Чем закончится конфликт на Украине, или при чем здесь Триер?

Кто такая Екатерина? Или порнография, насилия, убийства, и хардкор в истории России.

Who is Ekaterina? Or pornography, violence, murder, and hardcore in the history of Russia.

Не так давно наш доблестный кинематограф выдал на телеканале Россия-1 «Екатерина» сериал в несколько серий, про ту что была второй. Сериал интересный, гламурный, героиня - в исполнении Марины Александровой - сексуально привлекательна, нарядна, почти весь фильм занята своими любовными похождениями. Вообщем - то что доктор прописал, если ты - одинокая тупая домохозяйка. Сериал кстати достаточно интересный, опять же повторюсь гламурный, но как и все остальное творчество наших деятелей культуры, не имеющий к реальности отношения. Но мне намного более интересна та Екатерина что все таки была Первой. И какой была ее судьба? К сожалению, история, самая лживая из всех возможных наук. И думать, что ты можешь понять суть каких-то событий, изучая ее, как минимум наивно. Скорее наоборот. Начнем издалека. Насмотревшись роликов в интернете я пришла к выводу что ранее на земле существовала одна цивилизация. С центром власти, или столицей расположенной на террритории современной России. В пользу этого можно отнести одинаковые архитектурные сооружения что в Африке, что на территории современной Европы. Эта цивилизация постоянно подвергалась атакам некоей другой расы. Постоянно вела войну. И в конце концов была захвачена пришельцами из вне. Ну а народ ее был почти уничтожен большим потопом. В следствии чего например, мы имеем сейчас закопанные этажи, или "Венецию". Кому интересно посмотрите в интернете много роликов на эту тему. Захватчики, сохранили жизнь некоторым представителям захваченных, назвав их "дворянами и царями". Этому есть как минимум две причины: первая - они были хранителями научных знаний этой цивилизации, не случайно науку и культуру творили именно дворяне, а вторая – остатки простых людей были готовы им подчиняться. По праву их кровного превосходства. Хотя потом конечно дворяне выродились смешавшись с пришельцами, но а тех, что оставались добили революцией. Сумев уже к тому моменту убедить нас в легитимности такой власти.Так кто же такая Екатерина? Во всяком случае та что была «Первой». Ее судьба видится мне невероятно увлекательным, хоть и хардкорным сюжетом для фильма. Тем и обидно, что сняли сей кичливый фарс про любофф Екатерины 2й, обойдя вниманием ту что первая. Итак. Представьте, есть красивая, чистая молодая девушка, пережившая травму ввиде случившегося потопа. В котором погибли все кого она знала, в том числе родители. Может и младшие сестры, братья. А сама она лишилась не только дома но и того мира в котором жила. Своей родины, своих прав, а может и памяти. Вокруг нее бегают дикие озабоченные варвары. Срущие из своих окон. Немытые и злые. Их развлечения - это оргии, пьянство, пытки. Таких как она святая инквизиция ловит, и после многодневных страшных пыток отправляет на костер. Она моет посуду в одном из трактиров этих варваров. Ее гнобят, унижают многие годы. И в конце концов все кончается групповым изнасилованием. Что завершает травму для раскола и обработки ее сознания. С тех пор в одном человеке Екатерин становится - две. Первая - та, что непрерывно страдает от происходящего, и та, для которой - все это норма, и в дальнейшем она даже соорудит установку для кекса с конем. Но при этом, эта вторая абсолютно подконтрольна воздействию из вне. И управляема представителями каганата. И вот тут то каганат за ней и приезжает. Не раньше, не позже. Понятно что для вербовки они направляют к ней таких же обработанных Петра 1 и Менщикова. Видя в них "родные души", и представителей своего арийского народа, она сначала влюбляется в Менщикова, но тот потом демонстрирует ей свое второе «я» на оргиях с Петром. Снова травма. Снова невозможность уйти от происходящего. Меньшиков «передает» ее Петру. Ну а дальше история известна. История грязная, трагичная, страшная. В дальнейшем обработка каганатом представителей дворянства, а тем более царей была поставлена «на поток». При чем под «каганатом» я не имею ввиду евреев. Они лишь один из инструментов на мой взгляд. Будь я режиссером или сценаристом, вот о чем бы я сняла интересное кино. Но домохозяйки и их интересы важнее, поэтому дружно любуемся на Александрову в рюшах…

