[Archive c 17.03.2008] Humour [Archive to 28.04.2012] - page 718

 

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Received an invitation to a meeting with Medvedev at Red October. Didn't go and was right. Such an embarrassment it turned out to be, judging by the feedback.
 
granit77:
Got an invitation to a meeting with Medvedev at Red October. Didn't go and was right. Such an embarrassment it turned out to be, judging by the feedback.

So you would have come. You would have had a chat. With me. Why do you need Medvedev? There's a place to stay, you know...

And here, by the way, is our favourite Dima Bykov. By the meeting. Enjoying:

/*
At Red October, catching the moment, Medvedev shone. There's Octobrist now: there's truth in the former president's appearance at one of the former factories. The occasion itself seemed to me vulgar: he had given up everything he could, so why should he? They made chocolate there once upon a time - now they gathered together (I cannot understand who selected the heroes, but it was clearly a crafty demon) and began to explain to him in chorus how correctly he did everything that he did, how firmly he bent his line, giving up in the main, winning in the small... At the same time Putin was giving interviews in Barvikha to three TV channels: why - I do not know. Apparently, so that the local legalised raspberries could still see the tandem, although there was no tandem at all.

A story worthy of Agniya Barto, though not worth a penny in reality. What did he say? - or none of you would have told it better! He gave no new signals, nothing foretold a chorus. There was the steel-worker from Zlatoust, or rather the steel-worker from Zlatoust, shining like a fresh orange, and announcing somewhat manneredly that he had had a son this summer (through Medvedev's efforts, I suppose). There was Minaev, our loose-faced akyn, who uttered a couple of rotten slogans - he praises the authorities with the kind of zeal with which it is customary to scold them in kitchens. The whole internet has been abuzz with fury - a feat which we are always ready to achieve. Everyone kept repeating: "Don't give up on the government! Medvedev was indignant: "What are you, what are you! I didn't know what to write my epistolary about - I didn't know myself, and I kept looking over my shoulder, but at that moment Tina Kandelaki lent a fresh impulse to the conversation. First she revealed that her friend, a successful Englishman, had found a new home in Russia (this young man must be desperate!): having torn his fate to shreds, he rushed over here and it makes sense. "There's only drive in Russia today! It's impossible to live in Russia without a drive!"

Here's a thing incomprehensible to the mind, but intelligible to anyone in that cloaca: in our country, success will come to whoever has drive, Kandelaki said. And so, recalling my banal lyfe, into the empty space flowing from nothing - I began to think: what is the drive? How do people understand this word - all these people who are there for a purpose and not for the sake of pleasure, who are frisky beyond their years and cheerfully inadequate in general? After all, I am familiar with English, but, unlike the rogue me, they speak a different language, and "drive" means something else there. The country is full of sorrows and atrocities which no verb can burn away - so how can I master this drive to become as fresh and cheerful? And what is drive? The ability to combine withering humour with the pressure of flattery? The ability to lie? The skill of not reading? The art of running in place with a cry of "March!"? To find in lifelessness a nerve, to hurl stones at a dissenter, is the skill of all Medvedev's reserve; I fear that is all his skill. This science I cannot chew, I cannot crawl to its bright peaks; there's a glimmer of sheer madness in his beaming, joyful eye. It shone in Medvedev's eye, too. Please don't weep too much for the overly vulnerable - Medvedev's style was clearly revealed to us: the manner of smiling on the ruins. After all, when ruin reigns, what comfort is there for the motherland? "Smile more often," he urged. Why? To become a willing idiot? But this is indeed the new wave: one must keep cheerful and grey. Their every atmosphere is full of strained jubilation: miner, boxer, pig farmer and shepherd, presenter, steelworker and their employers, everyone is staring and laughing out loud, and this collective laughter is the basis of drive. They lie that we have no opportunities - we have plenty of them: to lose our shame, go mad laughing, get into the seventies for free... Indeed, if we want to survive here and get into a box, a lying, cheerful cretin is a worthy and impressive specimen.

And the others, of any blood, feeling where the elements are taking them, more and more often choose drive away.

Or rather, drive away from here.
*/

 

The recent election of Medvedev disgusted me.

The future election of Putin makes me want to shoot all the Medvedevs.

I have always been a pacifist. I thought let others fight. Now there is nothing to lose.

There is nothing. All that's left is the territory called Russia and its former glory.

 
Zhunko:

The recent election of Medvedev disgusted me.

The future election of Putin makes me want to shoot all the Medvedevs.

I have always been a pacifist. I thought let others fight. Now there is nothing to lose.

There is nothing. All that's left is the territory called Russia and its former glory.

At least you, Vadim, have some reflection left.

 
It's horrible, hopeless and swampy. Bloody tandem, for fuck's sake!
 

Shit! What's wrong with you?!

Has something changed? Are we less than we were more? )))

We are what we are. And all these games... And of course, those are not Russia. We are Russia! How about that! ))) // I got embarrassed by the pathos.

Just kidding. I really don't give a shit. Let them. I haven't depended on them for a long time... I don't even think about whether they're freaks, aliens or Bigfoot. What's the difference?

 

They lie that we don't have opportunities.
we've got plenty of them:
to lose our shame, to go mad for a joke,
to be free in the year 70...

Truly, if we want
to survive here and get in the box at the same time,
then the lying, cheerful cretin
is a worthy and impressive specimen.

And the rest are of all blood,
once they get a feel for where the elements are headed,
are increasingly choosing to drive away.
To be more exact - drive away from here.

// D. Bykov

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I just wanted to repeat the thought. Sorry for being so depressing...

 
Sorry guys, it's all my fault. I wanted to write in the smoking room, but ended up in the unapologetic humour.
It's embarrassing to scold Medvedev too - who doesn't remember the obliging postgraduate students making their way to a degree and moonlighting in the department?
But Putin is a real man, energetic, resolute and indefatigable. The bad thing is that all his conceptual experience is limited to the kontora, where he didn't even manage to get to the position of head of a department during the Soviet era, and the shameless liberties of the early nineties in St. Petersburg.
So he's building the country according to these concepts, he's never heard of any others. This is our misfortune and his.