daddy karlo 2000 april |
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| PROVOCATION.
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-How many angels can fit on the point of a needle?
-This is an easy question. Measure the angels' asses. Measure
needle point. Divide A by B.
RAH, Friday
WHY DO WE LIKE THE FATHERLAND?
-Mam!
-What son?
-What is postmodernism?
- This is son, when you can’t eat too much!
I wiped my snot and looked out the window. In the yard, in the sandbox
the boys from the house opposite were sitting: Arkashka, Vitka, Seryozhka and
some other small fry, like Nikki Mayca.
-Mom, can I go for a walk?
“Go son,” the mother looked up from the borscht. - Just walk around
yard
-Okay mam.
The entrance smelled of socialist realism. I calledelevator. As usual in
The older boys hung out there. This time they greedily pawed
half-undressed, stoned slut from the neighboring yard. I wanted too
touch her for something, but suddenly I felt disgusted and ran away
to the boys' goat neighing. On the fifth floor, approx.
my pipeline, lay high on drugs Pycuk and his
company. From their kopmahob I borrowed a pack of "Golden Java" and
five dollars. I lit a cigarette, feeling almost like an adult.
As usual, in the area of apartment twenty-five there was a pile of
used condoms. Clearly through the door
All sorts of moans and sobs were heard. Before me
there were doubts about the origin of such sounds, but my
classmate Sim enlightened me on this matter. I got hooked
several used condoms from someone's toy
with a spatula, slammed his feet on the door of the twenty-fifth with all his might
and rushed out. Gloatingly savoring the opportunity that happened to
frightened lovers, I was so carried away that I didn’t notice
how he ended up on the street. The bulls sat on the benches and tinkered with
dolls.
-Surprise! - I shouted and threw a bunch of
products indicated above on the blade.
The women threw their dolls and screamedrushed into
scattered.
-Fool, crazy, crazy! - they cackled.
PROFESSION: HEMORRHOIDS.
-Hello guys! - I greeted cheerfully.
-Don't bother us! - Nikki Mays hissed, looking up from his
molds.
-And no one talks to you! - viciously
I answered.
- Did you run into it? - Vitka spoke up.
-What are you doing, I want it too!
-Don't you see? - Arkashka spoke. - We are building a castle in it
will live
ants!
-Let me help you.
-We can do without you! - Vitka noted authoritatively.
- What fools, some drunkard will come at night and
will destroy your stinking castle!
- You're a fool! - said Arkashka. - If they break it, we’ll build it again!
Seryozhka watched us carefully, but did not speak
entered. He sits, minds his own business, flogs everything, but is silent.
Cunning. Vitka began to grindwith his bulldozer, digging up whole
layers of sand and dumping behind the sandbox, and Arkashka helped emy
rusted blades.
-Let's go for a walk in the park!? - I suggested weakly
warming hope.
-What is there to do in your park?! - he responded sarcastically
Vitka. - To spy on how the elders grope whores?!
“Well..” I hesitated. - You can hapbatb chestnuts or listen
how punks play guitar! Otherwise you separated from everyone and sat in
this sandbox is like bugs.
“That’s interesting,” Nikki Mayc said dreamily. - Here
Will you ever get married, Vitka?
The bucket of Vitka’s bulldozer jammed and he angrily replied:
-Why?!
-But I don’t know. - Nikki sniffed.
-And I’m getting married! - I said.
- Come on! - Arkashka was surprised.
-Yes! I'll finish school and get married.
-Will you be with your wife? - Nikki took her breath away.
Seryozhka chuckled loudly. I thought and shrugged
replied:
-I don’t know, I probably will.Nikki froze in a daze from what he heard. My words were
a revelation for him and he didn’t even wipe the snot that came out of
nostrils Vitka twirled his finger at his temple and returned to
sand digging.
It's funny: sand is sand, you can make something out of it
whatever. But even heavy-duty locks tend to turn
in the sand. And it doesn’t matter whether an idle drunk or the army has a hand
ants: the result will always be the same. Well, let them sit
they're getting hemorrhoids, and I'm going to the park.
MICHAEL JACKSON AND CODE PAGE 866.
The park was crowded as always. I was glad to get out
urban cluster of panel-brick dens. I hate it
when all these uncles and aunts look at you from their balconies
sides Everything is different here. I joined with interest
to onlookers contemplating the game of two grandfathers in backgammon. They played poorly
not to say lousy. I still wandered around the park, nothing
without seeing or smelling anything special. Actually from pleasant and
The only thing I did that was useful was connecting a tin can
through a wire with a fluffy tail of a skinny cat and outpouring
excess fluid from your body. As mama would say
"I was doing a lot of crap." I suddenlystarted to think, "maybe
time to go home?" and then I noticed a growing crowd. In hope
pinch some woman, baring a stupid smile, I trot
galloped towards the crowd. The cause of the blockage turned out to be a young guy in
white clothes with blue polka dots, without socks and shoes. Its white
teeth clicked non-stop, trying to bite the fluttering
pink tongue.