Not long ago the series “Ekaterina” was released, a series of several episodes, about the second one. The series is interesting, glamorous, the heroine - performed by actress Marina Alexandrova - is sexually attractive, elegant, almost the entire film is busy with her love affairs. An English series starring Anne Fining is about the same thing. The series are glamorous, interesting, but like everything in our cinema, they have no relation to reality. Personally, I am more interested in the fate of Catherine the First. In the history of Russia, if anything, there were two Catherines.

After watching enough videos on the Internet, I came to the conclusion that previously there was one civilization on earth. With the center of power, or capital, located on the territory of modern Russia. This can be supported by the same architectural structures both in Africa and in the territory of modern Europe. This civilization was constantly under attack from some other race. Constantly waged war. And in the end it was captured by aliens from outside. Well, her people were almost destroyed by a great flood. As a result, for example, we now have buried floors, or “Venice”. If you are interested, watch a lot of videos on this topic on the Internet? The invaders saved the lives of some representatives of the captured, calling them “nobles and kings.” There are two reasons for this: the first is that they were the keepers of the scientific knowledge of this civilization, it is no coincidence that it was the nobles who created science and culture, and the second is that the remnants of ordinary people were ready to obey them. By right of their blood superiority. Although later, of course, the nobles degenerated by mixing with the newcomers, but those that remained were finished off by the revolution. By that time he had managed to convince us of the legitimacy of such a government. The fate of Catherine first seems to me an incredibly fascinating, albeit hardcore plot for a film. That’s why it’s a shame that they filmed a farce about the love of Catherine the 2nd, and not the first. So. Imagine there is a beautiful, pure young girl who has experienced the trauma of a flood. In which everyone she knew died, including her parents. Maybe younger sisters and brothers. And she herself lost not only her home but also the world in which she lived. Your homeland, your rights, and maybe memory. Wild, anxious barbarians are running around her. Shitting out of their windows. Unwashed and evil. Their entertainment is orgies, drunkenness, torture. People like her are caught by the Holy Inquisition, and after many days of terrible torture they are sent to the stake. She washes dishes in one of these barbarians' taverns. She has been oppressed and humiliated for many years. And in the end it all ends in gang rape. Which completes the trauma to split and process her consciousness. Since then, Catherine becomes two in one person. The first is the one who constantly suffers from what is happening, and the one for whom everything is the norm, and in the future she will even build an installation for a cupcake with a horse. She becomes subject to the influence and control of the representatives of the Kaganate, who come for her just in time. Not earlier, not later. It is clear that for recruitment they send to her the same processed Peter 1 and Menshchikov. Seeing in them “kindred spirits” and representatives of her Aryan people, she first falls in love with Menshchikov, but he then shows her his other self at orgies with Peter. Menshikov “hands over” it to Peter. Well, the rest of the story is known. The story is dirty, tragic, scary. Subsequently, the Kaganate’s processing of representatives of the nobility, and especially the kings, was put on stream. Moreover, by “Kaganate” I do not mean Jews. They are just one of the tools in my opinion. If I were a director or screenwriter, this is what I would make an interesting movie about. But housewives and their interests are more important, so we admire Alexandrova and Ann in ruffles ...

Это мое фото сделанное нейросетью на выставке "Россия" на ВДНХ. Как я бы выглядела в рабочей профессии "металлург".

My fan-art on Supernatural.. All text.

"Our last task"...

A short preface.

