📖September 8th, 2023
🦈There is such an anecdote: standing in front of the mirror is a pimple, sweaty, smelly freak, with dirty dandruff-covered hair, in a crumpled old short-sleeved shirt, in shorts, and sandals worn on socks. He stands, looks at himself, and repeats: "I'm a shit (sounds like a "chmo" in Russian), I'm a chmo, I'm a chmo, I'm a chmo." From the next room, his mother shouts: "How many times should my son tell you, not a chmo, but a macho."
Today has outdest to many others in terms of its degree of disgust. I'll start from afar. Usually in crime movies, books and pop culture, criminals as antagonists appear as courageous testosterone males who dress with a needle, and can easily discharge the clip of the gun with their eyes closed into the seven of spades lying under the pillow in the next room. Such machos seem to be harsh and fair honest Robin Hoods in terms of concepts that are cooler, more effective, and faster than the law. Like here they are - real men, live according to the laws of honor and justice, will protect the widow and the weak, punish the scum-coundree. In short, after watching such bullshit, we then get a brood of children who want to be as cool and fair as Don Vito Carleone, or at least as cool crazy boys as Sasha Bely, the prototype of which is said to be Sylvester, the leader of the Orekhovskaya gang, aka Angarsk maniac Mikhail Popkov, a werewolf who was in the form of a policeman, who is in the top 4 in the world ranking of serial killers in terms of the number of victims. Just in case, I remind you that then Popkov imitated his death, and reincarnated in a new werewolf, only in a cassock. Pronin's operation "Werewolves in uniform" spoiled the image of the policeman's infallibility. Pronin himself was then framed by a set-up in the form of Evsyukov. Therefore, Popkov decided to become just a saint - Patriarch of the Old Believers Orthodox Church, Cornelius Titov. In Russia, paternalistic fatalism is the basis that brings darkening to the ignorant mind of the layman. The wolf can cut sheep right in the church without being ashamed of anything. On the contrary, believers "priests" will still prove that this is now a new trend in the liturgy.
What do these disgusting details say? Yes, about the fact that films idealizing criminals are shot with the money of the criminals themselves, this is a banal PR campaign. Serial killers in them appear in the image of almost holy just masters of the world. But what is happening in real life, and what I personally face, and other people who know the unsightly picture of the daily business of these "semplates" is so disgusting, awful, and nauseating that if at least one film about serial killers was shot honestly about what their life really looks like, instead of popcorn at the entrance to the cinema it would be necessary to distribute bags for vomit, as in airplanes. I'll give just two examples of what an ordinary day of two peppers of one from a cosa nostra and the second from the Orekhovskaya organized criminal group looks like. If you've already eaten tightly, it's better not to read it, otherwise it will turn it out.
In short, there was such a Genovese dick in the cosa nostra in the United States. He had a life sentence opportunity, and he pretended to be a psycho so as not to go to prison. He was fed almost around the clock by the police, and at the first flashes of consciousness he would immediately go for life sentencing.
Genovese wandered the streets in a bathrobe and slippers, talking to parking meters. On one of the shooters, Genovese chose one of the juniors in rank as his mouthpiece, but did not say a word for the whole meeting. During the meeting, he put his bare foot on the table, and began to cut his nails, cut his fingers, and blood flowed from the cuts. After the meeting, Genovese's acting skills were believed by all those present, who decided that he went really crazy. Great fate, that's exactly what you wanted for yourself and your child, dreaming of becoming a cool member of the cosa nostra clan, obviously. If this is not convincing enough, then here is the second example - a stinky opossum, who is currently serving his labor service in the apartment I inherited, pretending to be my murdered father, the news of which I received from the investigation. The stinky possum does not lose hope, hoping that I will die before the investigation ends, so he also pretends to have lost his memory, speech, frontal lobes of the brain and nape, about half a cent of the muscles, and the whole penis as a result of a stroke. Fck, science has never known such rare symptoms. The stinky walks along the entrance in panties, does not wash, does not shave, does not comb, playing all at the same time - a stroker, an alcoholic, and a schizophrenic with loss of memory and speech. In order for me to die faster, the stinky pours his hellish chemistry from the hernipreads everywhere he can reach, including my personal belongings and BOOST documentation. Really, when I made the BOOST website a couple of years ago, which had a photo of a girl who clamps her nose over something smelly and poisonous, I didn't know that I would definitely get into the topic. As I now remember this vanilla shit from standard publications in social networks: "what are we going to do with toxic assets" - increase value, and blablabla. Guys, remember the one thing - toxic assets they are not about value management
at all. Let this shit go, and believe me - there will be an ocean of shit. Just swim and even don't try to dive. So now, 9 years after the start of my business, I answer: wash, dry and ventilate, then number, sign and put on balance. No more than 15 minutes a day, and only in a spacious room with a through air flow. In a chemical protection suit.
I left the most juicy detail for those who still want to become like Sasha Bely from the series "Brigade." The stinky opossum interfered with his fucking stinch with his own urine, which he pissed in a three-liter jar. This explosive mixture of his urine and mustard gas, Sergei Mikhailovich Shumilov poured on the sofa brought by Shumilova Tatiana Vladimirovna into this flat, and where I was highly recommended to sleep. When I discovered the source of the stench, and demolished the soft part for examination (really - the perfect proof, as in the old joke about the inscription "the king-fool": the urine of the Duke of Buckingham, and the handwriting of the Queen), the stinky began to pour his urine with the mustard gas (just to remind: it is in liquid form) under the door so that it flowed into the corridor from which I am not separated by another door. And he poured urine with mustard gas on the stairs of the ladder standing in the corridor. Using it, the loving "daddy" barricaded the door from his "favorite daughter." Well, for sure, you dreamed of such a career for yourself or your child, wanting to become cool like Sasha Bely and his Orekhov prototypes. Mix an urine with a mustard gas, and play a schizophrenic.
Honestly, having collected today the flushes and swabs of urine with mustard gas from all the smelly puddles, the bathroom, taking samples of claws, fur, green purulent snot, skin scraping from ulcers from the dogs, and making a request to the SES for analysis of where to bring a suitcase of shit and a bucket of a mixture of urine with mustard gas, I'll tell you so. If you imagine the work of a lawyer as a dude who receives a lot of money for drawing up a standard application in a clean office in a freshly cleaned suit, then your ideas about the profession of s lawyer are akin to the idea of the image of a fair tractor driver from the Nizhny Novgorod region Sylvester and Vito Corleone according to the version of pop culture. That is, they are in a roughly different universe in relation to what is happening in real life.
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