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CONTENT
Preface. About tankozakidatelctvo, and other…
p. 3
PROSE and POUETIKA
Steven Duplij
p. 13
Dmitry Kovrigin,
p. 43
Nikolay Leskov
p. 57
Larissa Mironova
p. 61
Larisa MIRONOVA
Creative biography
p. 180
List of books published by Larisa MIRONOVA /1989-2022/
p. 182
PREFACE
About tankozakidatelctvo, and other…
The human personality and the world of values:
Emotions and a dry figure (in the genre of miniatures)
1. Higher values.
Emotions are the carrot and stick of evolution
In order to achieve clarity on this issue, and most importantly, to understand why they want to promote something else into the public consciousness, under the guise of such a seemingly attractive concept as "traditional values", it is necessary to understand how, where and by what methods a person comprehends these concepts themselves, "higher values". The emotional sphere is the first and necessary level at which awareness and "feeling" into this value world takes place. As far as it is possible for a person to manage such a process.
(The study of the world of emotions and their interaction with the world of Higher Values was done by me in 2013) in the framework of scientific work at the French University College, Moscow department.)
The main emotion is Love. It begins as love for man, but - in its development and growth - rises to Love for God (in other words, for Perfection) and the World (the totality of living and inanimate in the Cosmos), because every matter is intelligent in one sense or another, and therefore is alive.
Conclusion: The highest values are self-sufficient, exist independently of man, not invented by man, and will exist even in the absence of humanity. Most of the so-called "traditional values", which have a universal character, are part of a common class of higher values.
It is also concluded that at the beginning of the 21st century the epoch of a New Axial Time (the turning point, or "bifurcation point", falls on the period 2020-2022, (this time interval was calculated by me in the early 70s of the 20th century, based on the analysis of historical and cultural cycles and rhythms), and this it means that in the coming era, all the main paradigms of humanity's existence on Earth will change. The surrogate will not pass, no matter how skillfully it is concocted.
...At first glance, it may seem that the main thing in communication between people is words, but this is not entirely true, because words can be pronounced with emotions and different shades, i.e. with intonation.
Intonation is a punctuation mark, and sometimes the whole meaning of what is said depends on one comma. And facial expressions and gestures!? And the melody of the sound? Logical pauses are also separate meanings, as well as logical accents; as many linguistic links as there are logical accents, the main one is phrasal. Russian speech in general has an undulating character, the main part consists of medium tones, and this gives great opportunities for varying the entire pattern of speech. Owning your voice gives great opportunities to its owner. Illiterate, soulless and incorrectly intoned speech can turn the listener into the enemy of the speaker.
The first phase of the thought process is the formation of the problem. Let's formulate it this way: emotions are the carrot and stick of evolution.
Emotions
Emotional states are divided into two classes: actually, emotions and emotional feelings. Emotionally colored feelings (hunger, thirst, curiosity, love, hatred, attachment, etc.) are characterized by a rigid connection with a biological, social and cultural need and a complex of emotions experienced in the process of its formation and satisfaction. For example, curiosity can be accompanied by emotions of fear, anxiety, surprise or pleasure. The duration and emotional composition of feelings are determined by the processes of formation and satisfaction of needs. In turn, emotions themselves are also divided into two classes: innate (fundamental, basic) and acquired in individual, social or cultural experience. The list of names of basic emotions varies somewhat from author to author, but if we move from the linguistic method of compiling a list of basic emotions to the mathematical method and present the "contents" of this list in the form of a geometric space, then we can see that in fact everyone is talking about one structure of emotions, highlighting two essential characteristics: the first can be designated as emotional opponents – surprise and disgust, shame and contempt, etc. The second general characteristic is the gradient connection between individual emotions. Many researchers, including Darwin, noted that curiosity can gradually change, turning into surprise, and surprise – "into chilling amazement," etc., thereby significantly reorienting our reaction and subsequent actions.
Emotions in the general structure of thinking
Emotions are what concretizes the thesis about the subjectivity of thinking, its motivational conditionality: emotions most accurately reflect the relationship between motives (needs) and success or the possibility of successful implementation of the activity corresponding to them. Russian scientists L.S.Vygotsky, S.L.Rubinstein and A.N.Leontiev worked out this question in the light of the similarity of cognitive and emotional processes, considering emotion as the unity of the emotional and intellectual and linking all kinds of emotional phenomena (affects, emotions, feelings) with mental activity. Intellectual aggression, intellectual stress, intellectual frustration is also distinguished. The internal conditions of the thinking process are both the emergence and the complex dynamics of all emotional assessments.
In order to identify the functions of emotional activation, a parameter such as a change in the organization of activity after the subject was emotionally activated is investigated. During the experiment, skin resistance drops sharply by the 20th minute of continuous reflection, by which time people have the idea of solving a problem of medium complexity. Then a hypothesis arises (as an action with which the solution of the problem is connected), and by the 30th minute the solution itself is already ready, as confidence (and the state "I think I know how to do it" appeared 10 minutes earlier). This is the emotional solution to the problem, when the maximum value of a sharp drop in the electrical voltage of the skin is recorded, the speech reaction occurs after 2-4 minutes. Thus, the emotional reaction is twice ahead of the response at the speech level: when naming a probable hypothesis and a ready-made solution.
The moment of the appearance of an emotional solution divides the whole process of thinking into two qualitatively different phases: after the appearance of an emotional solution to a mental problem, the entire structure of speech reasoning changes. Thoughts are now more directed, only possible transformations of the situation after the selected action are considered, the volume of research actions is reduced, the phenomenon of re-examination of some elements disappears, which indicates a certain regulatory function. In the process of thinking, there was also a shift of emotional zones, between which a certain hierarchy and continuity is formed: one prepares the other, and so on until the emotional decision itself appears.
When forming a hypothesis, there is an increase in the emotional coloring of the same action. The accumulation of emotions and the gradual shift of the emotionogenic zone are conditions already related to the birth of the hypothesis. The final name of the solution is also preceded by an emotion, which is shown by the registration of a drop in skin resistance. An emotional shift also precedes thinking in the wrong direction, however, after a negative assessment of the unsuccessful direction of the search, the thought returns not to the beginning of the task, but to some critical emotionally colored point. So, obviously, emotions in the process of thinking play the role of a navigator, because they perform various kinds of regulatory, heuristic functions that determine not only the deployment of the search in depth, but also, in case of an error, a return to a certain intermediate point. This is what makes possible the successful solution of a very complex task beyond the control of even the most "advanced" computer. If emotions do not arise and the subject feels lethargy, disinterest, depression caused by some external circumstances, there may not be a solution to the problem at all.
Only very easy tasks can be solved without emotions, DIFFICULT ones – NEVER.
The analysis of the thinker's speech does not show that the principle of the solution was found when the verbalization of thinking began, and the search for a solution is still underway. Emotion arises as a decision–making body issuing a non-specific stop signal, as an indication that it is already "warmer", yes, this is where we need to look; as an anticipation of a fundamental solution to the problem, and emotion arises - "a sense of proximity to the solution."
So first an approximate area is allocated where the principle of the solution can be found, then the principle itself is found. Emotional activation is associated with the first, preliminary phase, which, as it were, determines the subjective value of the search direction. The interpretation according to which the state of emotional activation prepares the finding of the solution principle, and not just ahead of its expression in speech, is also confirmed by the fact that the state of emotional activation is itself prepared by the states preceding it: accumulation of emotions and shift of the emotionogenic zone.
During the transition to the formation of the second objectively correct general plan, a bright positive emotion arises, preceding the moment of transition. Negative emotions do not necessarily interfere with intellectual activity; they are the ones that can rather prepare the transition to an objectively correct general plan.
Positive emotions perform the function of emotional guidance to objectively correct actions that will lead to the right overall plan.
Emotional anchoring
There is also a kind of affective memory, and emotional fixation is its manifestation. Negative emotional activation (a spoiled mood on the eve of solving a problem) can subsequently completely suppress the emotional activation generated by the mental activity itself. This happens because the very possibility of the emergence of an emotionally anchored experience necessary for closure with a suggestive task is blocked.
Conclusions: the transfer of experience from one situation to another occurs not only on a logical, but also on an emotional basis. This transfer can be controlled. Emotional consolidation creates greater ease of actualization of experience, readiness to mobilize it, and the focus of the search. Emotional experience is one of the mechanisms of guidance on the solution, it, importantly, affects the restructuring of the task during the solution.
The connection of unconscious meaning with emotions
Nonverbalized (unspoken, unconscious) meaning is associated with intellectual emotions in something like this: the condition for their occurrence is the development of nonverbalized operational meanings of elements. Emotional anticipations are included in the process of forming hypotheses, their own actions, in the process of discovering the properties of elements in a transformative situation. However, emotional anticipation itself may have a different nature.
Emotional anticipations always appear in the active phases of the thought process; at the same time, they are stages of the goal-setting process. The delay in emotional assessments regarding the appearance of speech formulation is characteristic only at intermediate stages.
There is a hypothesis about the fruitful interaction of positive and negative emotions. At the same time, at the moment of activation of the negative emotional system, a reciprocal exacerbation of sensitivity to positive reinforcements occurs. On this basis, there is a kind of emotional apprehension of even the slightest success, but it is also believed that a negative emotional assessment occurs only when the plan of the solution as a whole is not implemented, while individual unsuccessful trials do not cause negative emotional experience. It is also interesting that the emergence of the emotion of surprise is associated with the generation of a whole series of assumptions.
The role of emotions is especially great when solving very personal and most difficult tasks.
To understand your emotions and manage them is a long–standing dream of a person.
And this is regarded as a victory of man over nature, his own, in particular. Engels therefore wrote about it: "Let us not, however, be too deluded by our victories over nature. For every such victory, she takes revenge on us. Each of these victories has, first of all, the consequences that we expected, but in the second and third - completely different, unforeseen consequences that very often destroy all the positive significance of the first."
2. If "The number is above all"
"Yes, he is obsessed with the digital economy" - so now people from the closest circle of the "Boss" say with some breath... Is it good? And what is generally required at this stage from a world leader? In other words, what should a world leader be like in the 21st century - in an era when all moral guidelines have been deliberately lost? Certainly not a fanatic of total control. And we need to think about this right now, because in order to develop an innovative economy based on digital technologies in our country, we need to keep in mind a number of facts, many of which could have been easily neglected earlier. The question is whether it is possible in each country (or group of countries) to have its own Silicon Valley, where innovations are produced and big bonuses are received for it. The established stereotypes (Paris understands fashion, Detroit understands cars, and Silicon Valley, located in California, is the best versed in IT technologies), although strong, can still be revised in the era of changing the general paradigm of the era, and a new analogue of the above valley may appear not only in a completely different place, but also on slightly different principles, only one of them will remain unshakable – the highest social status of a computer engineer and programmer-developer remains.
Digital currency and fintech are the first of the industries of the near future, and this is only the beginning of a long way of rebuilding the world in a new way, however, not by destroying everything old to the very foundations, but by cultivating novelty on millennial fields generously provided with various historical experiences. Today there are two world centers where dozens of transactions worth hundreds of millions of dollars are concluded with technology companies that undertake to improve the work of the banking sector - these are the traditional financial world centers - New York and London. But if these centers have been held for several centuries, then it is permissible to ask the question – and how, in this case, will they be dispersed in the industry of the future? Or will this kind of endless cycle, not by washing, but by rolling, on the mountain, not only to all the bourgeois, but to the whole world as a whole, move into a new era? Will the traditional kings of the world of finance allow various small fry to be independent there, doing all sorts of things in the financial field, who is good at what? Investors give two completely different, however, equivalent answers that begin with "if":
A). (unipolar world)
If "big data" will serve to further centralize business, drawing more and more new industries into the field of attraction of Silicon Valley ...
B). (multipolar world)
If "big data will allow for uniform diversification of global business…
Plan A believes that the California Silicon Valley is an eternal world empire, in this scenario, companies from this ubiquitous valley will uncompetitive manage any business in the world, if only this business takes into account "big data", that is, virtually everywhere. And countries with a high level of education and low salaries (as in Russia) will continue to supply specialists with a high level of intelligence to the traditional world conveyor - for the needs of this valley. And this will lead to income equalization around the world. However, something else may happen. If today far from the entire business of the planet is being crushed under Silicon Valley, this does not mean that as soon as the first significant success in an area not yet covered with silicon dawns somewhere, specialists from Silicon Valley will silently watch from the sidelines how the newly-born competitor pumps muscle. And this is despite the fact that so far they are more characterized by deep immersion in self-contemplation (90% of resources are focused on only 10% of world problems). However, in fact, they will immediately get tough, as soon as the redistribution of IT markets begins.
Plan B (and it was also invented in the West, in the USA) is based on the idea that "big data" will not behave like omnivorous predators and will not absorb everything indiscriminately, moreover, they will even begin to show reasonable humanism towards those who wish to consider them (these "big data") is just a convenient tool that every business will use at its discretion for their personal needs. And for this, "big data" should become sufficiently scalable, which will allow them to be distributed more evenly, instead of concentrating, as has already happened in genomics and robotics. In this case, a business in the field of analytics can arise anywhere, and the "big data" market can become a source of renewal for traditional industrial centers, becoming a source of renewal for them.
If we keep in mind Russia, (especially within the USSR), then such centers are still everywhere and in large numbers, although they have been drained of blood. It's a small matter – to observe adequacy in a combination of experience and the ability to create the right algorithms. But then the possible gladiator fights will begin. Germany, having lost the IT market, will probably want to use its experience in the field of logistics and the production of household appliances to capture the analytics market in these areas, which is reflected in the initiative called Industry 4.0. And if, as a result, the best companies are scattered around the world, wealth creation will go a different way, radically different from how it was at the time of the formation of the Internet, when the lion's share of all income was concentrated on a "patch" measuring 19x10 km. The geography of future industries will become more vital, and stories like this happened to New Zealand, where the number of dairy cattle is twice as large as the number of the country's population. Now Silicon Valley is buying up everything in a row – from taxi services to all kinds of mobile applications related to photography. (And not Silicon Valley!) With such appetites, it is unlikely that they will learn to understand cows very well in the foreseeable future in order to become worthy competitors to New Zealanders. However, globalism as a centralization of business will never give up its position so easily. Alternatively, one can foresee the following: the founding fathers will try to create fifty Silicon Valley clones around the world, but uniquely different from each other and specializing in various fields.
In this way, the geographical distribution of local experience will occur and new centers of innovation and monetization will arise. This will be the end of Silicon Valley's dominance in the field of high technology for two decades, and there will be no New Rome, even if Silicon Valley remains in the role of the main manager of its clones. Old cities, their universities and research centers, will be able to act as hubs of innovation.