What is matter? And what is primary – matter or spirit? Christian doctrine asserts that matter is primary. And we have a completely bodily Christ. With his wounds, blood, death. God-man, god-body. Embodied life. Life that you can touch with your hands. A life that is demonstrable, materialized. Our entire science, despite the atheism it proclaims, is also built on faith in the body, faith in “Christ,” faith in the body, which scientists call the primary atom. That is, matter consists of molecules. Molecule made of atoms. Well, the primary atom, which in turn no longer decays into other atoms, consists of itself. Well, all modern science is built on faith in this primary atom, which does not decay into other, smaller ones. The only question is that scientists have not yet found this very atom. And any matter, upon closer examination, brazenly and with impunity continues to disintegrate into these same particles ad infinitum. In a word, we are not able to see matter. So they didn’t find it because she wasn’t there? Or are the microscopes small? One can hope for technical imperfections. There is nothing else left for us. Is the material world real? In all his defenselessness, in front of a sinner who so desires this world? Or is it available only to those who have become safe for it? And those who are dangerous, for example you and me, are left to wander forever in the labyrinth of our dreams, which we so mistakenly call life?

                       Heaven.

Sam's car slid smoothly across the gray gravel. The sun in the distance was slowly setting. Led Zeppelin was playing at full blast in Sam's car. He took a sip from the now empty bottle of whiskey, and, cursing, threw it onto the next seat. Sam slammed the steering wheel sharply and swayed to the beat of the chorus, he even sang along. The usual male hysteria. Tears flowed down his unshaven cheeks, and his hands slammed the steering wheel again and again.“Just don’t stop, just don’t stop,” was pounding in his head.

It was as if the sun, which still did not want to go into sunset, somehow depended on his movement.

Suddenly, time seemed to slow down, the picture outside the windows turned gray, as if it was already dusk, and he saw a brightly dressed prostitute standing on the highway. As if submitting to the new flow of time, without realizing it, he slowly stopped. For some time the woman, as if indecisive, still stood on the highway, timidly looking around, but then she nevertheless headed in his direction.

“She’s still almost a child,” was all he had time to think.

______

- “Look here I’m saying! "-

the elderly officer shone the light of a table lamp in his face. With great difficulty, Sam raised his bloody face. His hands were handcuffed and pressed between his knees. Sam sat hunched over, covering one eye from the bright light, and for some reason even tried to smile at the policeman. Usually this worked...

- Oh, to hell with you! “The policeman was clearly tired of this interrogation and was rubbing his right hand.- Take him away! He commanded, and a moment later Sam found himself on the floor of a dirty and dark cell. It had no bed.

- But does it really matter now? - When Dean was gone, and the sharp pain of memories again cut into the brain, tears flowed from the eyes, and that beer bar appeared before the eyes again.

                                                             __

- Our last task. Dean picked up the glass of whiskey, smiled, and poured it into himself.Sam was sober, and again and again looked around, looking for the slightest danger. He almost hated Dean for his carelessness at this moment, and was ready to swear at him.

“Just a demon girl.” “Dean added, finally stopping smiling.

- Just relax.

Well, then everything is as always. You could say it's a routine. The crunch of broken ribs, the scream of a demon. The task was actually quite easy.

Several blood stains stained the demon girl's long white shirt (who else wears something like that? he thought). She jumped, squealed, and seemed to laugh at what was happening. Sam felt her insides being torn apart and thought he would miss that feeling. He delivered the final, decisive blow. Everything was over. But suddenly Dean, who was standing next to him, swayed strangely, blood flowed from the corner of his mouth in a thin stream, and Sam saw an ax stuck in his back. Dean staggered and slowly fell to the dirty floor. Some man, having dealt him this blow, now simply stood, staring blankly at the girl’s figure.

No need to explain what happened next. Sam dealt with him quite easily, it seemed that the man did not even resist. When the crunching of the ribs subsided, reality inevitably washed over Sam.

- Dean is no more.

-Dean is no more

And this reality again hit him in the temples on the floor of the prison cell.

