, but a part, in the person of the praporshka Kukushka, nicknamed so for the habit of catching fighters who love to "push on the mass" in shady corners, with a scream: "Ku-ku, fucking!“And the shame.
Kukushka headed the cistern column, and Zampotech, on the occasion of such a fun, personally piloted the Engineering Destruction Machine, abbreviated - IMR. Well, and the "Ural" with armed blades and bagrels fighters.
All this army, perceiving the fire as a fun variety in the midst of the army routine, escaped the forest fire that hadn’t had time to start, turned the lush loaf in front of the village into a boring swamp and settled with interest on the roaring fountain of flames at the site of refuelling.

Durkysyan, running in circles, teared his hair and begged to save at least the cafe and the parking lot.
Zampotech consulted with the firefighters, and, striking the lock on the combat, went to the assault.
The plan was simple - to pour out the flame from the ground was meaningless, and to wait until it would burn itself - long and unsafe. Army tanks, of course, are large, but not bottomless, and for a long time to water the surroundings, in order to avoid fires from the fierce heat, it would not work with all the desire.
So Zampotech, enjoying the fact that the IMR, in essence, is a tank with a coffin, and, as a tank can withstand a lot of things and protect as long as possible, first grabbed the elevated shaft of the earth before the tanks, and then squeezed it on the pillar of fire that hit them.
Firefighters quickly extinguished the rest and departed, leaving Durkysyan to burn on the ashes.

It was burning, but not for long - after some time, the Combat was called from the prosecutor's office and stated that Durkysyan filed a lawsuit with the Ministry of Defense. According to him, Zampotech with his IMR, in the dust of the battle with the fire, crushed a piece of refuelling, in which there was a safe, and in that safe - Asian millions earned by hard work.
The fact that the gasoline could get under delivery, Zampotech did not deny - from it at the time left only a crooked stake, and the visibility was not to the limit, so the Ministry of Defense, scratching the head, wanted to go to the world, and pay Durkysyan compensation, but he, feeling the easy money, stunned, and the amount of damage by jumping increased 100 times (I seriously - no jokes) from the originally stated. Apparently I decided that if the state pays, we should try to take as much as possible.
The military was shaken from such greed, and sent Durkysyan on three letters, and specifically - to the Court, where he was required documents confirming that such a sum could be in that safe, at least theoretically. The man, realizing that he was exaggerated, tried to pretend to be a vetoche and stated that all the documents were destroyed in the fire, but he can provide a photo taken in the same gasoline, where in the background, between him and Uncle Karen, the unfortunate safe is visible, and once the safe was, then there was money.
The judge sent Durkysyan with such evidence on three other letters and closed the case.
And it seemed like it was over, but, as they say, "The sediment remains."

So, why did I start with the reward?

At night, the residents of the apartment house were awakened by a terrible thunderstorm and a warning warning. Unknown offenders broke into the roof, and dropped on the BMW car, belonging to the citizen Durkysyan, a sealed safe, which broke the cap and rolled the engine into the asphalt.
On the side of the safe, a large handwriting read, “Here’s your box, Flint fucking!”
Inside the safe were found documents on the name of Durkysyan and his LLC, as well as banknotes and coins worth about a thousand rubles.

Durkysyan himself claimed that he had seen two people on the scene of the accident, suspiciously similar to the praporshka Kukushka and Zampoteh, hiding on a white "six", suspiciously similar to Zampotech's car.
However, the inspection was established that at this time Kukushka and Zampotech stood in clothes, did not leave the territory of the unit for a minute, were in sight all the time and even closed in the toilet, continued to maintain voice contact, giving instructions through the door. The entire staff of the dresses, as well as the duty in part, are ready to confirm this under oath.
Zampotechov's "six" also did not go outside the gate of the unit: the praporchnik Ahmed...sov swore to the prophet's beard that at about the time when the safe fell, he was sitting and smoking right on it. He even rushed to show a spot on the hood wiped in dust by his pants, and dirt on the pants themselves.

The attackers were not found, but a safe was found. Having dropped the amount of cash in it, with the amount indicated in the claim, the prosecutor’s office scratched in the back of the head and brought an accusation of fraud against Durkysyan.