However, there are more and more cities, although now you can settle anywhere, and they grow in breadth and upward, thereby creating, among other things, convenient conditions for the rapid destruction of a huge number of people, here and at once. - as a cancerous tumor does, let's not be afraid of this comparison.
If in 1800 only 3% of the world's population lived in cities, now this figure has already exceeded half (about 55%), and 30% of the world's economy is concentrated in 100 world centers. It should be noted that even when cities were less than 1%, then in those distant times cities were also growth factors, all world empires fed on their power.
The British Empire took shape in the 19th century only after they created a chain of cities – from Cape Town (1814) to Singapore (1824) and Hong Kong (1842).
AND NOW THESE SAME KEY CITIES LINK THE REGIONS TOGETHER, JUST AS IT WAS IN THE DAYS OF THE EMPIRE.
Cities create positive externalities – the effects of the flow of ideas, labor and capital, simplifying coordination between people. Now Shanghai, New York, London and Tokyo are leading in this sense, being the largest exporters of advanced services around the world and, in fact, closed self-sufficient economies in miniature.
This is what every world leader should know firsthand if he does not want the country he leads to be dragged somewhere in the tail of progress or to rest on the sidelines at all. And more. It is shameful and somehow embarrassing to listen to boastful political chatter about how our leaders bravely rebelled against the dictatorship of the United States, which crushed the whole world, and as a "bold alternative" they are promoting the project of a multipolar world.
(In fact, Plan B, invented in the USA.)
But in fact, this is just participation in the next stage of the same vile form of globalization, as described above. As for America, which globalism today resolutely pushes from the center of the whole world, only the lazy one does not write about the inevitability of this process now, but this will hardly make life easier for the world, because every mutt is ready to bark at a dead lion. Now is the time to lend a helping hand to the hardworking
American people, as well as to all other hardworking people of the world (and not just the war), in order to solve the emerging problems together, instead of entering a new, absolutely destructive round of increasing total confrontation.
Shvonders and small jackals with big ambitions are inciting people to more and more aggression, although they will never send their children to the battlefield. This is beneficial only to greedy politicking scoundrels living on war – private military-industrial complex multinational corporations, as well as all similar structures that think not about the security of the country and the welfare of the people, but solely about their profits and maintaining their own premium level of consumption and beyond.
PROSE
Steven Duplij
It's good that you've been gone for a long time, Mom
Emotion-political sketch
Today, as every year, I remember that you are gone again. I get on a bike, a stranger, I drive around the city, a stranger, I go to the house, a stranger, I talk to people, strangers, I feel that everything is alien. Because — without you.
You have no idea what's going on in the world right now and what happened while you were gone. Even in a terrible dream, I could never imagine. Maybe if you had seen it then, before you left, you wouldn't have regretted at all that you didn't get into this future time. A very strange future: without the country in which you lived, without those people to whom you were so devoted, without those values that kept us "afloat". Nobody needs or is interested in anything now. Because — there is no one. In reality, there is no one. Only the illusion of people, the illusion of goals and aspirations, the illusion of feelings and relationships remained. Everything is gone — into oblivion, into anti-civilization.
Yes. It's good that you're not really watching all this. You wouldn't believe your eyes. The degree of insanity is off the scale in all countries, and "developed" and "underdeveloped" countries will soon change places altogether. Here are just a few things that I can't help but tell you
Mom, could you imagine that in a huge country, a part of the population of one race would be forced to kiss dirty shoes to representatives of another race? Even the mayor of the city did it. Formally, for the fact that the latter worked for the former for food, and not for millions of dollars just some 400 years ago. To wear portraits and call the streets the names of real murderers and criminals who have real terms not served in prisons? Imagine being kicked out of work if a person calls a boy a boy, a girl a girl, a dad a dad and a mom a mom? It is impossible, now they are the parent of No. 1 and No. 2. In some of the most perverted countries, "as many as" 14 genders have been invented. And in hospitals, there are queues for several years to make one sex into another — artificially. And even teenagers who are still banned from tattoos, but the gender can already be changed. Here are the comedians. Everywhere, even in schools, there is now "super-tolerance": subjects about transgender people (these are such beings who are considered to have 2 genders at the same time, or maybe all 14) and pornography (with instructions on who is whom, how and how many times) are the most important subjects. At the same time, physics, mathematics, chemistry are combined into one subject and reassigned to "natural sciences", and poor students teach such a complex subject only 1 hour a week. I wonder what will turn out of such children, except for the garbage of society, but "tolerant"?
As an obstetrician-gynecologist, would you be curious to know that now you can officially give birth to children for sale, or have an abortion a month before birth and sell your already formed child as a bag of "fresh" organs for very expensive? What is it — just for a car / apartment / trip "to the south" was not enough. And if you accumulate a lot of money on crimes, then in "very free" countries it is allowed to buy your own island and take other people's children there by plane, without reporting how much was taken back. But you can even invite presidents to pay for expenses, untouchability and security, so that they read "innocent bedtime stories" to children. Now even open statistics are published in newspapers: every year almost a million children disappear in the world. It's strange, and where have they all gone, naive correspondents who know about these islands, firms "for organ harvesting" as if "for transplantation" and obtaining special drugs for rejuvenation from them, with million-dollar budgets and even restaurants with a delicious human, the presence of which no one thinks to hide. Here is such a "delicious" "openness and democracy" reigns now.
No, Mom. It's not like you're standing at the operating table for hours to save every mom and her baby, which you've done many times. You even have an album with photos of rescued children. I remember that you never took a penny for it. She said: I have a salary, and I have enough of it. Well, flowers and sweets could not be thrown in the face of a sincere giver. I remember very well how you hid boxes of sweets between the duvet covers in the chiffonier. But I knew all the "special places" and applied this knowledge regularly. So, when guests came, and you solemnly put a half-empty box of good sweets on the table for tea, my father used the belt for its intended purpose, only one thing pleased that the execution was "fun" - after the guests left.
Mom, why did you do this, why did you save the children, if now it's perfectly legal for your fellow countrymen, and maybe the children you saved, to become drunkards and drug addicts, to shoot their own countrymen and their children with tanks and howitzers — and with impunity and for years. And nothing — just medals "for bravery" of shooting at kindergartens for their own. The reason is simple: getting money not for work and the creation of something useful, but for the murders - from the same killers standing over them, but with money from even higher, or even foreign "right" killers. You saved one child every time in one operation, and they can kill several children in one shot (even without aiming, many simply do not know how or have already drunk, just at random), and then be proud of the murders and show medals to everyone — "heroism" against the "aggressor" who has their own children and part-time jobs where you don't have to kill anyone. Why did you save these children, standing at the operating table all night long?
Mom, do you know why children are being "turned on" now? To take pictures and send them to everyone you know on all social networks, where all the social idlers are sitting. They poke a phone with a camera at themselves and the children every minute, as well as at their plates, what they eat (it's good that it doesn't reach the toilets yet, although maybe I'm behind?), and send thousands of mailings to hundreds of acquaintances and not so much — by pressing one button (no one writes individual letters now). Everything is simple. No manifestations of films and fixers — do you remember how my father and I sat for hours in a dark bathroom with dozens of chemicals for developing photographic films? And one film — for two minutes and 10 meters of film — took half a day, and then it dried until the evening. Therefore, each frame developed by his own hands was worth its weight in gold — a living carrier of those of our feelings in time to infinity.
Do you remember, Mom, how many fairy tales you read to me? And grandparents, too. Now everything is easier — parents put the child at the age of one month in front of the TV. Let him watch for hours and "develop" himself. So as not to interfere. Then in front of a computer or a phone with a screen. And so on until adulthood.
Remember, we had only two TV channels back then: 3rd and 9th. Now there are hundreds of channels, thousands of TV series. The series is when half—finished actors run around in front of the camera without preparation and learning the text, talk nonsense and do not play, but show off, trying to show only themselves or their newly bought clothes. But without duplicates, in real time. And the "actors" earn good money. And the suckers near the screens are happy — there is no easier "action" than incompetent and thoughtless antics and self-admiration. Stanislavsky would have shouted "I don't believe" after every phrase.
Imagine, Mom, you worked to get a salary and raise children. Now in some Western countries it is not necessary to do this. I ran across the border illegally without documents, announced that I was fleeing from some "bad regime", and you are already a "refugee". People have become meat. In the store you pay for meat, and now they pay money to meat, for the fact that he, a man, has become just meat: a large piece is a lot, and a small one is paid less. A large piece of meat makes sense to make small pieces more, then you can sleep all your life and not work, while dragging overflowing food carts from stores, although it's boring. This is what meat differs from a living person: neither work nor study meat is necessary, as long as it turns out to be fruitful. And why do they recruit so many of them there? Young twenty-year-old guys mostly. Women and children are less likely. Just so that they are shown on TV. So that it would be a pity, and the borders can be opened, albeit illegally. Maybe the goal is interesting? How to arrange a "more cheerful" "sunset of Europe"? What will several generations of parasites do on the body of society who have never worked — neither for themselves nor for their country, if they don't even remember what their country is called? It's easy to guess what might happen when their numbers exceed the critical mass. However, it's scary.
Now you're going to laugh: even comedians and housewives can become presidents. Here I would have voted for you, even though you were a much higher rank — the head of the gynecological department. But you don't need it: you're a professional. You studied at the medical institute perfectly, you read books, developed. And you were respected and loved by all the women around. They understood that you knew everything. Own. About them.
And now —it comes to the absurd. Could you imagine that the president of the country in the past would have been a professional buffoon for decades and played a causal place on the piano (the "original" joke was "borrowed" from a pre–war French comedian) - and all this in a TV show on the main channel of the country? There is no question of reading any books and political education at all. For example, what would you say if Brezhnev, Mao Zedong, Roosevelt or Churchill played a popular classical melody for the whole country with this important place of theirs, while hilariously making faces at the piano? It would be a lot of fun to watch.
You loved to talk about politics, but then there was no such horror. Look at this — in one country, all sorts of "main" leaders say to the leaders of another country: put this housewife as president, we order. No popular elections matter, we do not believe and do not want to recount. We just want to. Put your own people everywhere, so that it's easier to rob local idiots - "legally" and with impunity. She, this housewife — after all, the wife (or mistress, no one knows) of a certain "blogger" — these are now such idlers divorced: uneducated, who have not read a single book alive (only a couple of lines on the Internet), these overgrown fools — sit with beer at the computer screen 24 hours a day and poke one finger in the keyboard, they type all sorts of nasty things in all places where they are allowed and for which they are well paid. Just to "light up" everywhere. In order not to call them morons, they are called "bloggers", often "trolls". And some in their mud can crawl to the top. It comes to such a case, for example
So, Mom, politics is different now. They order from other countries, if you do not put a housewife as our "good" president, then your current and elected by the people (still your elections are "wrong" by definition) "bad" president — we will "remove" ourselves. How? It's very simple: we'll give youngsters and girls without money ten dollars each, let them (rather than go to work or university) make a good make-up, buy beer and run around the streets with flowers and take pictures, provoke the police, throw everything into it that the "foreign liberators" will raise and order, and homemade grenades even (so that they can successfully bang themselves for the edification of the "bad" president), so that everyone's picture in their phone or camera turns out to be beautiful. Her, this picture, is sold to foreign "free" media and they say what kind of guy, the president is a non-cook, very bad, put us a cook. We'll even give her the Nobel Prize — for "cookery". Now everything is "free" everywhere. Now the Nobel Prize is distributed only to their own politically: yap at a "bad" country from a "good" one - get the prize. And the current president, whom the people "incorrectly" chose, we will arrest and shoot, or even hang — very "democratic" (and this was already in reality in different countries that refused to appoint "good" and "cooks" appointed from outside as presidents): after all, the "bad" president is so "bad" that he did not gently disperse young morons from the streets, did not give them another $ 20 for being rowdy, provoking a mess and making a show for foreign TV. Then there will be a "reason" for this disobedient president to be "legally" arrested, brought to some beautiful city outside his country, where murderers and hangmen sit "importantly" in a large room, and this is called the "most humane and fairest court" in the whole world, whose laws are higher than local laws of countries. And many presidents legitimately elected by their peoples have already been so "justly" hanged and killed "super-democratically", even "affectionately" pierced through with sticks in a live broadcast on all channels of the world, so that other presidents who have not yet been pierced with sticks — it was unwise not to obey the "cooks". So Grandpa Lenin — with his primitive phrases about cooks and the state — is just now burning up and turning over there with laughter. He was so close to the truth.
Remember, we were told a lot about democracy back then. But no one thinks that democracy (in our understanding of democracy, and not in the original one) is not only popular elections, but also the second important principle: the losing side agrees to lose. This is a double principle of real democracy.
We need to negotiate before the elections. After all, if the losing side does not agree, then elections are not needed at all, in principle. What is the point of "elections" if it is known in advance that no one agrees to anything? And there will still be a fight and a squabble. The circus is just that. That's how it is now in all countries. Double standards, lies and bribery, poisoning of "beauty bloggers" and setting up "cooks" are considered the norm in our "very, very free and very, very fair" time. And "democracy".
You know, and about the other positions, except for the presidential one, I'm not talking at all: any imbecile for money can be in any position now. At the same time, you don't need to know anything at all. Learning something is just a shame. A thief and a bribe taker can get "up" (which is basically everywhere), who not only reads no more than one line by syllables and cannot write, he also does not know how to speak intelligible phrases, at least two in a row. Solid moo and stuff for folk jokes. The social elevator has turned into an antiunitase: the shit from the shit climbs up and crawls. And having achieved his goals (mostly more money), he pours the same on top of everyone. The main thing is that this shit's pride in itself and self-love exceeds its terrible smell many times.
Do you remember, Mom, how sacred we were to study, to gain knowledge, to develop ourselves. On weekends, the three of us with my father sat on the bed, put in the middle all the magazines that came by subscription for a month (mainly "Nature" and "Science and Life"), then read in turn articles about new discoveries in physics and biology, space flights and technology.
Now no one reads this, and the study itself has turned into a farce. Everything is on the so-called Internet, an international grid of bytes for tracking everyone: invented in one "friendly" country for everyone in a military building with five walls, where thousands of "legal" murderers are sitting and planning who else to kill or hang "democratically" and "fairly".
The Internet was invented there for simple surveillance of everyone, but formally — like for information about everything. I pressed the button and everything was shown to you on the screen. You don't need to learn and remember anything. They'll laugh.