- God, how stupid! After all, we weren’t even supposed to do this task then. Sometimes Sam became immersed in what had happened and imagined that everything was happening differently. That he, Sam acts differently. And now they are together again, driving in their Impala. At such moments his face took on a confused, stupid look, but then it all came back again. And tears flowed down his cheeks again. Sam had long ago lost track of time, and even under torture, he could hardly say how long he spent in his cell. Maybe a day, or maybe an eternity? A dim light bulb swayed sluggishly under the ceiling, and slightly illuminated the gray walls of the cell, while everything else simply drowned in darkness...                    

                    Hell.

- Well, get up! A door slammed somewhere and Sam saw the policeman who had interrogated him the day before.

- Listen here, bastard, thank this young lady, otherwise you would have to rot in prison until the end of time...

- These damn values ​​are “forgiveness”, I would rot you with people like you, but how can I not obey such a sweet creature?

The policeman took a step to the side, and Sam saw the very same prostitute behind him. More precisely, it seemed so to him. The girl's face seemed vaguely familiar to him. But everything else... A perfectly straight back. Strict pose. Hair gathered tightly. Under the chin is a white blouse collar with a small brooch and a black chopper (do they still wear this?). Dark pencil skirt below the knees. She bowed her head slightly and smiled looking into his face with the trademark smile of an active Mormon...

- We'll save you! - her look seemed to say.

Time slowed down a little again, and Sam involuntarily crawled back a little. His back and shoulders immediately became covered with sweat, but the officer’s voice brought him back to reality again.- Thank this young lady, she said that she will not file a report against you for attempted rape. Maybe you could at least apologize to her?

“He won’t apologize,” she said quickly.

-Can we go?

- Still, Ma'am, this is not according to the rules. But if you really have no complaints, I simply do not have the right to detain you. Are you sure?

She looked at him sternly and did not deign to answer. Sam himself didn’t know whether to be happy or upset, but simply silently followed her deep into the dark corridor after the guard unlocked the door to his cell.

- Marie. She introduced herself with the same smile. She slowed down a little, waiting for Sam to walk around her completely unremarkable light gray car and follow her. The door slammed shut and Marie hit the gas.

-Where are we going? – that was all Sam could say, but the stranger did not deign to answer him.

He tried to open the door, but thought -

- Does it really matter? And he just started looking out the car window.

It was difficult to understand what time it was, but judging by the light gray fog and the faded, slightly bluish sky, it was early morning. At first, the stranger looked at Sam and made ridiculous attempts to smile, baring her white teeth. But then she just began to look thoughtfully at the road. Sam experienced an incomparable sense of peace; he fell into a light slumber, and from this the salon suddenly began to illuminate with sunlight. The light became brighter, almost unbearable, and at that moment Sam woke up. The stranger turned her face to him, smiled artificially, and Sam again felt the peace and grayness that reigned around him. Focusing his gaze on her teeth, he finally woke up.

It’s strange, but despite her attractiveness, he didn’t feel any desire or interest in her at all.

- This is our small community. Mary's car pulled off the road and Sam saw a small two-story house. The facade of the house was made very simply and had a light beige tint.

- John will show you your room. You can stop here for now. Mary put on her Mormon smile again and walked towards the house.

- So Stop! What the hell am I doing?

- Who are you anyway? Road prostitute! That's who you are!

- I'm Sam Winchester, damn it! I'm not going to hang out in your shithole! What do you have there, a brothel? Sam's voice broke into a scream. He turned sharply and headed towards the car. The door slammed behind him, and he slammed the wheel.

-Okay, cry, - the girl said quietly, without moving from her place, but only smiling slightly, this time only a little more sincerely.

                  Your room 34.

- That is how we live. Standing in the passage of the room, John shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

- Are you Sir, without things? You will be assigned number rom 34.

- We have lunch at exactly 12. And please don’t be late. The Madam doesn't like this.

- Sir, is there anything else I can help you with... - but Sam had already slammed the door in front of him.

