In the Kremlin

Nothing

November 10, 2015 Vladimir Nadein

According to the thoughtlessness of the sick, ignorant and frightened old man, the head of the most immense country on earth was a nondescript shorty with an extremely deceptive appearance.

In Smolny, he was considered a sweet holu, in the Kremlin - a simpleton, obviously insignificant for the title role. In the White House, in the present, American, after conferring, they recognized him worthy of custody of a special process of clumsy Russian democracy.

The colleagues called him a “cigarette button”, the immediate commanders were “rat.” Girls of the third category looked at him not together. He was not taken into the desired foreign intelligence. The simple major position of the head of the garrison club in Dresden sailed from his hands, along with the collapse of the GDR. Associate Professor Sobchak, the shrill grandfather of Russian freedom, dared to entrust his first election campaign - and lost with a bang.

Failures followed him as a series. From all places he was driven due to professional unsuitability. In addition to the last place where there was no one to drive.

For the last place is the President of the Russian Federation. Then he lingered. Neither the insidious Berezovsky nor the cunning Chubais, nor even the Constitution of the Russian Federation itself became an obstacle to him. Our shooting was heated, so to this day there is not a single sage in the God -chosen Russian world who, poking his finger, could declare without crawler: but I told you what!

Although, in fact, there were a great many those who warned and warned. For every taste. Fans of the foamy Berlin beer saw in him a new Honecker, lovers of salted Tekila - a new Pinochet.

What is “tequila”! Even I personally, born of the Fatherland for meek consumption of vodka under the honest name “vodka”, and then to the best of his strength discouraged friends to vote for a “typical native of the KGB”. And he wrote different articles, where he argued, in particular, that the old Chekist Primakov will already be amiable to the people, that he would invite a respectable audience to his funeral a lot earlier than a young colleague.

But all this is in the past. The generals, they say, are preparing for the past war, political scientists and journalists, as it turned out, are for yesterday's election. Our pigeon turned out to be with Orlin's grip. He was blew under the feathers for checking, forgetting to feel steel muscles.

And these muscles were not at all from a stupid bird with a playful twig in his teeth. The whole Moore with the KGB turned out to be a legend of cover. Today, the deceitfulness of the ruler is the property of the planet of the whole. And at the beginning of the endless presidential path, many colleagues, including, alas, of me, listened to the first -person three, as if spellbound.

So he says that Yukos will not disperse. And he explains quite intelligently: "Well, who cuts the chicken that carries golden eggs." And already the next day - cuts. And he explains without blinking: he could not, they say, to reach the prosecutor.

Here he lies about Kursk, about Beslan, about Stalin, about the Golden Horde, about Nemtsov, about a bright future and a foggy past. Television is delighted, I will not know the ratings.

Of course, we, knocked down pilots from small unfinished publications, we catch him by a school -like hand, for a nightmare lawlessness. And although the Kremlin is high, but everyone can see: it does not blush, no. He is not embarrassed. Only thicker and more often falls fresh lies on top of the still not dried old lies.

I am sitting behind the “claw”, multiplying unbearable quotes and turning my head: no, this is not a KGB. This is something else. Maybe similar to the KGB, but still somehow not so. Somewhere I read about him. But where?

The best book about him I consider the work of three authors (N. Gevorkyan, N. Timakov, A. Kolesnikov), which is called "from the first person." A group of three authors created, I recall, Berezovsky. He then owned the Kommersant newspaper, the authors were the stars of the publication, and the book was dedicated to the presidential elections.

The task was to glorify the one who was "acting The first person ”, but either the plan was the devilish, or the indisputable talent took the writers“ in the wrong way ”. I was and remained with the opinion that even then, and, moreover, Russia would have a completely different president for Russia now if each voter took to read these notes for his work.

However, the train left and late to write reviews.

From this book, we will remember, in particular, that the hero from 8 to 15 years old did not read a single book, was a member of street gangs, where he was trained, as he recently admitted, always beat first.

As for street gangs, then here ... Well, of course! Former orphanage, I can attract my modest experience. However, he is nothing next to the knowledge of the outstanding writer and man of the highest moral merits of Varlam Tikhonovich Shalamov. His “Essays on the Crime World” is the key to the movement of the luminaries.

