Yearning

The turnout, even with the percentages drawn, is slightly more than half. That is, almost fifty million did not go to the elections. It looks like the shop with universal suffrage should be closed, if only because half of them don’t need it from time to time. And for the half that, one way or another, still goes to the polling stations, it is also not particularly necessary, because it got it for free, and therefore the price is several bottles of vodka.

Here we have the right to choose: the lame, the crooked, the degenerates, the drunks, the criminals, and the psychos. To pass your license - bring a certificate from the foolproof, pass the exams, buy a hunting barrel or a traumatic gun - the same. Even permission to perform various types of activities must be confirmed, but the power to choose it is like that.

So the herd chooses a leader, and those who are smarter either lock themselves in a shell, or don’t give a damn about everything, or live with a feeling of doom until the end of their days. And the herd, bleating in unison, runs after the new leader to the slaughterhouse, barely catching its breath from the horror of the previous slaughter, and without even thinking that it would be nice to start by asking, what was that?

I look at all this vaudeville and think, to hell with it, I should have time to do more of something worthwhile and useful, so that I can finally say: the world is crap, but I cleaned it up as much as I could.