The sun was already shining with all its might into the small square window, but thanks to the dark gray walls, the light no longer blinded it. Still, Sam pulled the light curtain.

- What would Dean do in my place? But Dean was gone, and Sam began to look blankly towards the window, leaning slightly on the door.

----

- Allow me to introduce you to a new member of our community. "Mistress" stood at the head of a long table

on the other side of Sam, and like everyone else, she was holding a glass of red wine in her hand.

- Sam Winchester!

- Welcome, Sam Winchester! The people standing along the table unanimously tur ned their gazes from the former “Prostitute” to him.

After which everyone sat down in unison and began to eat in silence. And only Mary continued to look at Sam with a satisfied smile.

Only now Sam noticed that Mary seemed pregnant.

“Well, there was someone here to get pregnant,” he thought and began to look around.

The walls of all the rooms in the building were the same gray color as in Sam's room. And in the center of the dining room-living room hung a portrait of “Marie”, and it was simply huge in size.

- Do you like the portrait?

- Oh yes, it’s a pity that the windows didn’t allow you to hang a larger portrait.

- Don’t be sarcastic, it’s not me at all.

- Then who?

- My sister. We have portraits of her all over the house. Her name is Sophie. It’s just a pity that she herself doesn’t deserve to come here. These portraits are my love for her.

-Where is she? He probably works somewhere far from here.

- She's a prostitute. Marie buried her eyes in her plate, and her palms trembled slightly.

Everyonek at the table looked at each other.

- Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. But Marie threw her head back and laughed.

She laughed for a long time, until suddenly her laughter stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

One of those sitting in the hall, who apparently was a doctor, quickly approached her.

- Today is such an important day, you shouldn’t be nervous.

- Am I upset? I am very happy and cheerful. I might even show Sam our house myself. And she confidently rose from the table and led him behind her.

The days slowly passed. Of course he planned to leave. Sam even talked to her about it. Marie answered, anxiously looking away, that if he leaves, the police will arrest him again, since he was taken by her for a reason, but with the promise of a positive influence on him from the community.

Sam Winchester himself will be arrested? – he again remembered the days on the floor of the prison cell, and although the threat sounded simply ridiculous, for some reason he cooled down a little. Besides, next to her he felt the same peace that he had felt then in the car. Dean's death was once again shrouded in veil, and he could listen to it for a long time, enjoying his peace. At first he tried to answer her something, to delve into it, even to argue, but the Lady did not tolerate any objections. And over time, he simply gave up trying.

Besides, where should he go? After all, he is so tired. Terribly tired.

- Demons in your head.

- You must learn to believe in people.

- Community is a collective mind, that’s what will lead you to the truth.

- How long do you think you spent in the cell?

- Everything repeats itself over and over again. She spoke.

At the same time, no matter how important “society” or “society” was, Marie herself was clearly the head of her community.

At her approach, the inhabitants of the house usually fell silent and bowed their heads. Over time, first as a joke, and then out of habit, Sam began to do the same. He even participated in some of the "community" rituals. A couple of months passed like this. It’s hard to say for sure, but “Mari’s” belly has finally grown. It seemed unthinkable to Sam to ask who the father was. And yet, all this was strange and somehow alarming.

                             Safi.

In the end, one day, he just got behind the wheel and drove wherever his eyes led him.

Sam's car slid smoothly across the gray gravel. The sun was slowly setting over the horizon, and the radio was playing in his car. Something cheerful. Sam tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music and sang along. He drove for quite a long time, but did not encounter any signs of civilization on his way. No motels, not even gas stations. Tired of the trip, he simply turned back. Sam was dying to sleep. It was starting to get dark, and when he was about to reach the community, he saw that same prostitute on the road, “Sophie” it seems. She walked along the highway, waddling, right in the middle of the road towards him.She put her left hand forward, urging him to stop. And with her right hand she supported her huge belly. Her hair was wet, and her face expressed complete despair. Sam immediately stopped, and at that moment "Sophie" fell to the ground. From her heart-rending scream, he realized that she was going into labor.

