Were not were

Happens to everyone

The entertainer announces: “Now the well-deserved and somewhere even popular, among all foreign rabble, our famous and beloved bath-and-laundry singer Razdvaplyuev will perform with his unfading hit “I messed up your life.”

A perky boy a la Basque jumps out onto the stage, dressed as a pastoral shepherd boy. He waves his arms, the orchestra plays an energetic overture and freezes. Razdvaplyuev turns his back to the audience, lowers his pants and, bending down, exposes his bare ass for everyone to see, from which he loudly blows gases. Hall applauds.

After speaking behind the scenes on the sidelines, Razdvaplyuev sincerely admits: “I did everything I could. There just wasn’t enough for more.” Fans applaud him and assure him that it was real art.

This is how it happens with everyone. You think it’s art. And look closely – one good thing.

That is how we live

Numbers are funny. It turns out that almost 2 people die every second, or rather 104 per minute. 6250 per hour, 150,000 per day. 54,750,000 per year.

At this rate of mortality, it will take 47.5 years for one generation to die and 142.5 years for humanity to be completely renewed. It turns out that we are not dying fast enough; thanks to progress, we begin to live longer and longer, which means that the achievement of active longevity is not far off, when you can live without old age: it is to live fully, and not to live out.

At the same time, one person produces 145 kilograms of feces per year, and all of humanity produces 1,131,000,000 tons of shit per year. We produce even more garbage – 3,120,000,000,000 tons. We all live in a huge landfill. Where we bury our dead. We bury or burn 4,106,250 tons of dead flesh every year.

In fact, our civilization is a civilization of garbage dumps. The thicker the cultural layer, the richer the culture. All our future we draw from the past. All our ideas are borrowed from previous generations. In the dustbin of history.

We are convinced of the progressive nature of our civilization, that it has a specific goal to achieve which it strives, while the universe around us demonstrates the aimlessness of its existence.

As Parmenides taught, the world is self-sufficient, eternal, has no beginning or end, and feeds on itself. Everything in it moves in a circle, from atoms to planets and stars. But man refuses to believe in the closed nature of world existence, he hopes to find the point of its beginning and the point of its end. In space and time.

All this is due to the fact that people live in a linear world, the personification of which is the cube. The cube is the antithesis of the ball. The cube has a beginning and an end. The cube is counted and measured. We strive to reduce any circle to a square.

This limitation of our thinking results from the limitation of human life, which has a beginning and an end in time. Which people refuse to put up with. The circle of human life is broken by the human mind. He refuses to believe that human death is the beginning of another human life. Man considers his own death as the greatest curse that must be rid of.

Man does not want to be mortal. Choosing between personal immortality and the survival of the entire human race, a person does not hesitate to choose the first. And this is very understandable. Does this remind me of something? Oh, right, I remembered.

The late architect Meyerson used to say, “I love every single person. But all together, humanity, I HATE. That is how we live.

Like lifeless

Two return from the funeral and share fresh impressions with each other.

– Gorgeous funeral. I would like to be in his place.

– And it seemed to me that the dead man did not look like himself. He lay in a coffin as if lifeless.

Lies like a navigator

I do believe in progress. Well, how could it be without him. There are different gadgets, all sorts of Google and Glonass. This is our everything! I get out, you know, from the house, I go to the bus stop and ask my navigator on the phone, like a progressive person: “When will the bus be?” He regularly shows: “In one minute.” I am waiting. A minute or two passes. There is no bus. I look at the navigator, and he regularly reports: “The bus has already been. The next one is in fifteen minutes.” And so every time. One of two things: either I don’t see the bus, or our “famous” Glonass… that still global ass! Now about all those who wishful thinking, I firmly say: “He’s lying like a navigator.”

Liar

There are people who lie as they breathe. They seem to be born to make any fiction come true. The only thing that gives them away is the details. After all, as the architect Fomin said, God is in the details. I knew one of those. He was always late for work and always found excuses: first one thing, then another. The masterpiece of his lies was the following story. Justifying his regular absenteeism, he fervently argued that he could not leave the apartment all day just because a counterweight from the elevator was put on the outside of his front door, which was changed to a new one that day. Here’s just one thing: his apartment was on the second floor, which for some reason he mentioned at the very end, trying to add credibility. But in vain. They almost believed him.