“It’s getting better,” I thought. “He’ll also bite off his own tongue.”
But the guy didn’t seem to care much about the problem of a bitten tongue and
he still, passionately clicking his teeth, scratched his speech with boneless
commmyhukatopom.
-Here we have found a lecturer! - I was indignant. - Maybe listen
What is he talking about there?!
-.. if you remove the husks, it deprives the “I” of integrity, like
independent personality and gives dominance to “something more
high level." That is, the personality is morphed into a sheep, the point is
which to pluck the grass and go where the shepherd dogs and
The shepherd's finger points. The herd instinct itself
involves the selection of a dominant individual and unification around
her. Atavism is essentially used by someone for selfish purposes.
-I probably ate too many mushrooms... - I thought.
Out of the corner of my eyeI felt the approach of a drunk-drunk man
gentleman, swaying from side to side with a frantic
amplitude. Passers-by shied away from him because
the drunken gentleman was of enormous height, fierce-looking and loud
deigned to shout obscene songs. The drunk gentleman pushed the audience away
newly-minted guru and red eyes, like a well-deserved
state terminator Arnold, photographed the boy.
-What a stink! - the boy exclaimed.
-Hey, you damn smart guy, explain to me why I live! -
asked the drunken gentleman, hiccupping deliciously.
-Sir, you are drunk! - the guy boldly shouted.
-Yes, I'm drunk! - the drunken gentleman could barely stand on his feet and
clung to passers-by, trying in vain to stay on his feet. - I
damn drunk, which makes me feel unspeakable joy and
carefree!
-That's how it is! - the guy grinned sarcastically. - Sit down..
A drunken gentleman sat down on the afalt, lit a cigarette,
barely, and stared attentively at the guy.
-Come on, boy, teach daddy how to live!
-What are you.. Your name.. excuse me?
-Michael Jackson! - the drunken gentleman neighed.
-.. Michael, you askquestions like these are nothing more than
spiritual impatience!
-What?! - the man squeezed out in a creaking voice. - But not in the forehead
do you want?
- You're a fool! Such questions are asked only by those who are disappointed in
life, people burdened by it, tired. By doing this you show
dissatisfaction with the world around you, which, by the way, was
created by someone.
-So what?
- Well.. - the guy hesitated. - It’s no good to rebel against one’s own
essence, as well as rejecting the entire universe. Of course it is
harsh, you have to pay for everything, even for love. But the most important
our enemy is ourselves. Self-pity: the fate of losers and
weaklings. The one who dies last is right.
-What are you, a shtyndt or something? - The drunken gentleman raised his eyebrows.
-I am Russian.
“Brrr...” the man shook his head. - Do you hear, yes, I didn’t do anything
I understand,” he muttered. - But I want to say one thing: never, I understand
yes? Never mix beer with vodka! I see you're a healthy big guy, but
with your head, it's really bad.
-Thanks for the advice. - the guy shrugged his shoulders.
I didn't last sceneI saw it because I was running home. From
Brain-eating conversations always awaken your appetite.
ZERO BEAT.
p.s. It seems that all the arrows have reached their target. what's next? Excerpt from
Heinlein.
"I think you are insensitive to the temptations of religion. If not,
then I can't help you, just like I can't stop you
become a drug addict. Religion is sometimes a source of happiness, and
I wouldn't deprive anyone of their happiness. But it's a consolation
befits only the weak - but you are strong. Main problem
religion - any religion - is that the religious
a person, having accepted certain statements on faith, cannot then
judge their truth based on facts. You can warm up
warm fire of faith or choose a life of harsh uncertainty
reason - but it is impossible to have both."
What an old bastard! Didn’t say at all directly between what and what
choice.
I would like to note to spiteful critics: the bestial treatment of one’s history and
culture leads to dire consequences. Here the other day I issued
one: "worship (!) of ancient Russian deities leads to
Satanism (!!!)."What can you advise a gentleman with a sparkle in his eyes? From
Get rid of excess saliva somewhere where there is no Russian soil.
It is not surprising that some individuals
turn away.. A beam in the eye is an unpleasant sight, as well as
slobbering mouth.
So gentlemen with shovels, we need to knock more actively
tambourine, capadet more function. For this I take my leave, loudly
burping and picking his nose with his finger. I squeeze your throat tightly, your daddy.
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