- I must take her to the community immediately. He thought.

- I will help you. Wait a minute. He picked her up and quickly brought her into the car.

For a moment she looked at him with the same fear, but then her features were again distorted by a grimace of pain, Sophie clutched her stomach with both hands and writhed in contractions.

- I will take you to our community.

- Just don't take me there.

- Your sister is there. She will help you.

But Sophie, looking at him with genuine horror, trying to get out, hit the car door with her hand with the last of her strength. After which her strength finally left her, and she passed out.

- John, where is the Lady?

- She is absent.

John opened the front door for Sam, and Sam shuffled awkwardly in the threshold.

- Her sister is here! She gives birth.

As luck would have it, a fine, nasty rain started dripping from the darkened gray sky.

- Sophie is prohibited from being on the territory of the community.

- Please wait! But John had already begun to close the heavy front door. Sam quickly pushed her with his hand and burst into the house.

- Hey! Anybody! The house seemed empty. It was as if there was not a soul in it. Sam rushed absurdly through the corridors.

-John, listen, there’s a woman in the car, she needs help.  

- John took the flashlight and walked slowly with Sam to the car. The rain had already intensified and the two of them, a bright orange spot, made their way through its veil.

When Sam suddenly opened the door, there was no one in the car.

                    New Born.

Sam spent the next two days in a fever. Apparently this rain finally finished him off. He was tossing around in bed and delirious. Sophie's broken face would sometimes appear in front of him, and he would again raise his hand to strike. Then he heard Marie's laughter, and at that moment Sophie's face acquired the bestial grin of the demon girl she and Dean had killed once. He grabbed her neck and tried to choke her. A little more and everything will be fine again. But the neck was wet and the hand constantly slipped.

But my neck was wet and my hand kept slipping. He sank his teeth into her neck and growled. A strange feeling of hatred, and arousal at the same time. There was a part of Sam that was afraid of what was happening, but he was irresistibly drawn to it. Eventually he saw himself running along the highway, in the grip of some almost primal horror, and woke up.

- Sam, Sam wake up!

- Good morning! The morning sun filled the room with a soft whitish light. Marie stood opposite Sam's bed and smiled.

-How are you feeling? Today is such a wonderful day, you definitely have to come down for breakfast. Her mood was filled with festive elation.

- We are waiting for you. And she, gently running her hand over his cheek, hurriedly left the room. She no longer had a belly.

-And was there a belly? He wondered.

- Does this matter?

Sam slowly sat down on the bed and began to pull on his trousers.- A hearty breakfast is all I need right now. That was all he thought at that moment.

All these children, these births, all this is just a ridiculous dream. He decided.

                           New Dean.

But already on the way to the living room he heard a child crying. Having entered the room, he stopped. The walls and floor were covered with something white; in the center of the living room there was the same long table, this time covered with a white tablecloth. The sun illuminated the entire room with an even white light.

At the head of the table stood Marie, in a long black dress, holding a crying naked baby in her outstretched arms, high above her head. He was crying heart-rendingly, but she didn’t even think about calming him down. There were men on both sides of her, and the same strange smile was frozen on the faces of these people.

- Salute his father! She said.

- We welcome you! Those in the hall spoke.Sam's left leg gave way and he awkwardly walked towards the "table".

Marie looked up at him and at that moment a shiver of horror ran down his spine from her strange smile.

- This is redemption! She said solemnly.

Sam felt like he was suffocating.

- General redemption! Others in the room spoke. And their hands began to touch the baby’s body.

Obeying a strange impulse, Sam also touched the child’s forehead with his hand. Then, as if waking up, he sharply recoiled and saw fangs appear on the faces of those present. Needle-sharp teeth pierced the baby’s white body, and with a sharp jerk, someone more agile tore a piece of meat from his flesh.

