I have said before that no metaphor is possible that would not sooner or later reveal the ability, and even the powerful need, for its own materialization. And here you go. Nowadays, a fairly common and, alas, suspiciously plausible comparison of a not-major, but critically visible part of Russian society with the contingent of the yellow house has turned from a metaphor into a sad reality. And the patients unanimously attacked the psychiatrist with their fists (virtual, for now, thank God).