The Blog

A semi-automatic washing machine was also bought, and the so necessary drill-grinder-and-welding-machine arrived in the workshop shed.

And when KT employees came to the village offering access to the Internet, I was the first to sign the contract for the minimum speed connection because of its reasonable price, since construction costs absorbed the lion's share of my budget…

Letters began to come to my email box from girls who lived in various countries, yet were alike in being very rich, potentially, none of them worth less than 10 million dollars.

Each girl had her own sad story why she was unable to draw those millions from her bank account without the attributes of my ID and bank account, where she would transfers it to, the money, so that we could split the millions conveniently.

Guess what? I never had a bank account and, most reluctant to lose communication with the girls, I began spinning yarn about being sentenced for life (absolutely wrongly, by the bye, because of a terrible judicial error). However, I somehow managed to hack the Wi-Fi password of the Prison Director and our electronic correspondence brightens up my wretched misfortune… But the heartless bitches did not buy my sentimental stories and every single one dropped sending their letters to my prison cell…

Then Emma alerted me on the social network Facebook *

(*In 2022 the organization was found guilty of terrorism and their activities banned on the territory of the Russian Federation.)

as a popular means of communication.

I signed up, but never bothered anyone with the request to be my FB friend, because of being too shy and bashful. No, yeah, except for the request to Emma to see what button is for what there, you know.

Still and yet, by the time when FB blocked my account forever, I had 350 friends and 45 followers.

Not surprisingly though! Every day I posted 2 pictures from Yezznaggomer and the parallel worlds…

My frictions with FB were triggered off by the pandemia.

For me, as a person, who thru all their life lived in a police state (except for my stretch in Yezznaggomer Village), it would be certainly a shame not to see that I, like any other resident of this here planet, was being driven into a global concentration camp prodded by the fictitious pandemia and divers other brainwashing tools.

I did not conceal my disgusted indignation, and FB inescapably erased my calls for vigilance as an, assumably, obnoxious stuff violating the community rules.

Then they (who?) over there (where?) apparently got fretted with my perseverance and I was kicked out because, allegedly (they were the allegators), someone had staged suspicious activities about my account from the city of Belgorod (Russia) and now, for the sake of security, I should insert a picture of my passport into their alert message and press the button.

I inserted it in and felt a profound pleasure from their care for my security, however, the feeling did not last long for they (who?) in a minute informed me that it was not me and my passport in the picture was not mine either.

Hey, you (who?)! Over there (where?)! Are you (who?) barking mad?!.

But how and to whom can I prove a shred of anything, if It never discloses Its address?

The verdicts issued from who knows where reach you in the one-way manner, anonymously, on behalf of all the community. Could you have the nerve enough to kick against billions of users, huh?

So, my account stayed blocked, and now I don’t even know what happened to it.

It's a pity, of course, 5 years of rural life, people, animals, plants, clouds, flowers, stones… 2 pictures a day.

I counted on FB as an additional storage space. Alas, everything went to the hell, because soon the hard drive with the photos melted.

My bad! I should have stored the pics on Google Disk or made a backup laser disk copy!

But I have no complaints about Zuckenberg and I don’t call him a “f@cking b1tch” in the manner of certain irresponsible FB users.

The life experience prompts me that the Mister is nothing but another of showcase dolls like, say… (no! no! no! I haven’t uttered anything of the sort!. it’s not me! and not about Him! never! God give Him health without bounds and now, and forever, and for all His further presidential terms…)

When you don't have a musical ear, you can't really count on the careers of Bach, Van Cliburn or Tatiana Bulanova. More so if you don’t have a voice either, and your feel of tempo fails, at times.

But if you do want it? So really badly?

Then you download and install Muscore, audacity and other software of your preference, and you buy a $2 plastic microphone used for Skype or Zoom, and you set up a YouTube account named Studio Village.

Haha! Long live the Internet! Hooray YouTu.. what the fuck?! One of the numbers produced by painful efforts of all the Studio staff does not download…

Not a big deal for a seasoned Internet user here, you just contact the support service and, on exchanging 2-3-4 mails, you figure out the sequence of buttons to be pushed to get to where you should type in some shit or another. Smart boy! You have built up one more muscle in understanding software materiel!

But on YouTube, such numbers simply do not work, to won the right of contacting the support service, please present 1000 subscribers to your channel.

Who do they think I am? Damn Bach? Or fucking Tatiana Bulanova?

Okay (to quote the locomotive rumbling over Anna Karenina), take it easy…

However, when that same YouTube wiped out one of the Studio's artifacts because by that my anti-war number I violated the rules of the YouTube Community, it wafted a pretty familiar stink.

HEYAA!. WELCOME! ZERO ON YOUR PASTIME AT THE GLOBCAMP!

(Persons of different orientations, are requested to use applicable entry gates by pressing appropriate buttons:

[|_ Twitter |_]: (tweet your chirp!),

[|_ LinkedIn |_]: (your glorious career just a button-click off!),

[|_ Instagram |_]: (You! Are! So! Beautiful! To you!!),

[|_ Tik-Tok |_]: (fik-fuck-fec & pookie-lookie!),

see more…)

Nothing doing, I made a U-turn from the U-tube gate and deployed the anti-war copy on https://vimeo.com/727663083, while that platform had not yet been bought out by Google for the global edification of shepherded communities.

(For those over-keen and quick-witted, I admit:

1) yes, the first 4 lines in the opus were stolen from the film “Two Comrades At Their Hitch” (1968); and

2) no, the number was uploaded to Vimeo March 17, 2019, 3 years before the Special Operation of Russia against Ukraine.)

Another social network, discovered later on, called themselves LitProm, A Dutiful Guard of Spirituality on the Internet.

Well, I registered to see their standpoint on spirituality and who they defend it from: from the base bestiality raising its head more and more? or they man prison towers with the machine guns turned to cover the inside perimeter?.

Bro! It’s more than crystal clear there! Admire the Union of Writers of the USSR in a fresh present-wrapping a-spangle!.

And no need to flex your detectivity. They boast of it! Heedlessly.

But if their Head (Chairman) is a proxy of the President in his appoint-oneself-to-the-post elections, there is no need for deeper checking – a natural All-Union Union, for you.