In the Kremlin

Combine with a miletic

October 27, 2011 Vladimir Nadein

The country already squatted under the hail of those nonsense that Putin and Medvedev were lying with a shaft. Either the oxenchik is plunged, then an iPhone, or suddenly on a blue eye, will be declared a creeping state coup by not power, not an immense greed, not a fear of responsible for the deed, but exclusively innate habit of "bring the work that has begun to the end." To what end? Until they collapse Russia into seven geographical crash? Or until they build communism on a market basis?

Many well -intentioned citizens who are not inclined to revolutionary impulses are in a hurry to convey to both bosses, which is impossible. In the expressions of the exquisitely polite, on the very edge of the Byzantine flattery, they hastily explain that from crazy amphoras on the seabed, from the standards of dummies, from cool driving on corn harvesting combines of electoral, much less harm than harm.

Our lovely leaders, well -intentioned citizens wave with fluffy tails - you are our beloved tandems! Some miserable three to four months separate you from twelve years of paradise bliss. After March and before the end of centuries there will be no elections and opponents. Even Churov, what an indispensable creature, it will be possible to drive under the bench without regrets. Well, tolerate. Well, finally strain your gyrus at least a little. Well, from what such a Baudun brought you far to the south to clean corn, and even at a private enterprise? Your persons, together with the latter, miraculously preserved cobs (other long removed), guarded the division of selected archers. They drove into your field tent, having previously passed through a metal detector specially delivered from Moscow, dozens of bureaucrats petrified with fear with the near and distant district. According to a dusty loose plantation, mourning about shoes from the best Italian designers, abandonedly wandered from a dozen deduced correspondents. Yes, you made a cool advertisement to the agricultural company, some kind of sweet local party bosses, but at what cost? In order to show you to viewers for the assaults for the assaults of the combines, the best technical specialists of the Stavropol Territory were in advance and tinted the selected cars, put a new rubber and adjusted a special equipment for filming, after which the combines became like special equipment with flashing lights. They were then taken away and taken under round -the -clock control of the Federal Security Service. All this is a lot of money. Very large. But this is secondary. The main thing is that this is the money of a not -so -striped company, not the Stavropol Territory and, of course, not your personally. This is the money of taxpayers. You collected a run of 12 tons of corn around, and this cost the treasury of the Russian Federation, the smallest, 12 million rubles.

Slightly translating the spirit, Putin's adherers and Medvedev fans would continue this way:

So it historically happened that our country was rarely revered by the center of universal wisdom. Even if you agree that the radio was invented by Michurin with Lomonosov, some warnings remain. But nevertheless, to consider all the Russians by all -round idiots - this is some exaggeration. Of course, in Russia there are many those whom Vladimir Vladimirovich recently gently called "ordinary people." And he also said that "an ordinary person always has a choice." Always! Well, like that storekeeper from a poor collective farm: let the pantry empty-empty, still the storekeeper will find what to steal. There are many millions in Russia of such storekeepers. However, despite the titanic activity of central television, a couple of tens of millions and such citizens who have not lost their ability to count on their fingers have been preserved. They will bite one finger to count the daily salary of the tractor driver. Then they will need all the fingers on the arms and legs of the advanced Stavropol state farm to count the salary and content of the tandem. And then, although the livestock man, although the crop, may have an unhealthy idea to wave without looking, as they say at the front. I mean, you - for the helm of the combine, tear corn, and combineer with good eyes - to the Kremlin. The amount of rollbacks will not change from the change of registration sites. Russia will maintain stability, and this, as you said more than once, for you above all.

And finally, reducing the voice to a completely servile whisper, the loyal Putinoid will post a painful and suffered recommendation:

Our dear president and prime minister! Or, more precisely, our dear prime minister and president! Horseradish here will figure out which of you is who, but not the problem. The main thing is that you sit quietly. Do not flicker, do not fuss, do not lean out. Sit in the offices in your offices - you will go for the wise. You like the domestic commodity corn harvester - after the elections, you will roll out in the Kremlin. But do not say a word on television, God forbid you! If you really see, you can nod your head a little or thin your lips approvingly. But silently, I beg you, silently! If a badminton Volan flies by inadvertently, pretend that he has nothing to do with you. Well, like Timchenko with Abramovich. What, they say, Timchenko? What is Volan? I have not seen, I don’t know, I didn’t. Having broken yourself and after a pause for only four months, you will secure yourself almost eternal bliss on a non -alternative basis. Only you will be on the screens of all the teliks, only yours will be Gazprom, and the generous Kadyrov will present you with a corn harvester of pure gold and in full size.

Although I do not relate myself to the number of devoted adherents of Alfa-Samets and his impatient puppy, in the above recommendation synthesized by me from the materials of the pro-government press, there is a lot of simple truth. It would be better if they were silent than the vitative. It would be better to sit than wandered back and forth. The trouble, however, is that no, even well -intentioned recommendations with a critical shower never and under no circumstances reached the ears of the country's top leadership. And not because it bites the bit and deliberately rushing across history. No, it has long been living in an atmosphere of heavenly information heaps.

The Libyan tyrant and thieves Muamar Gaddafi, seconds before the crowd was torn to pieces, asked in bewilderment: why did you make me bad? The disgusting reptile Elena Chausheska, a worthy friend of her ruthless spouse, an hour before the execution with disgust, pushed the officer dinner from her with the words: in our Romanian army, they do not feed the dog.

They did not pretend. For many decades, they inspired themselves that the people adore them, and whoever was not - those enemies and renegades. Only those who masterfully mixed the fragrant nonsense with small icys of truth were selected in the Kholui servants, but so that this narcotic cocktail of power is invariably pleasant to taste. The words of the cynical, prudent V. Surkov about the mercy of God, who sent Putin to Russia is not a reservation at all, flying out of the lips of the adherent in a fit of uncontrolled passion. This is an accurate reflection of the Byzantine atmosphere of the Putin court, where sophisticated flattery has long become the main engine of career.

You can be quite sure that the shameful ovation at the Faculty of Journalism of the Moscow State University, and the gloomy bitterness of the rational public after the Putin interview with three central television channels, and some circus skating of the two leaders of the country around one corn plantation-all this is celebrated as a great success. The people are delighted, especially the "ordinary man." This was reported to each of the leaders that evening in a dry protocol form, based on sociological documents, and confidentially, in the ear in the ear, with reference to irresistible personal impressions. And although our couple has no real competitors for a long time, the courts, TV and the police have been cleaned, but Putin and Medvedev easily believed: no, these are not security forces with clubs forced the bastards to bite their hooves towards the sea. This, Vova and Dima, Dima and Vova harvested a legitimate crop of popular love for irresistible, like tachanes, combines with flashing lights.

Photo by RIA Novosti