📖August 24, 2023.
🦈If you ask any person to draw a non-existent monster invented by him (there is such an unscientific psychological test, like as the horoscope of the Globa spouses), the person will create a "fictitious non-existent monster" simply by putting together the constructive elements of animals known to man. What a person has never seen will not be in the picture. This effect is already scientifically described in the article "Tropes of slang." Linguists study this phenomenon in even more detail and deeply. What is the practical application for this substance, which is deposited only by hemoglobin and nothing else? Well, of course, first of all, criminalistics. Before you get the ace out of your sleeve, you have to put it there. And if a person has never spoken Amharic, he will not quote books, poems or religious publications from there.
What is the deaf and stupid Orekhov's gang brother actually scorching on? That's what it's scorching on. The fact is that a person develops stable neural connections in the brain. They are described in simple language in a book about Huckleberry Finn, who tried to dress up as a village girl. These neural connections (reflexes, behavioral habits, vocabulary, and other features) sit so tightly in a person's head that they betray the actual essence of Klim Chugunkin. You can dress up a prostitute from Beverly Hills in a dress from Osquare de la Renta, but she will still call escargo slippery bastards and will not be able to eat it. For example, about a year ago, the Orekhov's "daddy," who doesn't even know how to spell my name, rubbed me how the parents are proud and cry from the success of the Black Pink band, and I'm kind of worthless shit he's ashamed of. Then I cried so much that my father treats me like that, and with what relief I know that this meager bastard is nobody to me. But in addition to these humiliating and offensive maxims that this convict living in an apartment under the guise of my murdered father wrote to me (fcking Makarenko was found), he kind of wrote to me about, by the way that I should keep silent about my "abortions" at all. I mean those two incidents of 1997 (medabortion after rape) and the story in 31st Moscow City Clinical Hospital in 2008. But there's such a thing here that I've never told anyone about them at all, but only a few people knew the 2008 case. So the Orekhovo-Cocosovo bastard knew about "abortions," although my father didn't know about them. By the way, the same Alina Protsenko brought me in 1997 to the cafe "Zhuravushka" where the Samara frostbitten brother hanged around, one of whose bastards awarded me with a heroin embryo, it is the same Alina Protsenko, whom I then found living in my apartment, and thanks to whom I had postoperative adhesions in the small basin. So since the "daddy" knew about it, it means that this invaluable life experience I was rewarded by the same fathers under the guidance of artistic director Popkov. Really, people are scorching on trifles. In 2020, the criminal investigation dude who interviewed me regarding Ramazanova's criminal case asked: where did you get such friends? How was it possible to gather all this shit for you? Me? I'm nowhere. Honestly. This Orekhov's brotherhood adjusts my life deivering such persons into my life. Friends and Family is their skate.
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