Do you remember when my father started giving me weekly assignments of 10 questions in physics and mathematics? This is after you were called to school and told that you have a moron growing up: only girls pull their braids and then look out the window thoughtfully. Although he solves all the problems and suggests, unscrupulous, to others, and even not for free, but mutually — for assignments in literature, which he does not like, that's why they put me away separately at all tests in mathematics and physics.
Can you imagine what is happening with exams everywhere now, at school and at the institute? They give questions along with three answers, only the birds should be put or marked on the screen. That's it. Moreover, if you do not know anything and do not prepare for the exam, but just poke randomly, then you have already passed everything by 33%. Most of them do. Probability theory in action. And lectures are read on the "remote" on the monitor.
The lecturer sits or stands near the computer screen and tells the material to students or students. There is almost no feedback and control over who is sleeping and who is eating, who is turned off at all. This is now a modern "education". These will now be "doctors", "designers", "engineers" and "space explorers". They so "fly" and so "treat", it will not seem enough.
Do you remember, Mom, how we all had the flu and were treated for it with simple methods. Pneumonia was no more difficult. Tea with lemon, warmth, folk methods, aspirin — and that's enough. I also tried to simulate before the test, so that I wouldn't go to school that day. But you were smarter. She said: go today, and tomorrow, if it gets worse, you'll stay at home. And I tried so hard, coughed, it didn't help. Strict and fair, you were smart.
Remember, you wore a mask only at work in the hospital and then only during medical manipulations. Now everyone has been told: someone in another country ate bats and got infected with, it is not known what, like a virus, so - always wear masks. And everywhere. And then they can beat you. All children from the age of 2 and the elderly after 70 — too. To breathe less. There's nothing to waste air on. Recently, the children on the line at one school just fainted from this crazy masquerade. Also, a prostitute from Amsterdam was shown on TV, who "swore" to the camera (so that the fine would not be issued) that she would receive clients in a mask and rubber gloves. An interesting and original idea. In restaurants and bars, all bosses walk with a meter and measure distances. If the distance between the tables is 1 meter 45 centimeters, then you will definitely get infected with what, it is unclear. And you'll get a fine. For half a month's salary. Kindly. "For the sake of health." But 1 meter and 50 centimeters can be — "scary-the virus" does not "reach" at all: you can drink and eat as much as you want. Hundreds of enterprises and businesses have been closed in many countries.
What for? Although hundreds of times more people die from influenza and tuberculosis than from this "scary-scary" specially grown for fear, as it were, "virus". But no one really knows what it is. They will poke your nose with a cotton wand, although it is unknown what is on it, and after 10 minutes they say that the test for some kind of "virus" is positive. They called it a "crown" so that everyone would be proud and afraid. Although a virus is a DNA sequence, it takes months to find and isolate. It is unclear who is testing what. At the same time, the virus is spreading strangely — only among those who are poked with sticks with something. At the same time, hundreds of thousands of people in different countries go to riots and different protests (to live even "freer", and get money not for work, but for idle wandering), rob hundreds of shops (they were built and maintained by people with the "wrong" skin color), overthrow "bad" governments (and then they are already tired, they sit and sit so much, and there is no movement and no performance) — and they do not magically get infected. But, using this one virus as an excuse (out of almost a thousand that live peacefully in our country), progress is underway. For pocket phones with a screen, they came up with a program that shows all people as if infected with this virus. Moreover, one, and dozens of other diseases are ignored. But in vain.
Imagine, Mom, if there was such a device that would show all women's diseases. In my younger years, I would have given all the money and immediately without hesitation — for such a device. It would be especially important for you as a specialist to have it. A woman comes to see you as a gynecologist, and you have everything about her on the screen, what she is sick with and how seriously. And a doctor is not needed for diagnosis, only for treatment. And then why did you have two racks of books up to the ceiling on obstetrics and gynecology? On the books from the lower shelves, as you told me, I learned to read from the captions under the "interesting" pictures. You said that at the age of five I was already lecturing on this topic, using primary sources, collecting children from neighboring entrances. However, then their parents, after listening to children's leading questions, resorted to you, Mom, and strongly discussed the essence of these pictures. Then my father beat me. However, as always, deservedly. Or here is such a useful application. You meet a girl, and you have the whole spectrum of her female diseases on your phone screen. And you already know exactly how to behave with her further and what to do, whether to get acquainted with her parents after that, to bring them to your own. Or vice versa, you are looking for a girl with syphilis, turned on the phone, and they with red marks scurry back and forth across the screen.
You catch up with one and say: I finally found you—with him. But at the same time — all your data, health parameters and the place where you are and what you "freely" do are with someone. Completely "secretly" from everyone — of course, except those who will need this data. And the "virus" "lonely" can — as an excuse? The game is so weird. It is very similar to a simple scam. It's called global surveillance and total humiliation. I can't believe this is reality. Very unusual and funny. If it wasn't so sad.
Do you remember, Mom, the demonstrations on May 1 and November 7? Our whole small town gathered in the central square. All the women dressed up in the evening and were very beautiful. We walked formally through this square, waved flags, talked, shared news, enjoyed life, took pictures and made movies about each other, not just about ourselves. Then, when I was studying at the university, we were also "driven" to demonstrations. But it was also a positive phenomenon. We knew how to spend time before and after that. It was an occasion to meet with friends and communicate normally.
Now, instead of real demonstrations, there is some kind of gathering of abnormal people everywhere, transvestites (not a man or a woman, but bright devils) and other non-standard personalities who believe that they are the ones who have the right to all this bacchanalia. And the parades are no longer our heroes and defenders, but drunken and half-naked gays and lesbians, decorated in all the colors of the rainbow. Previously, these words were the biggest insult, then they were called forbidden words (pid.r or g.vnomes, sorry, but the truth is) — you could get a lot in the face for them. But now — to be not one of them is very shameful and untimely. This is now called the "freedom" type. In our time, they were imprisoned for such a very long time. And they did it right. Only now we began to understand this when we saw that there was nothing else besides this. There is no culture of communication, but only a "culture" of perversion.
Mom, do you remember how you wrote poetry? I found your diary. You wrote down your newly composed poems between your diary entries, and in one copy. There are traces of your tears on these pages. Feelings and experiences were in these lines. Real and sincere. Now everything is different. You open some literary website on your computer and write as much as you want. And you can send the same thing to 10 different sites. Then you can call yourself a poet. And write uncontrollably, without peer review (literature should also be proofread by professionals, as well as scientific articles), anything and about anything. And there are up to 10 million such hacks on one site. Instead of "not a day without a line," they reach "not an hour without a line." Where to put it and who needs this literary waste in such quantities?
Since there are not an infinite number of possible themes, and there are even fewer talents, the "poets" begin to write off each other. It's legal and open, the victims are even happy: so I was "noticed". The stolen "verse" is called a synth or in their slang "esp." from the word impromptu: themes and images are borrowed, even rhythm. All texts are the same and empty. More than half about spring/winter has come/gone, the sun has risen/set, and I feel so good/bad. But all the "scribblers" are happy. The meaning of poetry as a carrier of emotions and feelings is lost. Now everything is evaluated in points. I poked at an unfamiliar rhyme, and the author got a score, wrote a "review", called a review, too. Then he will stick a mouse in you and write what he liked. No one is interested in what others write about.
The main thing is to gain more readers and points. In addition, complexed grandmothers begin to get young poets with their raptures and empty compliments, and old pedophiles — young poetesses, with their "professional" "reviews" and personal, mostly scanty, messages. As it were — about limbo. They remember their unsatisfied youth. Also a way out. But some consider such communication as a variant of virtual infidelity, when there is not enough determination for a real one, and there are no consequences, if anything, there is no need to divorce and divide property. It's comfortable and safe, and the emotions are almost the same. Only there is more emptiness inside. And you can't get that far from loneliness, even in a family. The most visited arrange "contests" of poems: who is the best. The judges themselves, therefore, put their creations in the first place. There are no criteria, only mutual benefit from mutual scores. Such a game is for unsatisfied idlers and perverts of various kinds. And so it comes to 50 million verses per site. These are all the poets of the Silver Age and all previous centuries. And who has so many poems, aphorisms (everyone believes that one incompetent sentence is an aphorism, confusing themselves with the sages of the past), stupid and empty stories about nothing, who can read it all. And to feel, to cry, to cross? Nobody needs it. And it does not even occur to them, they do not understand what the real emotions of the text are as a reflection of the emotions of life. The very meaning of writing, the very idea, has been emasculated. Do you remember how we used to read books on the bus or subway? Now everything has changed. The boy sits on the bus and scrolls the screen of his huge phone with a large screen, on which you can drag your finger and scroll. These are the so—called "social networks".
Some jerks send stupid pictures to other jerks – 100-200 people to all their contacts, and they also scroll through these pictures very quickly.
You do not delay more than 1 second either on the picture or on the text that can be written there. At the same time, they cannot read more than one line of text. From the word in general.
They immediately go to another page or message. This is the meaning of social networks. No one reads or writes anything – more than one line. Some people are smart enough to just click on emoticons: these are such stupid pictures of two stripes, and you can guess for yourself that it's a smile or it's not a smile, but crying — such as a modern transfer of emotions. In fact, it's just a perversion for morons.
If you take away the phone from such a moron for five minutes or turn off the Internet for two minutes, then he will be convulsing and labor pains, fighting with everyone for not being given "freedom of communication". It follows from this that the most effective remedy that can sober up idly-staggering youngsters with requirements written for them and paid for by Western curators is a simple blocking of all SIM cards on a given street or square.
After 1 minute, all the next "resisting the bloody regime" youngsters and girls with flowers will run to find out from providers where the Internet is and where to run to restore the SIM card. After all, they should receive, and regularly, a lot of money from another country (relatively in vain-fees for doing nothing in their country) for high-quality obgazhivanie of their country and its president.
Because everything is a benefit and the sale of oneself and one's country for handouts in the form of toilet paper (called money — without value and gold equivalent) from a "good" country, a carrier of "democracy", that is, corpses (almost 15 million have already been killed directly and indirectly, but "democratically") for the post—war period. I feel sorry for the children.
Mom. Today is my birthday: I am one and a half times older than you, the one who left us. You were 50 on our most terrible day, and I was 26. But I'm glad. After all, it's so good that you are no longer in this pseudo-time, in this pseudo-future. And many people living now are sick of it, too. But there is nothing to do — life is life. And you need to chew it, writhing and spitting, until the end, until the last minute.
Inclement weather
Well, here you are at last. I waited. Meeting. Hundreds of hours of tedious waiting are behind us. As if everything is fine. But where are you, where are you mine? Your cold penetrates to the very depths. You're there, but only physically, and I feel like it's a game of who-who again. What for? What will it give you? Self-affirmation? Superiority? Or the establishment of your power within me? You shouldn't do that. You're sure the prize is yours. Without a fight.
You're running around. You don't know what to do. And me too. We're looking for each other. Not against each other. Wake up. Wake up from this boring habit and repetitiveness of the race! Become yourself. Sincerely. For a minute. This, though the most difficult, is the only way to the present, and not to mutual death, long before the physical one.
Night. And I'm thinking about you. Yes, I'm thinking about you. And I am not afraid — both of this itself and - to say about it. After all — everything is so. Time without you is not time. For this value, you need to come up with a new unit of measurement — a pseudo second. I don't want to measure my live time in pseudo-seconds, pseudo-hours, pseudo-days, pseudo-weather. I don't want to pseudo—live a pseudo-life - without you.
And you can't — without me, without us, without our relationship, without our present, shredded by emotions of different colors up to scarlet. The one who has tasted the present will not go for falsehood. At will. The thirst for the present is incurable by the insipidity of external events. I feel like I've become your number one person too. But there is no way back. And it's terrible. We both know that.
Yes, you can forget my face. But you don't need an image at all. Megapixels are futile. We can be separated by coordinates in space, position, mutual forgetfulness, circumstances. So what? My soul will always pour out in you, my voice will sound, my poems are yours, my songs are yours, my feeling is for you and the feeling of you is in me. And all this is inevitable, announced and forever.
I'll understand you, I'll understand — just don't be afraid of it. After all, I am always with you, not against you. I will comprehend you — exactly as you want. And your lies, and the game — even dishonest, and aspirations — even low, and intentions — even selfish. Because I am not your enemy, I do not live from the outside, but inside you. Dissolved. And intertwined — soul with soul. Even deeper than you are in yourself. And there is no strength — no one — to get rid of me. And — there is no need.
Why is everything so stormy, deserted and sad without you?;
The spasm of time
An unsleeping night... There are alien shadows on the ceiling... I'm squirming... On a single in a single. What's eating me? She? Illness? Souls? Bodies? Don't know. But - everyone gets equally. Paintings... Memories... I don't have the strength to sleep. In this horror of images. Photos. They are hung everywhere. Childhood. Relatives. All that - not now. And - not here. And it is no longer able to come to life. And - to help survive. I don't know what to do with them. In myself. And on the walls. They're waiting for me. Because there aren't any. Among them, I am the only one here. Forgotten by them as if by accident. Go in there for a minute, so as not to come out? In order not to return. How?
This world... He's always been like that. Why do I need it? Everything is a lie. Game. Empty texts. Wrong images. Writhing reality. Everything is wrong. Everything is not mine. And nobody's. I swear - out loud. To - pull away. No one will hear. But, even if it's not. Nonsense. All of them are the ones. Foreign speakers. What can they understand? Just the intonation. A tear. Shivering. No. I doubt that, too. Again. My Tongue is my salvation. Even if I'm decent. Spit. Nobody needs anyone. Not here. Not there. It helps. Overcome. Everything that has accumulated. It didn't come true. Dissipated. Forgotten. Damn paper. It conveys so negligibly little. And that is apparent. Where is the pain and suffering? Where are my feelings- now? She's white and that's it. Like my consciousness in this night. What's wrong with her? Laughing, blackening, she suddenly stopped. And I, frozen, can't walk for half an hour in it. The spasm of time. Languishing of space. And - yourself. Where is the promised infinity? Where is the non-disappearance? Only ever-spicy frailties: everyday life, idleness, vices, roles. What to write? To whom? What for? Who will read it? Except me. And then - only at the moment of creation. What is written is alienated from me. Right there. The lines are real - not mine anymore. They belong to my non-Self. Which is not here. But where? What happens when you're not in you? It's so difficult. The whole world belongs to you. In response, a refusal. Why do I need it all? An illusion... Let it be a quantum. But- mine. Untouchable. For them. For him. For me. For cardboard skyscrapers out of nothing. Cooling everything. And cooling down. Around - a suffocating mixture. Out of love and hate. Sincerity and a sincere performance. How to understand what is where? How to crystallize something that can keep it from falling. An impenetrable wall. What to say in it if it reflects everything, distorting? No, I don't put my hands together. I'm squeezing them. To the crunch. To the point of complete numbness. To the truth. This is different. Maybe - and the opposite.
