Empire ***

As soon as the good news of the coming second coming came to me, I made a short Facebook entry. “Well, friends,” I wrote. “With an old new reptile of you. It seems that no sensation is never a sensation, but with a distinct taste of laundry soap in your mouth what to do?”

Yes, I felt about the taste of such a taste, diving into the TV and suddenly seeing the XXIV Congress of the CPSU in all my pristine beauty - with the same presidiums, with the same ovations and getting up, with the same silent and solemn "party -made" facial expressions. “Where are these faces?” I thought. “Is this a completely different generation?” No, the point is not in generations, but in that toxic public atmosphere, where these mutants can breed and multiply.

I am engaged in art, and therefore everything related to shape and style is no less substantial for me than what is commonly called content. What happened, and, most importantly, as it happened, a person with at least elementary ideas about taste and public decency cannot perceive otherwise than an abusive obscenity.

A year or two years ago, some activist subjected the police pursuit for the slogan "Down with the autocracy and the throne!" In general, I think he was correctly punished. We must try to think more thoroughly and express your thoughts more correctly. Because what we observe is, of course, no throne. Where there! This is a normal thieves' gangway, where, before all the honest and dishonest people, some Dimon crowned the conditional Vovan, and he is from his shoulder - bam! - Premier chair. Not Sru, they say, Dimon, the boys do not pass their own. All according to concepts. There and Father Chaplin said that all the types are honest and that it is, like him, "an example of kindness and morality." This one is responsible for the bazaar, it will not drive the blizzard. The place you advised my place - thank you, brother. And I will not forget you - you will be satisfied. And so that other boys who are not so not according to the concepts, but on other other concepts there were not throwing us with our concepts, we will depict them there elections there in the best possible way, all sorts of percentages, then, ***-mine. Like people, in short. They, in general, are still suckers - they will believe like cute. And they will not believe, they will pretend that they believed. Yes, and how to not believe them, estimate: they will not move without our diesel fuel. And with our local tops we were completely rolled: a sucker on a sucker sits and drove a sucker. The mustachioed plowan brought this breed with the help of Michurin and Lysenko. They are even for me and me, even for a line of eared will come to vote. We have a golden people, brother, I will say that. I would with him ... Well, in short, in intelligence or there, what mountains to turn ...

Why did I experience such strong feelings, despite the fact that I did not doubt it at all in such a turn of events? Hoping for something? No, unlikely. Not used to their prohibitive and, most importantly, insultingly impudent and completely open crook? But yes, I am not used to it. And I'm not going to get used to it. For it is precisely the same routine habit that they only expect from us that will be a real disaster. No, do not get used to it. We must live with a clear and unshakable understanding that there is a norm and that there is a pathology, we must live with a starry sky above your head and with a moral law within us.

And everything will be in order with us, I'm sure. These are they are temporary, but we are constant. We live more than one or even two presidential terms. We live in history in history. And the story will be more authentic than three or even four presidential terms. She is even longer, it’s scary to say, Putin in addition with this, like him ... well, who is true for four years, like a pioneer from Panteleev’s story “Honestly,” a presidential chair guarded and warmed. So with a chair they now have everything in perfect order for a while. But with everything else ...

These days everyone ask each other: "What will happen?" I don't know what will happen. I am not a fan of forecasts, and life has repeatedly made it clear to me that it, life, is still bizarre than all the forecasts of the most perspicacious forecasters.

Maybe it will be the same as now. Maybe worse. But I know that when they strengthen the vertical too much without taking into account the soil on which this vertical stands, this vertical can collapse overnight. And it remains only to hope that she does not crush those who are below too much.

For myself, for my nearest and not even nearest circle, I'm not particularly worried. We are already there. Those that are. And no vertical will make us others.

But for the children I am still worried, imagining how they will comprehend the etiquette norms of their native language on the examples of "chewing snot" and "cutting, so that it does not grow." How they will constantly see in front of them in portraits the boring face of the district opera with rotten eyes. How they will learn morality by examples of ethics of gangways and common funds. Like the operated arrears, the nests falling out of Yakemenkov will teach them how to love their homeland and freedom. How they will force them to stuff with a rogue incense and assureing that these are the "foundations of Orthodox culture." How they will explain who exactly they should thank for their happy childhood, carefully protected from the machinations of evil uncles from NATO and aggressive Georgian military.

However, enough about sad. I still want to finally tell something funny. Well, at least that.

My friend recently told how she and her friends once drove to someone's cottage. In the train. With children. It was quite far from going. At some point, she valiantly decided to sacrifice herself and took the children to let adults calmly talk to each other for a long time. She put the children closer to the window and began to improvise, using the inscriptions and posters flashing outside the window as fabulous toponyms. “We guys are now entering the Kingdom of Lukoil,” she said. “King Luke ruled in it, famous for ...” And so on. "And now, guys, we arrived with you to the principality of the" brick-cement ". It is called so because ..." Well, in general it is clear. The children sat quietly, like enchanted. And suddenly, on the roof of a large structure, they saw an inscription that struck not only children, but also adults. There, in huge letters, "Empire ***" was written. When one of the adults realized that this was just the "Empire of the kitchen", where "K" fell, "" had "disappeared, and only one hopeless *** remained, all broke into a thunderous liberating laugh. And this semantically vague, but from this only even more seductive and expressive " *** " firmly entered the speech everyday life of her and her friends. "What is this for *** such?" Or “well, and all other *** ,” they say for one or another occasion. And the formula "Empire *** " is not a universal and practically exhaustive designation of that social-state system, that aggregate state in which our country is now residing?

N-yes ... It seems that it did not work out fun. But nothing, another time somehow.

Leo Rubinstein

Source: facets