Translated material
On the native boulevard
In society
On the native boulevard
June 6, 2013 Viktor Shenderovich
Behind the back of the Bronze Griboedov, on Chistoprudny Boulevard, no “funny languages”, not-no! Neither French nor Nizhny Novgorod, only Russian swearing! They do not swear here - they, according to long -standing observation, are talking ...
The bent young man (the category “minus 18”) does it so loudly that the atavistic Soviet desire to pass him into the hands of representatives of the law wakes me up.
By thinking, I take myself in my hands.
Because a frenzied fool is deaf, I suppose, and the cops, and no law, of course, will not work anyway: the cops will simply mark it, otherwise they will also put the bottle somewhere ... Let it swear better, I think, a fool.
And then - the police swear the same way! Just in the stuffed car cadets, patrolling the metro, discussed what branches there are which chicks are found. There was no phrase without the article “fucking”. So, in principle, the cops, at the same time with this smoked and all nearby fauna, must detain me ...
Yes, yes, I need to go to the police as a suspicious item found at the station!
In these misanthropic thoughts, I manage to reach some logical emphasis - and then God (who is not a fraer) sends me three young people, a girl and two guys.
And the girl says (I swear, this is literally):
- They just did not hear the ninth symphony of Schnita!
Oh…
And in itself "ah", and - what an idea!
To tie all (starting from the cops), put everyone in the mouth of a gag, take it to the conservatory, pour to the armchairs and play them the ninth symphony of Schnita - which, by the way, I have not heard either.
At worst, you can play the ninth Beethoven. And see what will happen.
Maybe it's still fixable, what do you think?
Photo by ITAR-TASS/ Valery Sharifulin