Outside the window is opaque - a rainy wind... It's already day or night - there's no one to ask. And - crushes everything. And - no time…
The double helix of the past
We always regret the past. Then it should have been done, and that person should not have been abandoned. Why then start, if you still leave? At first it seems — everything is forever. And then it turns out that life is much simpler. Although it seems more complicated. The main question, which is also regret: why and what were these years of our common life spent on? What was the meaning of our joint titanic work on writing scientific articles, coming up with new ideas? Was this goal correct: defending your dissertation? Is this the meaning of family life? Was it in vain? The answer is not the one you like. No, it wouldn't have been for nothing if we'd stayed together. Life is contradictory. Gives one while taking the other at the same time. Our life was an interweaving of love and science, sex and striving forward to the unknown, creativity and just human friendship. I tried to build our double spiral of relationships — a small codon every day. It was a real harmony in many ways. In response — only quarrels, complexations, assaults and claims. Only the hell of life — returned to me in full.
Of course, everyone has nerves. But also stupidity, unfortunately. Did you hope that after receiving your dissertation, immediately slamming the door and destroying in a minute what had been built for years, sleepless nights, you would leave everything ready and untouched for yourself? No. You have lost not only me, not only the future of our common scientific theory, you have lost the very meaning of your life, its future.
You didn't just leave me. You also left yourself—the real one. By throwing me away, you also threw away all these years, all your youth, which only mattered to me. And you know it. It is clear that together we would continue to move forward and fill our lives with the infinite. We would write books together, invent theories, travel to conferences and many cities of the world together, united by love and friendship, co-authorship and co-creation. I would continue to elevate you in front of everyone and in every sense, sometimes excessively, you know that. And you thought it would always be like this.
Everything turned out the other way around. I was able to recover from this blow on many painful points. In science, I have many directions, not only ours, in life there are many friends all over the world, many meanings, so as not to lose myself, so as not to regret that I was with you, that I invested so much in you that you threw it all away without a moment's reflection. To give oneself-just to a woman — is to be free from her. You didn't take that into account. And in vain. I didn't want to write in person. Not out of revenge, no. Because of the emptiness...
Each of the readers takes away a piece of the pain of betrayal. By myself, without them, it's harder to calm her down. These few lines are the answer to many years of resentment and humiliation. That's right, I'm not writing to you, but to them. Nothing. Not for the first time. Betrayals — give stability. I'm ready for the follow-up. It's not scary. Used to… Everything in life is just repeating itself. But life itself is not...
Time
Time. Attempts to deceive yourself. Fill it just with something. Not by looking into yourself. There - not very much. Communication is wasted. With an empty one. Empty. One. By myself. But in the obligatory presence. Vacuum. Around. In myself.
I'm fighting where to get it. But why? So what? Well, that's enough of it. The whole day. So what? What's inside? Where is the movement of yourself? Where am I? Where is my "I"? Torture Is Nothing.
Life is boiling outside the window. Pseudo-life. They are also trying to destroy it. Without feeling. It's like hundreds of cases. Read everything. What for? Feel everything. For what? So as not to know its inexorable rhythm. Hope for not now. Like a straw dragging to the bottom. And there is no turning back. While you're hoping.
-------------------------
© Copyright: Steven Duplij, 2023
Dmitry Kovrigin
THE RUSSIAN NATIONAL IDEA
1. Russians are all residents of Russia who consider it their homeland and wish it prosperity.
2. All Russians deserve the best that the country can give.
Better health, education, space for development and implementation of plans...
RUSSIANS - IT SOUNDS PROUD!
3. Justice must be observed in any kind of state structure. Any person should be evaluated only by virtue of personal qualities.
That, in short, is all.
* * *
The rest can only be developed and refined indefinite!
But if a person is able to think, he will easily think out the details, develop mechanisms, clarify, supplement... Is it possible to see these positions differently? Hardly.
For example, "Russians deserve the best" means that it is not necessary to export resources so that someone has an excess of foreign money, and Russians eat its dangerous plastic analogue instead of red caviar...
that they should not be allowed to kill, rob, rob, turn their fellow citizens into fags and drug addicts.
There are a lot of really useful and interesting things in life, so why choose the worst?
That the further spread of our country's colonial dependence and the shameless exploitation of its natural and human resources should not be allowed.
The exchange of something with foreigners should be made only if you need to get something really necessary from them. Not within the framework of an idea, but ideologically it is necessary to inspire - you are a Russian - it means the best.
(And, by the way, you should not crawl onto the Olympic stage with a ring in your nose and without a flag, no matter how much you would like it. and. Once such "rules" - there is no longer any Olympics, only faggot races. And as for doping, let it be a personal matter for everyone. Or - a matter of Honor. If a Russian Athlete said that he does not take doping, it means that it is so! And let all these dirty urinophiles with test tubes keep an eye on amerykashkami and other "c-civilized" ...)
Order is needed for a comfortable stay.
There will be no real order without mutual respect.
That's why: - We are the best!
We are honest and fair...
The rest is "civilized".... let him live as he wants.
Vladivostok
13-16.12.22.
Responses to reviews:
Vyacheslav Bezuglov:
So this is the IDEA.
What they strive for.
And you already offer specific ways of implementation....
*. *. *
Platonov Alexander Mikhailovich:
If Lenin had thought more about the welfare of the peoples of Russia, he would not have allowed the "national" division of the territory, which was also very conditional - Russian territories were stuffed into Ukraine, for example, it would have been better to leave the provincial structure. For all Russians - one big country. I don't specifically say "Russian", mind you.
________________
We don't owe anyone anything. Neither to give, nor to prove. We should not dance in front of "foreign guests". We should not give them the best hotels. They should not supply raw materials on demand. According to THEIR needs. At prices set on their own exchanges. Pay in their papers.
We are the best, and we need the best in the first place. The rest is for "investors", or "for export", as they used to say!
No, really, what have they done to us that we dance in front of them, and we put the best girls, and we drive raw materials for a song!?
Are they the highest race?
And how is this proved?
Is it really an international robbery?
So: RUSSIANS DESERVE ALL THE BEST!
- the best products that should be produced in Russia
- a better attitude on the part of our own authorities
- better remuneration for work
- the best untouched nature
- the best houses .......
And for foreigners - what remains.
And why?
Yes, because WE ARE THE BEST!
All the peoples inhabiting Russia, who have passed so many trials together, who have preserved their identity...
Glory to us. Everyone!
And - we have lived to the times of abundance. We have the right......
But stupidly consume, like some, we will not.
We have the highest culture.
Where to us fat Europeans and swaggering amerykashkam!
Larisa Mironova wrote:
That's right!!!
Dima, there is no request for a deep mind today.
All this may appear tomorrow.
But! Dima! Let's divide - their authorities and their European people. It's not the same thing. Their peoples have been taught for five centuries to be silent in a rag and not to stick out. Went to the polls, and sleep well. Do what you want with yourself, but don't get into serious questions for adult uncles. The world is run by corporations, they have long ceased to be national, that's where the root of evil is. And not foreigners as such. Of course, we should not grovel before anyone, but we will not roll a barrel on ordinary people of Europe, they, for the most part, are neither good nor bad, but the same as everywhere else - ordinary disenfranchised people. And more: I don't really like this word – Russians, it means scattering, diaspora, but the word – Russians is a collective concept, a council of all peoples belonging to the idea of conciliarity. So. Russians are us, the multiethnic people of Russia (that's right – Russia.)
Dima Kovrigin:
I answer, Larisa, in no way do I want to belittle ordinary foreigners, foreigners, I understand that all people are different, each person is unique...
But it's not worth paying too much attention to them, much less worshiping them. I have written repeatedly about the harm and danger of corporations. Moreover, I believe in the existence of a "world government", and even that it is led by the evil one himself....
Larisa Mironova replies:
We'll talk about this next time.
---------------------------
Fedya and the Dog
are a sample of degenerate prose?
Fedya did not like the Great Dane.
The dog understood everything and did not like Fedya.
Both were aware of this "dislike". There was a kind of connection between them.
Day by day, the connection was strengthened.
* * *
Fedya was paranoid. He always carried a knife with him everywhere. Such a scary one – with a blade popping out. However, this seemed insufficient to Fedya. Still in stock were: an awl on a wooden handle, a stationery cutter with a super-sharp blade and a "sink" - an ordinary blade.
* * *
The Great Dane also did not suffer from humanity. He was constantly chewing something, training his jaws. Coaching and presenting… I especially liked strong leather shoes – they didn't run out so quickly.
* * *
The Great Dane was well-fed and "bourgeois". But most of all Fedya didn't like his balls. This dangling, almost human scrotum is lilac –purple in color. Like yesterday's wedding balls, she "decorated" the arch of crooked dog legs.
Fyodor imagined grabbing her with his firm left hand. A terrible knife, or better – a cutter, is clamped in the right.
CHICK!!!
Fedya also didn't like his thick, bubbling, bad-smelling excrement in the spring. The Great Dane ate expensive special food, ate well and laid them in abundance… But the eggs, for some reason, irritated more…
* * *
The dog did not like Fedya entirely. Almost entirely. For excessive sweating. For sharp, unpleasant odors. For the heaviness of the gait…
The dog only liked his ass in Fed. Dense and strong. Locking it in the trap of your teeth, you can squeeze your jaws until exhaustion. To the highest point of pleasure… However, it was not only Fedia who liked the dog's ass…
* * *
Sometimes Fedya had dreams. The Great Dane clings to the appetizing ass of a cute neighbor. He's already tearing off his jeans... and then he appears, Fedya! It is not necessary to describe further. You're not going to study to be a butcher! On the knacker…
Such dreams ended monotonously:
Bloody, but almost unharmed Fedya, gutted by all the rules of the Great Dane, consenting to everything Saved… No panties, and, of course, no jeans.
* * *
Reality is much more prosaic.
The great Dane, to the delight of the whole house, once got hit by a car. Probably - I wanted to try "wheels". Fedor got drunk with grief and committed an armed brawl.
The cutie walked around confused for a long time, not feeling the usual pressure of a couple of lustful glances on her ass…
September 2, 2006 – March 20, 2007
PEOPLE AND A SUNNY CAT
About the cat who taught people to love cats as a class
Actually, he was called a Sunny Cat later – when he was well-fed and cleanly licked, he lay comfortably on the windowsill, adsorbing, it seemed, all the sun rays that pierced the kitchen window after dinner. The energy swirled around him, saturating the shiny, black fur and radiated through huge, round, bright yellow eyes without any hint of slits in the pupils.
And whether for these sunny eyes, or for the love of basking in the rays of the sun, or for his super-good-natured and cheerful disposition, he received this nickname, one of the main ones in a number of many that people from time to time assigned to him, forgetting about the original name, invented by them …
When he first appeared in the house, he was a pathetic sight - something wet, with matted fur, on long crooked legs, poking its curious muzzle wherever it got. At the same time, he had no fear and often got under his feet. People performed fantastic pirouettes, trying not to step on a fragile lump of life, spilled their coffee and tea, dropped things…
They were annoyed, some even stamped on him with their feet. But not for long – the animal was not scared, but simply pulled out a curious muzzle to see, and maybe smell the source of the "scary" sounds. From such a non - malicious behavior of his, they quickly calmed down and only reprimanded:
"Oh, how stupid you are!"
That's how the cat got his first informal nickname – Stupid. A certain Cheglyunin then transformed it into an affectionate "Nezmyshlyuzhechka" and called the kitten that way, stroking it with his small hand from head to tail. Another nickname was born from the "Ignorant" – "Jackal". It seemed, well, where is the connection here, and the connection is very close – on the very surface: somehow Cheglunin heard his Uncle humming an old song about "some kind of stupid little falcon". (Actually, the song was about a crane, but my Uncle sometimes liked to hum it, inserting the names of young birds of various birds, more often for some reason the falcon family).
The familiar word "stupid" caused the child to have direct associations with the cat, and he fell in love to gently hum this theme in the cat's ear. However, the soft and good-natured animal in the child's mind did not connect with the creepy bird of prey in any way, and the sharp "s" was slowly reduced to a soft "Sh".
And this is not the limit of perfection: somehow the Mother, hurrying with a mug of hot tea to the TV, stumbled into the animal in the dark corridor and pretty much doused herself. Well, she poured and poured, it's her own fault – you have to look at your feet. But it's also necessary to scold someone: "Oh, your stupid bastard!" she yelled.
Everything my Mother said with the expression Cheglyunin assimilated perfectly. However, emotions were often strangely altered. So the cat got another nickname – "Bastard". It was funny to look at the little man stroking the cat and saying with his lips stretched out: "oh, your jackal, you bastard, you silly...". The animal bristled its antennae and stretched its muzzle towards him. The uncle, having a dislike for cats on the basis of allergies, at first did not call the animal in any way and did not recognize the person behind it. Then he called him simply – "Kitten", and sometimes ironically - "Katuenok". Cheglyunin, usually sensitive to his uncle's initiatives, stubbornly ignored these nicknames. However, the object of constant renaming responded to all the nicknames, realizing with an amazing sixth sense that it was his name, but gradually the charming animal became friends with his Uncle. How?
2.
Yes, it's very simple - I sat in the kitchen when my Uncle was eating, and did not beg for food, but just looked attentively with my yellow magnetic eyes. Well, how can you not give him a small piece of your favorite sausage, see how he eats it appetiingly, listen to how gratefully he purrs…
He purred melodically and loudly since childhood, causing a pleasant feeling of spiritual comfort with these harmonious sounds.
So, my uncle often ate alone, but he liked to talk. And having treated the interlocutor, he turned his intricate tirades to him. In decent society, the interlocutor is usually called by name. To begin with, my Uncle borrowed a nickname from Cheglyunin's repertoire – "Jackal". But somehow it's not serious to call your pleasant interlocutor by such a dubious name. So my Uncle joined in the fascinating business of naming cats. To begin with, "Jackal" became "Kashalyuzhechka", then – "Kashulenka", later – "Kashulechka". Gradually, the cat grew in size and acquired some form.
Then it became clear that the beast would be beautiful: thin curved legs gradually grew fat, the fur was fluffy.... At that time there was a cold evil winter in the City, one of the terrible winters of the last century, when there was no heating, then hot water, then plenty of food, then everything at once ... however, to say "there was no heating" was some exaggeration. There was just enough heat in the batteries to keep the pipes from bursting.