Everything ingenious is simple

A toddler helping his mother take care of his twin brothers is asked what their names are. The peanut frowns businesslike and points his finger at the brothers in turn:

– This one is called Uovka, and this one is another Uovka.

Everything ingenious is simple!

Still won

She was frighteningly beautiful and unhappy. In the depths of her blue eyes, crystals of pain froze, preventing her from smiling. Just six months ago, her husband left her and everyone at the table knew about it. Celebrated her birthday. She saw this and could not calm down, demonstrating to everyone the icy indifference of a wounded woman. Her whole appearance said that she was at war.

She had cut off her lovely frivolous curls and now sported a boyish half-box, and overly bright make-up looked like the war paint of an Indian about to scalp his enemies. Mostly relatives were sitting at the table, but this did not make it easier for her. Curiosity brought them all here to look at someone who was unlucky in love.

Only her grandfather, who did not have a soul in her, fussed around her, protecting his pet. And looking at the old trembling hands, which awkwardly tried to put a piece of “better” cake on her plate, she finally burst into tears. For the first time in six months. Love still won.

Meeting

Once, on Sretensky Boulevard, I met God himself. It was a nondescript bearded old man of a rather shabby appearance. Sitting on a bench with his eyes shut and his toothless mouth wide open.

He was overshadowed by a rose bush growing right out of his bald head. And bees flew in and out of his mouth, swarming around the multi-colored rosebuds on the old man’s spiked tiara. Amber gold of honey oozed from his eyes, and next to him, on a bench, lay a string bag with a bottle of cahors, a bible, and a loaf of bread.

“I never thought HE looked so ridiculous” was the first thing that came to my mind. I decided to see this MIRACLE of nature better and went closer to it. And unceremoniously stared at him, not at all worried that HE would notice me: his eyes were flooded.

Imagine my surprise when the old man unclenched his left fist, and in it was an eye that looked at me so that it immediately became clear that HE sees me.

“That’s what it means – self-existing and good,” – the only thing that came to my mind. I also wondered if Chukovsky snorted cocaine when he wrote his Moidodyr. There was an irresistible desire to grab the old man, the very Lord God, by the beard. In order to put into practice a well-known proverb in narrow circles.

But then the pigeons spoiled everything. And not one and white, as the iconography promises us, but a whole flock. Grey. They say about such: “Born to spoil can only fly.”

God, with his right hand, plucked a hefty piece of bread from the loaf and began to crumble it and throw the crumbs right in front of him. And then I felt these winged creatures mocking me. Organized seraglio rushed to feed.

A cloud of birds covered the old man, and when a gust of wind swept them in different directions, an empty bench appeared before my eyes. All in bird droppings. And a lonely bottle of wine, untouched by pigeons.

“Lucky, so lucky, however,” I thought, trying on a homeless drink. And then, as if hearing my thoughts, an old woman of the most domestic appearance hurriedly crossed the boulevard. And she expropriated the drink of the Old and New Testaments for her own benefit.

I had no choice but to go home empty-handed, surprised at what I saw:

“I wanted to grab God by the beard, but in fact he grabbed the devil by the shameful hair. However”.

That also happens.

Choice

The house was cold and hot. There was deafening silence in the street. The table was bursting with empty abundance. It was so bright you couldn’t see anything. I wanted to go and sit. My heart is joyful and bitter: so bitter that you laugh; so happy that immediately into the loop. Life flowed and stood. Nothing happened and everything changed. Sincerity or lies, what to choose? You don’t understand, but you have to. Is there a choice?

Nail

It’s strange, but it feels like a rusty nail is hammered into the head of each of our people at birth. Right in the hospital: so that he lives and then does not think about anything, as long as the nail in the brain rusts. At the same time, exceptions occur, one might say misunderstandings, which lead to the appearance of any undesirable intelligentsia among our people. Take, for example, a doctor-villain and, through an oversight or just out of some whim, he will drive in a baby instead of an ordinary galvanized nail, as if wishing him to brighten up his miserable life. And only then, poor fellow, he lives and suffers for the rest of his life. And, which is characteristic, the intellectuals from this everything goes into a rage and against the people. And all because this nail is galvanized: it glows, an infection, like a real antenna, receiving suggestive signals from abroad, and makes you doubt the correctness of the existence and structure of our state all the time. Instead of being like everyone else, with ordinary rusty nails in my head, I’m bullshitting and listening to the Chanson radio. Enjoy life.

Hero of our time