In the grip of the cartoon

Amateur performances on Okhotny Ryad

The phrase “enraged printer” regarding the feverish activity of the Duma, offering more and more radical prohibition measures against that, fifth and tenth, in the main way, against abroad, is spectacular. But, like everything spectacular, it stops attention at the meaning of the intermediate. If you peer, the brightness of the picture, of course, fades, and the effect is primarily brightness, flash. A furious printer is a comedic, sarcastic image, but essentially harmless, like a grin over someone who does not notice a disorder in his clothes. Whereas a set of measures is not at all infuriated, but quite thought out, only in an unexpected direction. Well, as if the requirement of the guards for those who are included in the institution make a complete turn on one leg like ballet. Actually, the condition is innocent, but the scrolling goes further, already dumbfounded, confused. With a joke, the conditions, the stupid of what happened humiliated. What he appeared for, he sets out unintelligible than he was ready. His confusion, uncertainty causes mockery, neglect.

This is a technique, a bent, presumably, even in ancient civilizations. In the 7th grade, a fountain pen was given to me. Soviet, factories "Cultoprom", the article "School". In 1950, it was a gadget, where it is like surpassing all the current iPads. A letter without poking in an inkwell, without, in fact, ink. They pumped into a rubber spray once before, unrelated with the process of scripture. The pen flowed over all the connectors, I bought a rubber attack used for cuts for her in a pharmacy. School jackets were the same color as ink, blue on blue, count, imperceptibly. Father, examining her, said: "Yes, not an eternal pen." But the main thing was not the quality, but the fact that it can be worn in the upper pocket, outside, and they all see it. Much later, I heard from Akhmatova about one such dandy: "Then the toothbrush." I needed to buy some nonsense, notebook, it was possible in the street kiosk-I went to the “passage”: crowds of people moved along it, it made sense to show them what real sophistication was. I was surrounded by three guys of my age, for a second they fell to me and scattered. I grabbed the pocket - empty. He rushed behind the nearest, whose back still flashed into the crowd. He clutched his shoulder, turned it around, shouted: “Give it up! Give it up! " He began with “what are you?!”, Then through his teeth: “Not with me.” I continued to scream, he took out my treasure from somewhere, put it to me, spoke, as it seemed to me, perhaps, friendly: “Be a man”-and disappeared.

Then it was not very hidden, widely branched fishing in Leningrad. Small groups of youngsters attacked so on loners, took something away, scattered. The elders followed them - to accept prey in order to smear if they come across. To send for the cost of the most dead and, if you smile him, it arises: “Why are you pestering the baby?!” A classmate on the way to school excitedly told me how he got into such a redistribution on the eve, thought they would cut a razor, but people walked past, suddenly a guy of “about seventeen years old” appeared and said: “And you go with him (pointed to the kid) to the gateway and throw the zibduli.” I knew that the word was pronounced not so, and I knew how it should be correctly, but I liked Zibduli, I did not fix it. About ten years later he suddenly remembered with what respectful aspiration he laid out the “seventeen” - like “seventy”.

The proposal to close the Internet and instead to open another cultural industry called “Cheburashka” is a phenomenon of the same order. I don't know anything about Cheburashka, except that there was such a cartoon. Although the acquaintance with whom we discussed this new project asked me twice: "Are you on purpose" Skopushka "?" - It turned out I did not notice it. To deprive information - of course, but also put in a humiliating position. And a corrugated helpless: now a 17- or 70-year-old elder will come out and roars: “Who are you pulling on?!” And more than that: to inspire that there will be no more humiliating and not helpless. The times when the ideas about humanity proceeded from the fact that, say, in “War and Peace”, people do not only themselves, sympathize with one another, speak politely (not always, not everywhere, but usually) - ended. There is no “war and peace”. You like to read - there is a set of Duma decisions, read. There is power, it is also violence - and subordination, it is ideally gulag.

Old people love to brag: I remember, they say, nine hundred shaggy. But I want to remember when we were finished reading and carried away by politics, and I can’t. True, there were no politicians in the USSR - how much, including sexual relations: they were recognized, but within the framework of the biology textbook. So when the regime ordered to live long, it was even pleasant to become a new “politician”. On the scale of the entrance, bus. Moreover, it is necessary to know for this nothing really, and what's in newspapers. And two or three newspapers-where to get the time to the book? Then, perhaps, it broke. And now, who “Mowgli” has read and easily pronounces Banderte, is that intellectual is unthinkable.

The old man accepts everything agravatedly. You can take root in trouble, adversity, even troubles when people cause them. People are subject to changes, the misanthrope Kholostyak finds his wife, the racist learns that his ancestors are Jews, a rich stingy is ruining. But the authorities are not interested in anything other than itself. The meaning of power is to manifest himself, the meaning of manifestation is to do something so that everyone feels that it is power, but he is not. Life, even the longest (do not count, no, no, from the real terms now), is very short, very. Moreover, for the most part, this is, as you know, labor and illness. But no one still came to mind that she would still outstand the attacks of such amateur performances as on Okhotny. And not some abstract-state, but women or Bolshevik, aimed at the specific private people unknown to them. I do not keep personal evil in my heart, but I will never love to love. Say: we need your love, worm! Oh, don't boast ...