It was cold in the house. And the resourceful animal found its "ecological niche" - under a wide wooden window sill on a large cast-iron radiator. Moreover, this niche was quite narrow, and the cat stretched out to its full height, as if someone was pulling it in different directions by its front and hind legs. So he could lie for hours.
He only got out to check the bowl, or when someone called him for a long time and persistently. The process of getting out looked comical – a long wavy sausage literally fell to the floor and began to stretch – straighten. At the same time, the cat resembled a closed accordion. Hence another of his nicknames – "Accordion ".
Apparently, from this "material" nickname, he later acquired another one – "Casket" - for the habit of lying among various baubles on the dressing table in the pose of a sphinx, carefully picking up his paws. As Cheglyunin used to say, "The box thinks comfort." Indeed, he looked very cozy and seemed to be thinking about something all the time. Why did it "seem"? The cat's favorite activity, when he was full, healthy and not overpowered by the calls of nature, was just thinking. Yes, the cat spent most of his free time THINKING. Who will at least partially tell us what cats are thinking about …
On a nice sunny day, when the bed was made up exactly with a beautiful fluffy blanket, the cat liked to think there. It was touching how he was able to choose his location – not along, not across, but somehow at an angle, which gave the made-up bed a finished and very picturesque look. Moreover, on different days the bed was made somewhat differently, and in accordance with this, the position of our thinker also changed. For this, some nicknamed him "Designer", but the nickname did not stick – it contained too many sharp corners.
Somehow it seemed to my Uncle that a cat sitting on his shoulder was good and witty.
3.
And if he also jumps on his back himself – well, it's just cool. And my Uncle started training. He acted with sausage and a kind word. The animal turned out to be intelligent and quickly learned to jump on its back from different positions – from the floor, if the Uncle bent down on purpose, and from various objects, often already without an invitation. Moreover, I learned to jump, but I didn't want to sit on my shoulder in any way – after jumping, I immediately jumped to the floor and began to demand treats. And, in addition, for temporary fixation on the back, he used his strong sharp claws.
During his Kuklachev activity, my Uncle used an old sheepskin vest, which fixed a bad feature of the animal's behavior. When starting a project, especially a "social" one, it is necessary to think through everything to the end, try to imagine the consequences. Like most of us, my Uncle did not possess such a skill…
The cat liked jumping. Moreover, to jump not only on the Uncle. The first victim was a little Cheglyunin. One night, on the way to the toilet, he was knocked down and pretty scared. After that, he did not stop going to the toilet, but he began to turn on the light and carefully peer into the semi–darkness of the mezzanine to see if the eyes of a predator preparing to jump were sparkling with a mystical, eerie gleam there. For greater safety, the intimidated man also raised his hands or ran a dangerous segment, squeezing out all the possibilities.
In addition to Cheglyunin, the cat also began to terrorize women. Try to bend over to the trash can in the kitchen or open the bottom drawer of the dresser...
only Uncle had a fur vest. Complaints and reproaches of the weak in this apartment caused him only a slight sense of humor - he only hummed to himself "... and meanwhile the beast is terrible ...".
In those days, the cat was called nothing but a Terrible Beast. Cheglyunin, stroking the cat, said, "little beast, shakolyuzhechka, terrible, you're not going to jump on me, are you? A woman will buy me a machine gun, he shoots balls...". But when the Beast jumped on the guests, all the household was terribly happy, and Cheglunin explained: "but because he is so bouncy!".
The chain of associations continued to unwind. If the "beast", then what? Just "terrible"? - Well, no. In addition to the "terrible" habits, the cat has also acquired a regular coloring. On the front paws were neat, of the same size, white gloves, on the back – stockings. And on the neck – a characteristic triangular white tie. For whom is it characteristic? – And for the Himalayan bear, of course. And Cheglunin began to call him the "Himalayan Beast" or, more simply, the "Himalayan Cat". Uncle again brought to the point of absurdity – "Pan Himalayan". We all live in a world of inspired cretinism associations …
So the apartment's inhabitants lived in a complex and changing world, the center of which was everyone's favorite Sunny Cat. Inaudible, bastard, jackal, stringy, bouncy, tenuous, coughing and terrible… The cute kitten had many names, and I didn't tell you about all of them. But everything comes to an end, sometimes illogical and unexpected. But this, as they say, is a completely different story…
Completed on February 8, 2005.
____________
THERE IS A WAR GOING ON!!!!
AND IT WILL AFFECT EVERYONE.
REMEMBER THIS CONSTANTLY.
AND OUR ENEMY IS WORSE
THAN THE FASCISTS!!!!!
MAY GOD PUNISH THEM,
AND WE WILL HELP!!!!
Citizens are traitors, make no mistake:
you will also get the full.
February 24, 2022
* * *
One of my favorite quotes about life and Creativity:
"My list of villains is getting shorter every day as I get older, and the list of fools is getting fuller and more endless."
Schiller, "The Theater as a moral institution", 1784
*
Analyzing my activity on the Internet, I was thinking whether to add myself to my own "Schiller" list... However, I found such self-examination an empty occupation... let others say...
everyone has their own "Schiller list".
* * *
however - EVERYTHING WE WRITE –
IT WILL BE USED AGAINST US...
UKONTROPUP USA
A GAME OF AIRPLANES
Until the conventions are signed, the danger of "airplanes" - drones is not fully understood ...
IT's TIME TO MAKE DRONES!!!
A LOT OF DRONES, GOOD AND DIFFERENT ....
and launch them on the USA, Britain, Canada, Australia... On all those who for some reason decided to exterminate us quickly. Our resources do not give them rest.
And it is possible to defeat the vukrov only by ukontropup Yusu (USA).
Or to make them begin to bear direct losses from the war and consider the continuation not profitable at all....
No, if we have cowards and "clean-minded" at the top, then we can act with the hands of the "Texas Liberation Front", for example...
But it is necessary to act. It's about time. Exactly - against amerykashek. Primarily.
Of course, the main weapon is the dollar. The best minds should come up with a program to liberate the world from backs. And everyone who wants to live on, and live well, should unite around them, support, help... But without physical impact on the Anglo-sucking locust, it is no longer possible to do. It is necessary to think over and start implementing a program for the production of drones "more in number, at a cheaper price." The most primitive ones are balloons with bombs, mines, decommissioned shells... They need to be thrown into the upper atmosphere today.
In such a way that they reach the territory of Yusa (USA) and work where there is at least something that can be hit. To do this, you can use remote fuses and flight control from satellites. But it is possible at first without it. Just calculate the air flow and put, for example, clock fuses....
The next step is unobtrusive high-altitude gliders. Armed with planning bombs. Moreover, it is possible to make reusable and multipurpose gliders. Carry everything, anti-air defense missiles, bombs.... All at once, or depending on the task... Gliders with and without a motor.... Reactive... With a variety of engines, guidance systems, communications.... And constantly experience all this on a real opponent, and not on decoy vukras. And don't wait. They can start first. (They have already, in fact, started!!!)
The Amerykashki themselves opened this Pandora's box.... I'm not the only one who still doesn't understand why we don't respond in any way?
Vladivostok
08.01.2023
P.S. By the way, many winds blow from our territory. Why not also small flying mines, caustic aerosols .... Well, etc.... send them greetings!
Otherwise, the enemy will take away the nuclear baton, if we continue to sit stupidly and write tearful declarations to the UN...
Lunar eclipse (L. U. N. A.)
(dedicated to the lunar eclipse that I am observing now)
THAT FAT-CHEEKED MOON
STUPID AND FULL MOON....
- WHO BIT YOU ON THE CHEEK
From the lower left side?
It's a very full moon. White gold moon,
She covers herself with a shadow
Very, apparently, the cheek hurts. Stupid and fat cats!
You and the moon seem to be on "you"
Which one of you dared to bite her?
Come on, march, from the window!
And under the bed.... the pale, cold Moon
What is slightly visible under the "month"...
Or is it the ashes from the Moon?
Total eclipse of the country....
The moon was completely round
I watch the shadow from the window... ñold, cold...
It's like there's ice in my heart
The lunar Eclipse is coming...
Now Darkness has already come
And the moon only glows slightly
If you are covered by a Shadow ...
Åhen do not direct the "light" în the fence...
-----------------
© Copyright: Dmitry Kovrigin, 2023
Nikolay Leskov
THE GHOST OF Madame JANLIS
A SPIRITUAL CASE
Short
«The spirit is sometimes much
easier to summon than
to get rid of it».
From Calmet
Chapter One
The strange adventure I want to tell you about happened a few years ago, and now you can talk about it freely, especially since I consider it justified not to mention a single name.
In the winter of 186*, a very rich and famous family came to St. Petersburg, consisting of three people: the mother, an elderly lady who was a woman with an excellent education and had the best secular connections in Russia and abroad, her son, a young man who began his career in the diplomatic corps in the same year, and the daughter of this lady, who is barely seventeen years old.
The newly arrived family to this day usually lived abroad, where the late husband of the old Princess was a representative of Russia at one of the European courts.
The young gentlemen were born and raised in foreign countries, where they received an exclusively foreign, but very thorough education.
Chapter Two
The lady was a woman with very strict rules and deservedly enjoyed the most impeccable reputation in society. In her views and tastes, she followed the views and preferences of French women, famous for the spirit and talents of the heyday of women's spirit and talents in France. She was considered very well-read and was said to read with the greatest analysis. Her favorite reading was the letters of Madame Savignac, Lafayette and other famous authors, but she treated Madame Janlis with the greatest respect. small volumes of the beautifully designed Paris edition of this intelligent writer, modestly and elegantly bound in morocco-blue, always stood on a beautiful shelf suspended above her chair. it was a favorite place of the hostess. Above the mother-of-pearl inlay that completed the library, on a dark velvet cushion rested a miniature terracotta pen of perfect shape, which Voltaire kissed and who did not expect that it would bring down on him the first drop of subtle but caustic criticism. I do not know how many times the Princess reread the volumes written with this little pen, but they were always at hand, and she said that these books had a special, so to speak, mysterious meaning for her, about which she did not dare to tell anyone, because not everyone could believe it. According to her, it turned out that she had not parted with these volumes "since she could remember" and that they would remain with her in the grave.
"My son," she said, "received an order from me to put these books with me in the coffin, under the pillow for the coffin, and I am sure that they will be useful to me even after death.
I carefully wanted to get at least the most distant explanations about the last words - and I got them.
"These little books," said the princess, "are filled with the spirit of Felicitas (as she called me Janlis, probably as a sign of the shortest communication with her). Yes, if I firmly believe in the immortality of the human spirit, I also believe in its ability to freely pass under the tombstone together with those who need it and will appreciate such an act. I am sure that the subtle essence of Felicitas has chosen a wonderful place among the happy morocco covering the pages on which her thoughts rest, and if you are not completely an unbeliever, then I hope that this should be clear to you».
I bowed in silence. The Princess seemed pleased that I did not contradict her, and she added to me as a reward that everything she had just told me was not just a conviction, but a real and complete conviction, which has such a solid foundation that it cannot be shaken by any force.
"And that's because," she concluded, "I have a lot of evidence that the ghost of Felicitas lives and lives here!"
At the last word, the princess raised her hand above her head and pointed with an elegant finger to a two-tiered bookcase on which blue volumes stood.
CHAPTER THREE
I am naturally a bit superstitious and always enjoy listening to stories in which there is at least some place for the mysterious. For this, it seems, far-sighted critics, who willingly ranked me in various bad categories, at one time said that I was a spiritualist. Moreover, by the way, everything we are talking about now happened just at the time when news about spiritualistic phenomena came to us in abundance from abroad. Then they aroused curiosity, and I saw no reason not to be interested in what people were already beginning to believe.
The "many proofs" mentioned by the princess could be heard from her many times: these proofs consisted in the fact that the princess had long been in the habit of referring to the works of Madame Jangles as an oracle at moments of the most diverse emotional moods, and the blue volumes, in turn, showed the invariable ability to intelligently respond to her mental questions. This, according to the princess, became a custom (that is, it became a habit), which she never changed, and the "spirit" inhabiting the books never said anything inappropriate to her.
I saw that I was dealing with a very convinced follower of spiritualism, who, moreover, was not deprived of intelligence, experience and education, and therefore became extremely interested in all this. I already knew something about the nature of spirits, and in what I witnessed, I was always struck by one oddity common to all spirits - when they appear from the grave, they behave much more frivolously and, frankly, stupider than they usually manifested themselves in earthly life.
I already knew the theory of Kardek's "playing spirits" and was now extremely interested: How would he honor me with showing me the spirit of the spiritual Marchioness Soulieri, Countess of Brookley. The case did not slow down to appear, but in a small garden, as well as on a small farm, there is no need to spoil the order, so I ask for another minute of patience before a supernatural moment comes that can exceed all expectations.
CHAPTER FOUR
The people who made up the small but very select circle of the princess probably knew about her quirks; but since they were all polite and well-mannered people, they also knew how to respect the beliefs of others, even if these beliefs strongly contrasted with their own, and they could not resist criticism. Therefore, no one has ever discussed this phenomenon with the princess. However, perhaps the friends of the princess were not sure that they considered her blue volumes to be the abode of the "mind" of their author in a direct and immediate sense, but they perceived these words as a kind of figure of speech. Finally, everything could have been even simpler, which means that they took everything for a joke. Unfortunately, the only one who could not see it that way was me; and I had my reasons, the root of which, perhaps, was the credulity and impressionability of my nature.
Larisa MIRONOVA
Map of military operations fighting in Donbass 2014
October 23, 2014
What was the fate of the commanders of the rebellious units of the National Guard arrested in Kiev, who, against their will and in violation of the contract, continued to be held in the so-called ATO zone?
Neither Ukrainian (which is understandable) nor Russian (which is also now understandable) talk about this The media, because, thus, the blissful picture of the seizure of power in Ukraine by carnival "neo-Nazis" is collapsing. Meanwhile, în Ukraine, oligarchs have seized power based on crime. The external manifestations of these regimes are similar, but still these are two big differences, as they would say in Odessa.
Enlightened people in the uniform of the National Guard came out last week to a rally in front of the Rada with slogans:
PEACE TO THE WORLD, TO THE SOLDIER – DEMBEL!
Everyone should welcome such an initiative. I propose to start an indefinite campaign of support for soldiers and officers of the National Guard of Ukraine who refuse to fight in the Donbas. And those who will pursue them should be subjected to merciless lustration.
