Prince for the poor

Our government has one amazing feature: it cannot be protected. That is, somehow in passing, by passing-it is still passing. But to seriously, it does not work. Around our government, humor is somewhat specific. You will only say, for example, “Kiriyenko” - and everyone is already smiling. Or say "phrases" - laugh. Or “Zubkov” - well, just like a fresh person, he only managed to give the girl a candy, and also - either hikhonki, then hahanki.
At the words, “the government thought and decided” everyone looks at everyone cheerfully. Recently I was on some kind of discussion. The man on the rostrum is very sensible, with numbers in his hands, proved how skillfully our government accumulates money in the Future generation fund - and the audience was lying. The final phrase “and there is no doubt that the government program will be fully executed and on time” drowned at the laughter of the entire hall. And the hawler came from the gallery: "Well, man, you are in the blow today!"
You can't work like that. These jokes should be prohibited with extremism. Here, let’s say, now, before your eyes, I intend to seriously protect Mr. G.N. Batanova. He is the head of the Pension Fund of the Federation. Well, sort of like the Minister of Pensions. And they attacked him literally in one phrase. Gennady Nikolaevich recently spoke out in the sense that not everything is so bad with us, since the married couple of pensioners, receiving about 6 thousand rubles a month, is considered oligarchs somewhere in Kamyzyak.
What has begun here! Refrigerators were opened in front of viewers, and these refrigerators were empty. The elderly ladies of decent appearance remembered the cheese into sight. And the People's Artist Solomin, the one who was a brilliant headquarters captain Koltsov and the favorites of the entire USSR, sadly admitted that with such a beggarly pension he would be forced to pull the strap until the end of his days.
In short, the anger of the public was indescribable. Sounded frankly sadistic proposals. For example, make Batanov himself live on a retirement. Or send him to Courchevel with a three -year pension allowance in his pocket. Behind all this terrible folklore, the main thing fell out of sight. Batanov did not say anything about famous artists and refrigerators in Nizhny Novgorod. He said only what he said. Namely: a double pension removes a married couple living in Kamyzyak, straight to oligarchic orbit.
If you do not believe the Minister of Pensions, it means that you do not know what a reed is.
My life was so that I saw different things. West West Palm Beach walked under the quietly rustling palm trees, where the family nest of the rich Kennedy. He visited the stagnant Santa Barbara, this is already in the Pacific Ocean. I looked at the Pinang island trembling from the helicopter in the wind. He stayed in a luxurious Marbella, which others call Marbeyia. And as for Kamyzyak, then I was here ten times, if not more.
So, I ask you to believe: Kamyzyak is a worthy opponent and West Palm Beach, and Pinanga, and Santa Barbara. Kamyzyak is, if you like, the same Marbella. Only instead of licked estates with blue spots of pools, you see the dusty street of Lenin, along which, swaying, a lone traveler comes. In the pocket of the traveler, the ball, in a sweaty hand, is clamped with an empty glassotar. There is a traveler - nowhere.
16 thousand residents of Kamyzyak account for three thousand pensioners and three to three hundred officials. All others are their dependents.

There was a time when dashing pirates and fishermen booked by the sun lived in this village. Then the millions of the convicts blocked the Volga with idiotic dams, then the village became a district center, then they began to call the fishermen poachers, then the whole delta was divided by two gangs, from which former police officers headed one, and the other - the current one. The gangs were worn on Japanese engines, shot from the latest machine guns. Having caught an unorganized reeds in their territorial waters, the gangs beat him tightly, which was why the poaching began to enrich only those who were already rich.

The town of Danidin (Florida, the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, a little north of their St. Petersburg) is very similar to the village of Karalat (Astrakhan region, Kamyzyaksky district, 28 km to the south). In Danidine, a plot of half a hectare and a 100-meter output to the water (Waterfront) costs from one and a half million dollars. Accordingly, in the aristocratic West Palm Beach - ten times more expensive.

Exactly the same property in the punishment can be bought today for one thousand bucks. In Kamyzyak, where there are more civilizations, prices are higher. But many want to sell, they want to buy - miserable units.

If this Kamyzyak, with the adjacent area of ​​the Volga delta, bought Japan, sued Germany or conquered Singapore, then all of its 16 thousand inhabitants, becoming foreigners, would have plunged into economic nirvana in a matter of months. Now it is difficult to say what exactly they would put on their conditions on. They would sell real estate that is not in charge of demand. Would trade in lotuses that abundantly decorate the delta. Black caviar would be touched. But for five years later, former drunks would come to the neighboring Narimanov in fresh shirts and with a humanitarian mission. And for sure, a new Zhirinovsky would be found, calling for a blessed land to win back - but already with a hidden delicacy.

G.N. Batanov did not come up with a Kamyzyak. It is difficult to live in this town, but it’s nice to relax. The abundance of the ears and river expanses attracted here the exit session of the Pension Fund. Exactly in those hours when our new Prime Minister Zubkov gave the old woman a Purgen pill (stop laughing, gentlemen!), The new heiress of Zurabova (revival in the hall) accompanied him to Astrakhan. There, the government decided (look here, at me!), Where to go to the Volga. Decided: even so far in the Caspian Sea. At the same time, visitors told how to be an honorable pensioner in Kamyzyak. Sunny morning, six thousand in his arms, his son sobered up and combed his hair, a bottle, sausages, bread bread, tomatoes from the garden were still warm along the way, you are still warm, juicy ray in half, take one, another, you go out into the sun and bastard yourself like an oligarch.

But there are thousands and thousands of such camuzyaks in Rus'. So there was a high-ranking official of Mr. Batanov, claiming that under certain conditions our pensions ... Yes, stop laughing, after all!