Barlam Shalamov proved that the criminal world was becoming attractive to adolescents and the most tender age: “The young man is not able to immediately figure out, to see the true face of the Urkagans - and then it is too late, he provides assistance to thieves, even the smallest, proximity - already branded and society, and with his new comrades is connected with life and death.”

In the election book there is an interesting recognition of how the remote courtyard life allowed the “Urkagan-two” (the self-name of our hero) to maintain the thieves' authority of the arbitration judge, or “Resolve”.

The suggestion of fear is a long -standing bait of the criminal world, about which Varlah Shalamov writes this: “Among his peers, the former comrades, he notices some alienation mixed with fear, and, by naivety of his child, takes this attitude for self -respect.

And most importantly - he sees that everyone is afraid of thieves, they are afraid that anyone can catch, groan their eyes ... "

In recent years, the “stagnation”, despite the efforts of the police, “martial arts,” have become nests, of which organized crime scattered later in thick flocks. Friendship of boxers and wrestlers grew first in connection with the accomplices, then into clubs of millionaires. It was not shameful there to “boil around the hairdryer” and wear raspberry jackets on top of the major lamas.

But most importantly, a special morality was strong in these clubs and triumphed, which allowed and encouraged mockery of morality. Or, with the words of Varlam Shalamov: “They say to me that I am a scoundrel. Okay, I am a scoundrel. I am a scoundrel, and a bastard, and a killer. But what from this? I do not live your life, I have my own life, it has other laws, other interests, another honesty! ” “So the blatar says.”

And it does not matter at all how the worthless little man without billions, shares or general shoulder straps react to my words. And to be ashamed of exposed lies, to recognize their mistakes to some kind of public there-and the top of the shame is completely. “Lies, deception, provocation in relation to Fraer,” writes Varlam Shalamov, “at least to the person who saved the blatar from death, all this is not only in the order of things, but also a special valor of the thieves world, its law.”

Remember the assurances about Crimea, tanks from Voentorg or the secret of Yakunin’s salary - is it not true, how it seems? And if you throw it like a Chekist hexogen, a couple of bags of everyday television hut, then the picture clears up to small details. And it no longer important that there were no electronics in the camps of the times of Shalamov. But there were benefits, there was a bribery and there were competitions in cynicism. ”

“The poison of the thieves world is incredibly terrible,” Varlam Shalamov is sure. - Poisoning with this poison is the corruption of all human in man. With this fetid breathing, everyone who is in contact with this world breathes. What gas masks are needed here? "

Many naive people fell on a hook of thieves' romance. She was given an undeserved tribute not only to Maxim Gorky with the eruptions of the whitish -sung, not only Victor Hugo and Kuprin or Pogodin. The imaginary and real effectiveness of the stars of the criminal world, who always win-from a rival boy in a courtyard fight, to a stubborn prime minister who inherited from the former president, played their role here.

Being before the meeting of the rich, his own and overseas, he recently admitted with ridiculous pride: “Even 50 years ago, Leningradskaya street taught me one rule: if the fight is inevitable, I must be first to beat.” My Odessa street happened 15 years earlier, immediately after the war. She was hungry and cruel. But I firmly remember that the first to beat us was a meanness. The first was usually beaten with a punks. Yes, and she, as if embarrassed to violate the laws of the street, released two or three probed shorties with one task in the front rows: provoke the first blow. Having done their job, the seams are immediately draped, hiding behind the fists and knives of the adult lads.

Barlam Shalamov confirms this, although on a more general observation material. He writes: “All the thieves' psychology is built on that long -standing, centuries -old Observation of the blatars that their victim will never do, cannot think about it as a light heart and a calm soul daily, is happy to make a thief. This is his strength - in unlimited impudence, in the absence of any morality. There is nothing “too much” for the blatar. ”

Maybe, therefore, it is piled on the most snowy country of the planet of the glory of the most unpredictable country, that there is nothing more “too much” for her?



Graphics of Mikhail Zlatkovsky/Zlatkovsky.ru