Poroshenko proposed a compromise:
rebellious fighters will be released from service in the National Guard if they voluntarily transfer to contract service in combat battalions. There is no difference - what's on the forehead, what's on the forehead, anyway, these people will be ordered to die for the military profits of the oligarchs, because in the fading economy of Ukraine, military spending specifically remains the shock sector - the West is now giving loans in the form of humanitarian aid precisely and only for the war.
***
September 30, 2014
Donetsk airport is a slaughterhouse, where Ukrainians are regularly sent to die, they are not needed by the future colony of the West, Ukrainian women will be attached to an escort service or a nanny-cleaner.
There is no work in the beloved homeland, exept war. They promise to pay something there. But this is a lie, Ukrainians are being sent to the war specifically to die. Donetsk airport is a mousetrap, from which you can only come out on the side of the militia, and they this must be done, otherwise - a vile death and poverty in the future for thousand families. No one will take care of the family of the deceased in the war, as they do not take care of those who survived the battle, but were injured.
Dear ukraines, good and wonderful, remember about your families - you are needed at home, alive and well, and to die under the wreckage of the airport in Donetsk is not a feat, it is cowardice, because there will be no benefit for Ukraine from this. There will be only sadness - for everyone.
Today is a big Orthodox holiday - Faith, Hope, Love and their mother, Sophia (Wisdom).
We don't want you to die today, but this will happen because the population of Donetsk should no longer die from shells that fly from the airport to residential areas. And the children of Donetsk should go to school too in peace.
***
The ATO (American terrorist operation)
is falling apart – Ukrainian soldiers refuse to go to the front line. The confrontation between the parties – Novorossiya - and the Ukrainian troops sent by the Kiev authorities to fight against their own citizens is growing. The terms of the "truce" remain virtually formal for Kiev, it has not stopped hostilities since September 5, however, they bind the militia and make it impossible to regroup the Armed Forces to much more advantageous and fortified positions.
Here is a brief summary of the fighting.
<iframe width="425" height="325" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/vRm4ChdfRxw" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Mariupol:
A column of Ukrainian heavy equipment tried to break through the territory occupied by the militia near Mariupol. The army of Novorossiya was forced to respond to such a demonstrative disregard for the terms of the truce.
The column was destroyed:
these are 14 tanks, 4 T-64 tanks, two armored vehicles and over ten supply vehicles.
DPR:
the commander of the Motorola militia with his unit, with the participation of other parts of the Novorossiya army, liquidated a column of Ukrainian equipment that was rushing from Ilovaysk. After that, the army of Novorossiya occupied the city of Komsomolskoye, and the DPR flag appeared on the city hall building above the city.
DPR:
the army of Novorossiya received a military trophy in the battles at Telmanovo.
These are 9 armored vehicles of the Canadian design produced by Cougar. They are produced on KRAZ. According to the experts of the DPR, the armor should be strengthened: it was decided to sheathe the vehicles with additional armor plates, and place bulletproof vests between them, which were also received as a military trophy. The cars will be placed at the disposal of the DRG (sabotage reconnaissance group) of Novorossiya.
The ATO, thus, is falling apart: the 14th volunteer battalion of the Cherkasy Territorial Defense, with the exception of several officers, decided to leave the ATO zone: 450 volunteer fighters filed a report addressed to Battalion Commander Radchenko.
However, the militia reasonably note that these fighters, if they are less than 25 years old, may well fall under the begun conscription into the regular army of Ukraine. So it's more expensive for them to let them go. Let them rest from the war for now.
DNR: Donetsk airport does not give rest to the Ukrainian military: another attempt to break through to it in the area of the settlement of Tonenkoye has been stopped. The militia had to stop them with "Grads": artillery fire was conducted on the airfield itself, on the fortifications near the Sands, Avdiivka. In the old building of the airport, terry Svidomites and Polish mercenaries are sitting. To pity them or not to pity them? The answer is obvious. They are shooting at the city, killing civilians for many days in a row.
LNR:
Here the ukras are hitting the temple exactly. 4 times shells fell near the St. Nicholas Church (stan. Lugansk). There are practically no windows left in the temple, the cladding, walls, buildings, territories are not cut and damaged by fragments.
"Eastern syndrome" is how specialized specialists begin to call the damage to the psyche associated with the stay of soldiers in the ATO zone. More and more fighters who have seen with their own eyes what is happening in the east of Ukraine need psychiatric help. One example. A fighter of the Airborne Forces of Ukraine, a simple lad from under Rivne, according to the testimony of his relatives, this war, an experienced soldier, knocked him down. For the first time I fought not for the service, but "for the idea". However, he returned from the ATO zone even more aggressive than before. Strangers annoy him most of all. Once he confessed to his wife, who was worried about his condition: "I hear them, these breaks, in a dream, I wake up from this. And how to forget… We were riding in an APC, talking to Tolik, a second later a shell hit us, we scattered around, I turn around – Tolik is still talking, but he no longer has legs." Those who were lucky and relatives, got down to business on time, hope to return to normal life. One mother placed her son in a special clinic – a young man after the ATO began to engage in masochism – cutting, beating himself, scratching: he hated himself for the fact that he, while still unmarried, survived one of the entire crew of the car, and the family men all died... And there are hundreds of such stories.
Map of the fighting in the Donbas on September 12, 2014
The old Donetsk airport building can be connected by tunnels and underground communications to the underground communications of Spartak, as well as the Metro store, and there should be a tunnel directly from the airport to the SBU building, which, in turn, is connected by a tunnel to the regional administration building. According to these ways, the Ukrainian Svidomites, who are in the old building of Donetsk airport, most likely keep in touch with the outside world. From here, sorties and sabotage against Donetsk can occur.
There may be other tunnels dug from the airport to the territory of Donetsk (as the Palestinians do, breaking through tunnels under the fence deep into the territory of Israel), or beyond it - beyond the encirclement ring. This all needs to be checked urgently.
14.09.2014 14:00
Zakharchenko is quite in his place. There can be no question of any return of Strelkov to Donbass - one of his goals of staying in the militia was to create conditions for training punitive battalions. Now he is being actively promoted in Moscow as a candidate for political office. I don't think this is true - he, with his doctrine of private mercenary armies, is needed not by our country or Donbass, but in corporate wars among themselves, and on Ukraine, from his point of view, the first successful training of this format took place.
The militia was thrown to the dill and Svidomites as targets, but after Streokov's departure, the militia returned to the real army of Novorossiya and liberated almost the entire territory occupied by Strelkov in a week. So, Zakharchenko stays, Strelkov is resting. Or writing a memoir.
15.09.2014 20:28
The story of the Donetsk airport requires investigation in the most thorough way - who and why did not allow the militia to take control of the airport is more or less clear (this situation served as a cover for the shelling of Donetsk by Ukrainians from mobile artillery installations taking a distance of 40 km), this piggishness was obviously agreed upon in a face-to-face conversation between the two presidents. But one such piggishness is inherent by nature, but the second one committed real villainy.
Now it seems that everything in the airport area is controlled by the militia, but in the depths of the old terminal there are still National Guard soldiers, including hired Poles. There is an exit through underground passages - through Spartak to the SBU building, then to the Donetsk regional administration building. They will meet you there as expected. Nevertheless, the shelling of Donetsk continues. So, it is necessary to drive the Ukrs far beyond 40 km from the border of Donbass, this should be done by Belarusian peacekeepers.
03.10.2014 14:05
The militia announced yesterday the final capture of Donetsk airport. However, the military department of the Donetsk People's Republic reported on attempts by the Ukrainian military last night to throw sabotage groups into the airport area, of course, they were stopped by the militia, the DPR authorities said. And now we need to quickly scatter the enemy gang outside and put guards on the border so that enemy creatures don't take another step on the land of Donbass. And do not listen to nonsense about the urgent need to "stop the bloodshed" imposed by the Putinoids, they will all soon leave politics, and the free Donbass will remain. A truce in the middle of a war is always pregnant with increasing violence, this is tomorrow's new war. Stop watering the coal of Donbass with Russian blood. This dirty war must be ended with a complete victory as soon as possible, otherwise, with the help of fake truces, the bastard juntyara will continue to zombify the population of Ukraine for a long time and send plague-stricken Ukrainians to the Donetsk massacre.
17.01.2015 16:14
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XOqUBSlT5Sg#action=share
The bloodshed in the Donbas and the suffering of the Ukrainian people, who have been turned into cannon fodder by a Fat Pig and an EggsNyuh, will stop only when Kiev is taken under full control of the militia.
19.01.2015 16:22
Provocative shelling of the residential sector by the Ukrainian army began in Mariupol today - the goal is simple: to blame all this outrage on the militia. And here it is impossible to do without the help of the residents of Mariupol themselves. If you sit at home and wait for how it will end, then the Ukrainian soldiers will put a lot of peaceful people. It is necessary to organize control inside Mariupol so that there are no provocative attacks or (and) immediately record those - from where and who fired. After all, in order to investigate the fact of shelling of civilians in Mariupol by Ukrainian units that are located there, factual material will be needed. The more actively, in this sense, the residents of Mariupol will behave, the less trouble the yellow-blakite would-be warriors will have time to do there. Freedom is close, hold on, dear friends!
© Copyright: Larisa Mironova, 2014
Certificate of publication No. 214091201399
The will to live
Story our life
"This guy became a surgeon only
ecause he didn't pass the Gestapo competition..."
A colleague, an anesthesiologist who worked with him in the operating room of a children's hospital, said about my daughter's husband.
bref
1.
When my daughter said in the middle of a normal conversation that she would leave her husband, I bitterly fell silent and could not utter a word for a long time. Conflict out of the blue, as it most often seems, is created due to the fact that young spouses do not know their true capabilities and goals for the time being, and, of course, lack of sufficient experience is also not the last reason. The outside world is in no hurry to open its arms and meet the young, you should always look for a way out yourself. Hence the inevitable bumps on the delicate brow of the newlyweds. And this will continue until proper immunity is developed. Initially, the kind and naive fall into the cycle of the cruelties of life, gradually become hardened and gain a vital grip that will allow them to withstand everything in the future and walk their way with dignity. This is the theory of independent living, but practice gives a completely different picture. The chosen path suddenly ends with a false goal. Various unpleasant thoughts may come to mind here, including thoughts about the possibility of death as a way out. The first test is the ability of forgiveness. He offended me. Should the offender be left unpunished? And if generosity is perceived as weakness? But doubts are becoming more and more overwhelming - and you no longer believe in justice, or pretend that he is right and recognize his victory? The feeling of deep disharmony of the world now does not leave the young soul, hence the gloom and distrust of others. Where the heart expected kindness and justice, lies and hypocrisy are revealed. But, despite the discord in the family, the soul resists sad conclusions, it is still the best place in the world, where it is warm and cozy, where cruel reality will not overtake you. But the interlude does not last long, the clouds continue to thicken, and now thunder is thundering and a thunderstorm is raging. Changes happen every day, today is not the same as yesterday, the heart is troubled by vague forebodings, the meaning of which is not quite clear yet. But anxiety, and sometimes fever are already frequent guests. Dark instincts begin to swarm inside, and this does not bode well. Some elusive image begins to appear in the soul. It is not known who he is or where to look for him, but the feeling that this is the one who is needed right now is getting stronger day by day. But how to disappear from the cozy, habitable world? How to turn into something disembodied, and then suddenly be reborn and start everything from scratch? And then suddenly you see that there is no protest at all in your soul, you only notice with a detached look what is happening around you, secretly absorb the disastrous experience. But now, little by little, bad forebodings begin to come true. And the imagination, inflamed by this feeling, is already painting pictures of new happiness, it is not yet possible to decide to break with the past. Some inexplicable sadness about this already unloved past, it turns out, still warms the heart. And even hostile memories can't do anything about it. Sometimes, in an unexpected way, it is possible only for a brief moment to regain the former sincerity and joy, the one that has almost lost its true nature, but soon everything returns to normal again. The horrors of all wars are nothing compared to the concrete nightmare of loss. Just so that this does not happen, everything else can be experienced! The main thing is not to let longing take over your soul, not to let callousness get the better of you. You have to respect the past too much to be able to create happiness on the ashes again. The kingdom of reason is the best of empires, reason will overcome evil will without problems, it cannot be put under the yoke, but on one condition, and this condition is a faithful heart. Indignant at himself for indecision, the inflamed brain is looking for a reasonable way out of a delicate situation. To withdraw into oneself, to engage in science or creativity, to look at oneself from the outside, not in the real, but in a partially fictional world is also a path, but it is even more dangerous, there is no way back from it. There you can either win, or be overthrown and buried under the bulk of your own unwillingness. There is already a certain deadness in everything, causing vague horror in the soul...
So, Lada loved Andrey, it was the first, true love, and it began in the first year, when they became students of the first honey. On the day of his coming of age, Andrey proposed to Lada, she turned eighteen six months ago. It was the first wedding on the course. They lived with their parents, in a Brezhnev five-storey building on the first floor, Andrei had his own room. Not far from their house is Kuskovo Park, and charming smells came from there in the spring. In short, everything was going as well as possible. One day, a month before the army, it was in the middle of May, extremely hot and sultry, at night, without saying a word, Andrei got up and quietly left. The door creaked pitifully.
Lada thought that he got hot, and he went to smoke. After waiting for about ten minutes, she fell asleep unnoticed. I woke up from the slam of the door in the hallway, then the lock clicked, and a dark silhouette appeared on the threshold of the room – Andrey had a huge bouquet of lilacs in his hands. He breathed joy and happiness. Lada held out her hands, but he said that she had to get out of bed or at least sit down. She obeyed. And then only he handed her a lilac armful. She tilted her face to the flowers and saw that something was moving inside. Out of surprise, she threw the bouquet on the floor – a small gray hedgehog snorted angrily among the lilac branches. However, the saucer of milk soon calmed him down. Then there was the army and the birth of the first child. Three days of dating in the guest room of the military unit became a new happiness for them. Andrey looked at the photo of his daughter, and his face became like a baked apple. However, he refused to take a leave of absence about the birth of a child – then it will be difficult to return to the unit. He served for a year, and just then a decree was issued giving relief for students. And again there was happiness, the young now lived in their own apartment, the grandmothers made room, and as a result of the triple exchange, the grandchildren had their own housing. And so everything went on until that time, which is called the crisis. The crisis was also outside, which, of course, did not cause a quarrel – both worked quite successfully, and their child was already a student. A real crisis has matured inside, although it seemed, for me personally, brought from the outside. There were no visible reasons for divorce and leaving the family. There were some annoying little things, skirmishes, but, on reasonable reflection, this would not be a reason even for a temporary break. However, this is a view from the outside, it only seemed so to me. And yet Lada decided to leave, perhaps she was already living a new life in her soul... The vague feeling that has arisen in the soul, like an elemental force, makes its way in one of two ways: either violently, or with an exquisite cunning inherent in nature itself (for this is nature itself, a product of the unconscious, often in spite of man), and generates vague thoughts, the meaning of which does not manifest itself immediately, and then only in some symbols. Having lost the integrity of perception, our contemporary, accustomed to thinking purely rationally and logically, is no longer able to make out. However, it was the worst thing she could have done then. Falling in love with your own feelings is a dangerous thing.
