Project: nineties
(Game conditions are here .)
KS: new Russians, sex
Culturologist Tsaplin and his new Russian friend Zelinsky sat in the “OGI Project” on Mayakovskaya and talked about women.
“I met a wonderful girl here,” said Zelinsky, “she got in, and I pulled her out.”
- In what sense - hit? - Tsaplin did not understand.
- Well, several drunken bulls were going to fuck her, but she clearly didn’t want that. I saved her.
- And fucked.
- Certainly. But that was another matter.
The lanky and awkward Zelinsky said thoughtfully:
“I never thought that I could build five brothers with only vodka and sperm in their heads.”
- How did you manage to do this?
“Yes, it’s simple,” Zelinsky said phlegmatically, “the main thing is to puzzle them.”
- In terms of?
And then, without changing his relaxed posture, Zelinsky barked:
- HOW MUCH IS TWICE TWICE?Tsaplin was taken aback, and a waitress passing by almost dropped the tray.
“You see,” said Zelinsky, “he even works with you.” There you just need to ask different questions, but the general mechanism is the same.
And after a pause, he added:
- I wonder if I had known ten years ago how this would end - would I have started doing business at all?
Project: the nineties, by the way, will also end someday. So hurry up and put your two cents in the piggy bank:
NameFeedback
I don’t understand when I wrote about this, but several readers clearly responded to my note about the monument. Sergey Nemalevich wrote:
Despite the simple psychologism of the situation, a purely aesthetic impression is left by the face of a familiar celebrity when, passing by, you point at him with a finger (and some even with a finger) with the words “but, by the way, ....” This is how people become part of the interior; I wonder whether monuments should be part of the interior.
And Lev Pir (probably “ogov”) wrote a wonderful poem:
Oh how many different intrigues we have
Arranged by the Black man! ..
But now it’s standing and freezing
In winter and summer in a jacket.
Pop without Parker
After I was advised not to write anymore about uh... one thing and uh... another, I decided to write about advertising and pop music. I’ve already written about advertising, and today I’m talking about music.
Did the song of the group - or an individual person - make a strong - one might say aesthetic - impression on me? - called (by name) Valdai. Of course, it looks more like the name of the group, but Russian performers will at least be called Kizhi.
The first thing that caught my attention was the line about the birch tree that my father cut down for firewood during a drinking session. The line is obviously textbook (although I remember the rowan tree, I still couldn’t find the text on the Internet that I knew in my youth - all the ones I came across are very different from the one I was looking for, despite the fact that yes, there is rowan in all of them), but if you take into account, that before that, on the same compilation disk there was a song based on Akhmatova’s poems, that’s still half the battle. But what finally finished me off was the chorus, thanks to which this song ends up on NasNet:
I send letters to the Internet
I'm sending an answer by email
Megabytes are not reaching the server
I'm typing this site again
Double, double, double
<inaudible> dot ru
I love, I love, I love
Russian girl
Or "brown". Both options, in my opinion, are equally good and provoke options about a German girl or a black-haired girl... however, Iggy Pop and David Bowie turned out to be quite cute about a Chinese girl.
The plot of the song itself, in addition to the folklore prototype, evokes the well-known poem about “either something is coming from the back of our bed, they say, a gate, or a gate” ( NB : note to the philologist - on the question of the influence of urban folklore on Brodsky).
Let's return, however, to Valdai. After listening to the chorus the required number of times - until the song ended - I still could not make out the address. My wife Katichka suggested that the song was “Chamonix dot ru” - about the famous ski resort, no less. But I didn’t believe it, I asked for the disc and read the title of the song (at the same time the name of the artist) - www.germany.ru .
Unfortunately, there is no further interest. When you go to the specified address, you actually find a site dedicated to Russians in Germany. You can obviously set up mail there, and it probably has a web interface. From there, the strange collision of the chorus is explained - why, when sending letters, the hero waits for a response not in Outlook Express, but on the website www.germany.ru . He started a mailbox there - either because he lives in Germany, or in honor of his girlfriend who left. According to the text, the second is more likely: “I missed you, dear, now you are far away in a foreign land, you left, as if not knowing that it would be difficult without each other” - however, who knows, Valdai, maybe I misheard, and he sings: “I missed you, dear, in a foreign land; now you are far away, I left, as if not knowing that it would not be easy without each other.” In short, he cannot contact his mailbox (“megabytes are not reaching the server”) and tries again and again to view mail via the web (“I’m typing this site again.”)
You can read the entire lyrics of the song, as well as read the commentary, which I would like to call - in his style - “moronicly funny” here .
Aesthetic impressions
D.P. sent me a wonderful story whose characters I want to become closer friends with:
I don't know how well this story fits into the category of aesthetic impressions, but I thought it was funny enough to share.
We were sitting - it was three days ago - eating veal tail soup. A certain P., generally distinguished by an enviable appetite and the desire to always finish everything he could eat, having finished the soup, pulled the tail onto his plate and began to disassemble it in search of meat. A pile of cartilage and vertebrae soon formed on the plate, which led the others to the idea that it would be nice to put all this back together into a whole tail.
Someone J. thoughtfully said that in general, it would be nice to eat both the grass from the lawn and the cow that grazed on it, and then, from the remains and excrement, recreate both the cow and the lawn. Someone D. remembered Thor's goats, which were eaten every night and reassembled from the bones every morning and revived, as well as Canadian or Alaskan Indians who, after eating salmon, threw the bones back into the river so that new salmon would grow from them (on them?) . Everyone complained that times are not the same now and that such magic is no longer used, and, probably, does not work...
Here P., who until that time had been occupied exclusively with his tail and had not taken part in the conversation, raised his eyes and said: “Well, of course! We’re selling beer bottles!”
Yuliy from Los Angeles also shared his impressions:
A small shop.
The TV on the wall is loud. A man approaches the counter, puts down chips, milk and takes out money.
An advertisement starts on TV. They show a woman with a hole in her throat, apparently left after some terrible operation. She, whistling with this hole, says that she smoked for many years, she was going to quit, she couldn’t, but now she doesn’t need to...
The man stares at the screen and slaps his forehead.
“And cigarettes,” he says to the seller. -I almost forgot about cigarettes!
Obviously this is a response to the advertising notes. And also - on Tyutchev’s famous poems about what we cannot predict.
Nevertheless, I will take the liberty of encouraging you to write new impressions should they appear:
NameThe riddle posed several issues ago (whose monument this is and who built it) was solved by only one person - a former employee of the legendary Segodnya and Russian Telegraph, once a Moscow resident and now a London resident and Bloomberg employee, Vladimir Todres. Yes, Vladimir, you are right: this is Brodsky, and the sculptor, of course, is Tsereteli.
Congratulations. You can receive the prize upon arrival in Moscow.