The brief moment of liberation from the imperfect past, which held down the flight of the spirit, ended unexpectedly quickly - after the euphoria came emptiness, and now it has become all-encompassing, such that the stars begin to crumble... And instead of stars, disgusting slimy worms of darkness were now swarming everywhere. She did not immediately show me the culprit of this stupid, from my point of view, act. He was also a doctor, a surgeon, worked in the same clinic as Lada, his name was Oleg. Outwardly, he looked quite respectable, although, as it turned out later, he crushed the innocence of young interns more than once without any regret, and not always only in unbridled dreams - perhaps a dark agreement had been established between his body and soul on this score for a long time. He was a rather large man, blue-eyed blond, Tatar by father, Hungarian by mother, Russian by one grandfather, by another... In general, the pedigree is motley, confusing, but one consolation was that they did not plan children. And what kind of children, if Oleg has a one-year-old child from his first ex-wife, and his second pregnant wife kicked him out of the house, according to him, what was he wearing. So there was nowhere to live, Lada had only a salary, and even a student daughter had to be helped, and Oleg had alimony for a newborn He paused for a moment, and a wild feeling of pity came over him He paused for a moment, and a wild feeling of pity came over him and the payment of the loan for the apartment, which was bought for Oleg's now ex-young wife. I tearfully asked Lada not to commit rash acts, to wait a year or two until at least some clarity appears. He may be a good person, although he never greeted anyone in return, only nodded his head. However, both of them – Lada and Oleg - are not children anymore, the tail of the past will certainly drag on all the subsequent time. But Lada doesn't seem to care about anything. I've come to terms with it over time, maybe it's all for the best. Lada seemed happy. And there was something – Oleg actively courted her, constantly took her to his friends for the weekend, Lada did not tell me the details of their life, but for some reason it seemed to me that they went for the weekend to the bachelor company of Oleg's colleagues, also doctors. Such a picture was drawn by itself in my head, I did not ask unnecessary questions, and Lada was in no hurry to report the details of the stay. It was easy for me to imagine how they were sitting there late, slightly "under shofe", of course, on a Saturday evening, freely discussing any topic without transition, and it seemed pleasant to me even, someone can talk to a cat or a dog, and this will also be normal.
Meetings with other people, however, are unpleasantly surprising if you have heard a lot about them before. They often turn out to be completely different. When I noticed how easily Oleg was offended, I realized that he was vain, which alerted me. Yes, that was the case - it looks like I was slightly mistaken, I thought then. And then I noticed that his head was too wide and his ears were pathetic. Probably, waking up at night, he mentally gives an account to his ex-wife, where he spent the money, and why alimony is so small. In the fantasy world of such people, someone is constantly attacking them, and therefore it is necessary to keep the defense day and night. The latch on the door of his soul is always closed. Before, however, it didn't seem that way to me. They lived more or less quietly for a year, and suddenly Lada called me and said in a depressed, dull voice that she was dead tired and wanted to leave Oleg.
Everything looks gloomy, dim and blurry through the untreated glass. And then the details of their joint, but separate from all of us, life became known – they still rented an apartment, she has to pay, Lada, household expenses are also on her, Oleg's money is barely enough to help his former family and for constant trips to his friends and acquaintances. Whether they, this company, had some kind of joint business, or something else, he did not tell anything. It turned out that Lada was with him something like a useful accessory. In addition, meetings with his former family take up most of his leisure time. Lada feels lonely and dependent, Oleg does not discuss anything with her, just confronts the fact. The other day he brought some shapeless rag from a second-hand store into the house, without even bothering to take it to the dry cleaners, it smelled like someone else's - the smug superiority of wealth over poverty. Frozen and motionless, as if glazed, his eyes jumped out of their sockets, as if he had died for a few seconds when Lada refused to wear this "gift". At work, it was hinted that Oleg had "interests" on the side, which is a good idea to follow up on this. Lada just laughed in response. And, really, it's funny: to walk like a dog on the trail to find the target, then to walk all day on the heels, hide in the entrances, go down into the underpass, turn your back so as not to collide with your nose, follow the reflection in the window, shake with fear, as if he did not notice it... To run into a bunch of drunks, stoned, disinhibited, among whom a normal person can't last a minute... No, she is not capable of such a feat. Better the damned unknown. But how difficult it is to get up in the morning, as if you are getting out of a pitch cauldron, nothing pleases, a simple thought presses, I would have committed suicide long ago if I hadn't been ashamed to leave my mother without custody...
However, these lamentations did not touch me at all – yes, tears of grief will not help, only murder can help here. She paused for a moment, and then a wild feeling of pity came over me. Her voice was breaking in two, and I, like a whip, stunned by the flow of her words, still firmly stood my ground - the tears of a girl were just fiction, but the unfortunate Lada was unable at that moment to understand my dark humor. Well, yes, I kept saying, it can be difficult for everyone at first, but you can't run back and forth at the first inevitable difficulties of living together.
And how I later cursed myself for this, when she lay – inhibited by antidepressants, starved, looking like an icon and a nesterian at the same time, weak, almost transparent, immobilized by powerful medications - alone with the black horror of drug-induced bottomless depressions, submissive to any external will, convulsively sobbing, almost constantly immersed in endless vague dreams, in their utter inconsolability...
I asked Oleg not to inject such strong drugs through her vein, not to kill her brain completely, to leave only life-supporting drugs so that she could move. It is necessary to feed her properly again, but he did not even listen to me, asking only angrily and contemptuously: "Who is the doctor here?"
It seemed to me that he was going to bite me with his long sharp teeth. It was such a crowning joke - to bite, he bit, of course, overtime, with nurses, mainly. But after all, as soon as Lada complained, I should have taken her by the elbow tightly and taken her to Andrey, handed her from hand to hand like a precious burden, explaining everything to him, everything, everything, and quietly rejoiced, looking at how they, hugging and laughing with happiness, renewed and cleansed, will go through life together again, already knowing a lot about her bumps, feeling a mutual connection in a new way. And the dream in their circling heads is now one - to hide deeper into the greenery of the bushes of the quiet Zaraisk garden, where bees buzz in the spring, diligently collecting May honey, and rejoice in the silence and grace of the world, as when they lived still undivided, and at night they fell asleep holding hands, not distinguishing where whose fingers and whose dream it is...
And then it was too late, the opportunity was lost forever. He, Oleg, managed to tear off a piece of her soul, tear it off with blood, and after all, if she had left him, back to Andrey, everything would have returned to normal, and everything would have been fine. I don't know how good, but at least it would be! And now ... further - more, Oleg began to have some secrets, I saw her, them together a couple more times when I came to the clinic to visit my daughter at least at work, during her lunch break. He also came from the surgical building to have lunch with her. So, in the company of nurses and doctors of the shift, and our infrequent meetings took place.
I easily imagined how he, with such an athletic figure and confident gait, a strong, healthy man in the prime of life, comes to visit his ex, brazenly barges into the house, where time after his departure has stopped, everything is overgrown with cobwebs and the anguish of desperate loneliness, and he, already unloved and forever guilty, belatedly tormented by remorse.
At such moments I felt sorry for him somehow. He was joking on duty, was restrainedly friendly with everyone, and I didn't even have any thoughts that such a cute guy might not be a very good person alone with his wife, or even have something unfriendly in his bosom. Like a stone. I explained Lada's isolation by saying that it is very difficult for her now, so there is neither time nor desire to inform me about everything. She always tried to solve all the problems herself. I didn't insist on anything else. On the contrary, I approved of it. One day Oleg told her that he would never love her mother, that is, me. He didn't know me then and had no reason to show me anything, not to love me for anything, he said it just to hurt her... He did it.
But once Lada said that they want to buy an apartment. This pleased me – after all, it is even more expensive to shoot if they are going to live together further. I asked if they had money to buy? She replied that Oleg promised to borrow money somewhere, well, she has some savings - for her daughter's education. Of course, she will not share the apartment where she lived with Andrey, because her daughter also lives there. Well, Oleg, accordingly, is not going to sue his part of the apartment from the former. And I thought that was right, too. We found a lawyer, found a decent two-bedroom apartment in a house on Khoroshevka, agreed on a deal, and ... on this very day Oleg suddenly comes to us. Covered in soap, tearfully asks to find him 3 million rubles this very minute. Otherwise, they say, the deal will fall through, because his sister, who allegedly has to come from Kazan today and bring the missing amount, was able to take a ticket for a train that arrives late in the evening. And the transaction cannot be postponed, the process has already been launched, only an extra waste of time, money, and what's to be afraid of, the apartment will be bought in a Fret…
Really – what is there to be afraid of? I didn't have any suspicions about Oleg's dishonesty in my thoughts, well, yes, a bit of a klutz, since I got into such a mess with my previous wife – and I lost my apartment, and they literally kicked me out of the house in underpants and a T-shirt. How not to feel sorry for the poor guy? Of course, we found money for him - under the promise that he would definitely return it in the evening. He swore that he was taking this money for two or three hours, the train was already approaching Moscow, and even wrote a receipt - by hand, of course, and without any notary signature. He immediately rushed off, barely received the cash, and an hour and a half later Lada called and said that the deal had taken place, and they now have an apartment. I took a deep breath. Maybe everything will get better? However, closer to midnight, my joy somewhat waned – there is still no news from Oleg. When it was after midnight, I finally realized that something had gone wrong. Oleg not only did not bring the money he borrowed until the evening, but also turned off his phone, it lasted two weeks. There was no news from Lada either. I went to her clinic, but she wasn't there. The nurse informed me that Lada became ill the next day, sharp stomach pains, just after lunch, and they ate, as usual, here, and she was taken to the hospital with acute poisoning. I asked what they ate. As it turned out, Lada ate alone that day, and the very mushrooms that she and Oleg brought from the dacha were cooked there, there is still half a jar in the refrigerator, you can pick it up... When Lada was discharged, she was registered at a local hospital for gastritis, so said the local doctor, who simply could not help but appear. I was silent about money in such a situation, and my relatives, who had this money occupied until the evening, were also silent. Oleg just stopped catching my eye, and his phone didn't answer my calls. Finally, I asked Lada what they were going to do with the debt, she told me that no one had brought money to Oleg, as promised, that he had been dumped, once again, his sister had not arrived, and that they would pay this money together, somehow a little. Okay, fine. At the housewarming party, we bought furniture for their new apartment, let them live-rejoice, only everything was fine. With money, yes, it didn't matter, but - with whom doesn't it happen? Let down a trusting person. That's all. After all, the apartment was bought in a Fret. It's not a big deal. So another year passed. Lada rarely called, I explained this by the fact that my daughter was completely occupied with scientific work, because soon the defense of her dissertation, there was no time for additional earnings at all, so not paying back the debt was quite humanly understandable. For the whole year I have never been invited to them. There didn't seem to be an official housewarming, but gifts – a refrigerator, kitchen furniture, relatives took them to them. And now for the first time I go to their new apartment – Lada called twice, asked me to come. However, she warned me that she was still sick, and that I should not be scared. I asked if you had a cold or something? She replied – well, yes, something like that. I did not attach due importance to this, because I am a doctor myself, a candidate of medical sciences, and my husband is a doctor. Not to mention a bunch of friends. As they say, I don't want pain. It happened just before the New Year. But as soon as I crossed the cherished threshold, I was no longer up to looking at the apartment. The door was opened by Lada, very emaciated, in a low-tied kerchief. My heart skipped a beat. And then only a conversation about the disease took place. My first question is why have you been silent until now? She: didn't want to bother. Of course, it's not enough to kill for such a thing, but what's done is done. Of course, I had to be persistent, rejecting these intellectual theories about non-interference in the lives of the young, and all that. It was necessary to see her in any way, and not to be fooled that it would be perceived as an obsession. Especially since they haven't been children for a long time. Oleg is hardly younger than me at all. But I preferred to wait until they wanted me to come to them. The conversation with Lada turned out to be short-lived. Oleg was shouting all the time: "Hey, go already! Well, where are you there?" While I was washing my hands in the bathroom, my daughter managed to say that the doctor who treated her for more than a year for gastritis suddenly announced in mid-December that it was not gastritis, it turns out, but cancer, and in the last stage, it was useless to treat, and she had two weeks left to live, this is the maximum if she reaches a New one of the year, then this is a great gift. So that's it, period, the treatment is over, I ask you not to bother anymore - that's the whole conversation with the attending physician. Lada was stunned, but still refrained from hysteria, with the help of Oleg, she found another doctor who, for a similar fee, agreed, illegally, of course, to urgently do her chemistry and even registered her as a cancer patient, and even her district Aesculapius refused her, they say, it's still useless. The result, however, is still on the head, and even the nails have fallen off. And stomach pains both were and are. Even intensified. The condition is terrible. The fever is near forty closer to night. But somehow still holding on, did not fall off.
2.
After listening to this, I boiled over – why do these things get recognized when everything is already so running? But Lada kept saying her own thing: she didn't want to bother me. That's right, she's not a fan of crying into a vest, but not in such a case! No, I couldn't find a reasonable explanation for this. She no longer went to work after the final conversation with the doctor – however, she was not given a sick leave, and who should she have taken it from, the attending physician had already written her off. She just took a vacation at her own expense for a month – to die quietly. Without disturbing anyone. She immediately gave her car to her daughter by proxy – she is sure that is unlikely to work or get behind the wheel now.
************
Rom is the world invers
parabole
the end
…When they were sitting in front of the TV with their son in the evening, the boy, clicking the remote control, said quietly:
- I don't want to watch anymore. Can I go to bed?
"So early?" – the mother was surprised. – Are you tired? Come sit with me, Baby...
- I just want to sleep, really, Ma... - the boy said even more quietly, sliding to the floor. – And when will Grandma come back?
"Grandma..." the woman said absently, stroking her son's head. – Grandma won't come here anymore.
- Why? The boy asked, and tears began to roll down his cheeks.
- Because grandma is already old and she needs to live in the fresh air, in nature, and have a lot of rest. She will now have a lot of time to chat with other grandmothers. She deserved her rest, didn't she? Well, come on, I'll put you to bed tonight, my sweet Baby.
...She was looking forward to her son's dinner, the table was already festively served - for two. Today is a special day – her boy gave his first public speech, she watched on TV, he was interrupted by ovations twenty-five times. He, of course, will become a senator, then president. Her boy will go far, all in her. The same hot, explosive, and – very far-sighted.
That's the main thing. Yes! Her boy knows how to build long strategic lines; you can't take that away from him. The bell rang melodiously.
Smiling, she hurriedly went to open it. The first thing she saw when the door opened was a huge bouquet of scarlet roses.
- Happy Jam Day, Ma! – said the son, leaning towards her and giving her a ringing peck on the cheek.
- And what is this? – the woman asked happily, having seen a huge box behind her son's back. – How big it is! What's there?
The son put the flowers in a vase, dragged the box into the room, carefully removed the packing tape. The woman waited impatiently.
"You know," he said, picking up the paper from the floor and stuffing it into a garbage bag, "the second amendment to your project has finally been adopted, so I congratulate you twice today.
And he kissed his mother warmly on both cheeks.
- You're so attentive, Baby… Is this for me? - the woman said absently, feeling the strange gift with trembling fingers. – And what is it, dear?
"It's a basket like this..." he said, pulling a large basket out of the box. - Look how everything is thought out. Do you want to try it out?
- Oh! – the woman threw up her hands. – How cute! It's for the cottage! And even a pillow! Can I?
She deftly jumped into the basket, sat down on the pillow, folding her legs in the lotus position.
- Well, how? Comfortable? – the son asked solicitously, smiling affectionately and tenderly. – Do you like it?
- Charming! And why is she? So big… You can take it on a trip, right?
- Of course, that's right! – said the son, lowering the lid and snapping the lock. – You know, according to the Second Amendment, the socially useful age of our citizens has now been reduced to forty-five. With the complete abolition of all assistance.
- But I have my own bank! the desperate voice of a woman from the basket rang out.
- All banks have burst, now we will have a single convertible currency – labor hours. Having worked three mandatory hours for the state, a citizen of socially useful age can go to a fitness center or a gambling house, or he can stay working longer, and the labor hours earned in this way can be converted into shares over time. I decided to go this way.
Besides, there are preferences for young politicians – an hour in two. After ten years of hard work, I will be able to buy a small factory and marry the daughter of an oil magnate. Yes, of course, you listened to the international news, our state has finally received the status of the highest category, now we are the Roman Empire. And your contribution to this is.
You can be legitimately proud. However, we will have to fight. And this does not please.
- Ohhhhhh... my baby ... - a faint sigh barely came from under the lid.
- Are you comfortable? – the son asked solicitously, throwing the basket on his back.
"Rome is the 'world' on the contrary..." came the barely audible voice again.
"Interesting observation," he said, loading the basket into the trunk. - View of the problem from the inside. What do you want to drink? We will drive for an hour, then by funicular to the top of Mount Moriah.
- Oooooh…
The son slammed the car door.
- Well, with God…
In the rearview mirror, he saw the empty house gradually shrinking in size for a long time – blind plastic windows looked after them indifferently.
The mood was not very good, in the morning he heard bad news on the radio – Russian tanks entered Georgia.
Of course, they won't get to Mount Moriah soon, but still somehow it's not fun at heart. To cheer himself up, he turned on the radio. A cheerful melody sounded, they sang in Russian:
Ìåäëåííî ðàêåòû óïëûâàþò âäàëü,
Òû ìåíÿ äîìîé íå ñêîðî æäè,
È õîòÿ Àìåðèêó íåìíîãî æàëü,
Ëó÷øåå, êîíå÷íî, âïåðåäè.
Ìîæåò ìû îáèäåëè êîãî-òî çðÿ,
Êàëåíäàðü çàêðîåò ýòîò ëèñò.
Ëó÷øå áû ñèäåëè äîìà âòèõàðÿ,
Íî îïÿòü ìû ñëûøèì òîò æå ñâèñò.
Ñêàòåðòüþ äîðîãà óáåãàåò âäàëü,
È óïèðàåòñÿ ïðÿìî â íåáîñêëîí,
Êàæäîìó, êàæäîìó â ëó÷øåå âåðèòñÿ,
Êàòèòñÿ, êàòèòñÿ ãîëóáîé âàãîí… 1)
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1) Translate in engl.:
Slowly the rockets float away into the distance,
Don't wait for me to come home,
And although America is a little sorry,
The best, of course, is ahead.
Maybe we offended someone in vain,
The calendar will close this sheet.
It would be better to stay at home on the sly,
But again we hear the same whistle.
Good riddance runs away into the distance,
And it rests directly on the sky,
Everyone, everyone believes in the best,
But the blue car is rolling, rolling again...
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Review
Rome - the world on the contrary, is this the "Legend of Narayama"? So in my opinion the Japanese movie was called? We will not allow this.
With respect. Ivan
Yes, you will. All of it are simply deceived everyone at all.
Larisa Mironova
14 ôåâðàëÿ 2007 ã.
Larisa MIRONOVA
Creative biography
She was born in Germany in March 1947 in the family of a Russian officer (according to her passport, however, the apocrypha on this account give other information, but there is no documentary evidence). She was registered upon arrival in the USSR in May 1947, in Ustyuzhna, Vologda region, at the place of permanent residence of her father, Vladimir Andreevich Mironov. She graduated from school in Svetlogorsk with a gold medal, in 1965, immediately entered Moscow State University, for a physics degree, then in 1982 - also for a psychology degree at Moscow State University, an engineering stream for those with higher education. Then begins the band of humanitarian education. In 1993, she entered the Komsomol at the Literary Institute. From 2008 to 2013 she studied at the French University College (Moscow branch of Moscow State University), attended classes in the departments of sociology, history, literature, law. She defended her thesis (Dissertation) at the newly opened Philosophy Department in 2011, topic: "Emotions as the energy of life." Scientific works on theoretical physics, gravity and geology were published under the name of her husband – "Vladimirova". I have been publishing since 1985 under my last name – Mironova. The first publication was in the Moscow News, in the section "science and technology", genre "Portrait essay", then in the newspapers "Pravda", "Rural Life", "Literary Russia", magazines "Technology - youth", "Weapons", "Moscow", "Ural", "Young Guard", "Russian Province", etc. In 1987, a magazine version of the story in the genre of "notes of a kindergarten teacher" was published, and in 1989, this story was published in two publishing houses at once – Sovremennik and Molodaya Gvardiya. The popularity of this text was extremely high: all publications, regardless of political overtones, including the TV program "Vzglyad", gave equally enthusiastic reviews and reviews. The total circulation of this story was more than 1 million copies. After that, a difficult period in the writer's life began: only magazines were printed, and publishing houses since 2002 took up the publication of a book by an author who did not join any of the literary groups only on a paid basis. During the 90s, as a freelance journalist, I managed to travel around many European countries, as well as spend some time (1997-98) in the USA. All the impressions formed the basis of the materials that were published in the form of essays, novels and short stories in various periodicals at the same time.
In 2016, after the next International Symposium on Globalism and Economics, where I actively made presentations in various sections and participated in discussions, I received an offer from the publishing concern OMNI Scriptum, registered at that time in Germany, for the scientific publishing house Lambert Academia Publishing to write a book on the topic of my report. This is how my first international book "Universal Knowledge" was published in 2017. The peculiarity of this publishing system is that the lightning speed of publication is provided by the authors themselves, who, according to the established regulations, after the approval of the text by the scientific editorial board, upload the finished file of their book to the publishing platform themselves and fully form the e-book, from the production of the cover to the full layout. Then, after passing the technical inspection, the e-book enters the printing department and becomes a paper book in 3-5 days, then it is included in international catalogs and the ordered copies are sent to all major bookstores of the world. At the same time, books are being sold through its own online sales system based on preliminary online applications. So in 5 years she has gained a significant multilingual readership, since almost all of my books have been translated by this publishing system into eight popular languages of the world; write in three languages myself – Russian, French and English.
Lives in Moscow.
List of books published in the USSR and the Russian Federation by Larisa MIRONOVA /1989-2016/
"Children's home" (Notes of the educator): Novella. — M., "Sovremennik", 1989.
"Warm House", 1,2 volumes, an anthology of orphanage prose. "Young Guard", 1989.
"Sowers keepers" (biographical essays, COLLECTIVE COLLECTION)): in 2 volumes. — M.: "Sovremennik", 1992. ISBN 5-270-01667-2 (vol.1), ISBN 5-270-01668-0 (vol.2)
"The Ghost of love", novel, M.: "Moscow", 2003.
"Angels played on harps" (author's collection), three novels ("Angels played on harps", "Whirl", "Rat's Heart") and "Boxer". — M.: "Sovremennik", 2006.
"Is the machine also a man?": Novel. — M.: "Publisher I. V. Balabanov", 2007.
"Duel with death": Novel. — M.:"Publisher I. V. Balabanov", 2008.
"Unsinkable Atlantis": A novel with history. — M.: "Publisher I. V. Balabanov", 2008
"The orphanage and its inhabitants", novella, Moscow: "Publisher I. V. Balabanov", 2009
"Blue Blood", novel, Moscow: "Publisher I. V. Balabanov", 2009, ISBN 978-5-91563-005-4
"The Heart of a Rat", 2nd edition, (in the COLLECTIVE collection). "Russian style", Germany, 2010
"Unsinkable Atlantis - 2", novel with history, Moscow: "Publisher I.V. Balabanov", 2011
"Who, Cats and Cat again ...", book of poems, Moscow: publishing house "IMAGE", 2013
"Blue blood" ("Sagn bleu"), author's collection in Russian - French languages, M., "Publisher I.V. Balabanov", 2013. ISBN 978-5-91563-059-7
"Day of Silence" ("Ce jour de silance"), author's collection in Russian -French, M. "Publisher I.V. Balabanov", 2013. ISBN 978-5-91563-058-0
"Day of Silence 2" ("Mille premier jour"), author. collection in Russian-fr. languages, M. "Publisher I.V. Balabanov", 2014. ISBN 978-5-91563-057-3
"Emotions as the energy of life", philosophical research, M. Publishing House IMAGE, 2014. ISBN 978-5-906009-36-4
"The nostalgia of Fran;ois Villon", literary and historical research and translations of poems, M., 2014. ISBN 978-5-906009-35-7
"Day of Silence III", the novel "Francois and Marguerite of Navarre", etc., M., 2015. ISBN 978-5-9905061-1-4
"The Novel about the Rose" (translation), novel-research, Moscow, 2015. ISBN 978-5-9905061-2-1
"Genius and Villains", a novel about Caravaggio. Historical research, M., 2015. ISBN 978-5-9905061-3-8
"Iliad", (translation), the epic of Homer. research, M., 2015. ISBN 978-5-9905061-4-5
"Anti-Tolki-no.", (with comments), epic "Sillmarion", Moscow, 2015 ISBN 978-5-9905061-5-2
"Man and the world of values", philosophical essay. M., 2015 ISBN 978-5-9905061-6-9
"The will to live", novella. Deutschland, Verlag Stella, 2015 ISBN 978-3-95772-035-1
"Human metric", novel-script. M., Lit. republic, 2015 ISBN 978-5-7949-0483-3
"The wind is leafing through my manuscript ...". M., ISP, 2015 ISBN 978-5-906784-74-2
"Privorennyy to poetry" (based on Mallarm;), M., IMAGE, 2016 ISBN 978-5-906009-96-8
"Proof of God. Gravity." Scientific essay. M, IMAGE, 2015 (published in 2016)
"The Answer to Herodotus". Historical and philosophical novel. M. 2016
"Historical dramas". 6 plays. M. 2015
"The Cat's illusions about people." The novel is an arrangement from Japanese and others M. 2015
"HE". Three short stories. M. 2014
"Immoral history". Three essays. Philosophy. M. 2015
"The word about Igor's regiment". Translation and interpretation. Historical and literary research. M. 2016
List of books by Larisa Mironova, published. abroad and in international publishing houses /from 2017 to 2022 /
"Universal Knowledge: Hidden Motives", Economics and Politics. Germany, LAMBERT Publishing house. 2017
"Brain fracture". Cybernetics and society. Germany. LAMBERT. 2017
"Revolution as a return". Germany. Cycles and rhythms of history. LAMBERT. 2017
"Globalization: The World as a flourishing diversity of nations". Germany. LAMBERT. 2017
"Our antiquities". Germany. LAMBERT. 2018
"Genome: Threads of life". Germany. LAMBERT. 2018
"Se Man". Germany. LAMBERT. 2019
"Digital country: the state as a platform". Germany. LAMBERT. 2019
"Holy Wars of the Middle Ages. Local and global contexts. Germany. LAMBERT. 2019
"From Machiavelli to Piketty" LAMBERT. 2020",
"The Nature of Viral Politics". LAMBERT. 2020
"Self-assembly of matter". LAMBERT. 2021
"In search of a lost paradise." LAMBERT. 2020
"This mysterious Russian soul." A new look at the Russian Revolution. LAMBERT. 2021
“Mystery of Modern Monarchy”. JF. 2021
«Duel with Death”. JF. 2021
From 2020 to 2022, all books published in international publishing houses, and some from previous years, are immediately translated into 8 main languages of European countries, that is, for readers around the world.
«The Holy Wars of the Middle Ages"
"Beyond the man"
"Revoilution as an inversion"
"From Machiavelli to Piketty “
”POLISTORIA". The multiplicity of history. The oldest states of Europe. YAM
Books 2019-2022, immediately published in English, the author's text, are translated by the publisher into 8 other languages, also into Russian:
"Cod of Ciprian cat"
"Insidhts of Carroll Luis"
"Speciale woman"
"Moscow shurm"
*World inverse" JF,
"ZEUS. Don`t wake sliping god" JF.
“Lilianna” JF.
"Pregnant planet" (Russian name "Living growing planet". LAMBERT) JF. 2022
"Love and Death" / LAP, 2022, ISBN 978 - 613-9-42423-8
"Stop, look around!" Serg Klyaus
/translate on English Larisa Mironova/ JustFiktion. 2022,
ISBN 978 613 -9- 42524 – 2
and others.
All books in this section are available on the "more books" website
In December 2022, she published, together with her comrades in the literary workshop, an almanac in five languages – New Year "Russian Story", where she separately led the thematic section "Man and Society":
http://www.russianstory.moscow/index_ru.html
http://www.russianstory.moscow/Mironova/Mironova_ru.html