Marie stood at the head, swaying slightly and laughing, flashing huge fangs like spears. Her face was splattered with blood. But Sam was unable to return his gaze to what he saw.

He jerked sharply and threw the first chair he found at some vampire. He was feeling nauseous.

He must run away from here. It doesn’t matter where, the main thing is to run. He rushed away. Oddly enough, no one tried to block his way. He didn’t even remember how he ended up on the highway.

-This highway doesn’t end in this direction. He thought. And he ran in the opposite direction. It was starting to be a clear day. Sam ran along the road, not remembering himself, as if in delirium. Periodically he stumbled, fell and ran again. It is unknown how much time has passed. Suddenly he saw a bar in the distance. “Billy’s” had a window flashing invitingly.

Sam looked around anxiously, looking for the slightest danger. He was angry and ready to hit Dean for his carelessness.

- Our last task. – Dean picked up the glass of whiskey and poured it into himself.

-It’s just a demon girl, relax. He added, stopping smiling. And Sam heard a painfully familiar squeal.  

------------

-Listen, I’m really sorry, we did everything we could… I’m really really sorry for your brother, I’ll leave you for a while. The doctor put something on the table and left the room.

-Sammy, no... Dean was sitting over his brother's bed and tightly squeezing his hand.

Next to his bed there was a device on which a green stripe glowed with what the doctor had just voiced.

Sam lay flat. Before his mind's eye, the gray strip of the highway was already twisting with might and main…..

Погладить и пожалеть. Моя Мини новелла.

Мне часто говорили что с моей фантазией надо писать книги. Ну не знаю… Честно села писать. Пока есть лишь скомканное предисловие. Но по-моему оно вполне удалось.

Ведь мать есть не бог, это дьявол

Что нежность и хрупкость цветка,

Бросает в объятья пиявок.

Вступление.

Прежде всего хочу развеять ошибочное суждение многих эгерцев о том что посвящена сия история их достопочтимому народу. Понимать ее следует совершенно иначе.

Многие из Вас помнят серию весьма не научных фотографий, сделанную Нун Боргильезе на других планетах. Мне врезалось в память одно их тех фото. На нем была изображена девочка-инопланетянка двенадцати лет, заключенная в клетку. Посвятить этот рассказ автор хотел все же ей, а не окружавшему ее народу, привыкшему принимать похвалы и посвящения исключительно на свой счет. Получала ли девочка достаточно пищи? Были ли живы ее родители? Клетка, в которой она помещалась, была пуста. Что наводило на самые печальные размышления. Ее история лилась на меня и давала ответы лишь самого мрачного порядка. Такого же, как окружавшая ее ночь вампиров-эгерцев.

Погладить и пожалеть, вот то, что невольно приходит в голову при взгляде на эту картину. Неизвестно в какое это происходило время. Фотографии Нун, вещь весьма абстрактная хочется верить в лучшее. Ведь реальность так часто оказывается не столь плоха как нам кажется… В памяти потомков остаются лишь мифы, при чем утрированные и превращенные в сказку, которую так увлекательно пересказывать друг другу. Настоящее же время словно стесняясь своей безинтересности, остается в тени. И будь оно молодой девушкой, просто покрылось бы краской стыда, услышав о том что осталось о нем в памяти потомков.

Stroke and regret.

Me was often told that with my imagination I should write books. Well, I don’t know... I honestly sat down to write. So far there is only a crumpled preface. But in my opinion it was quite successful.

After all, mother is not God, she is the devil. She the fragility and tenderness of a flower, Throws into the arms of the leeches...

Introduction.

In the First of all, I want to dispel the erroneous judgment of many Eger residents that this story is dedicated to their venerable people. It should be understood completely differently. Many of you remember a series of very unscientific photographs taken by Nun Borghillese on other planets. One of those photos is etched in my memory. It showed a twelve-year-old alien girl imprisoned in a cage. The author still wanted to dedicate this story to her, and not to the people around her, who were accustomed to accepting praise and dedication solely at their own expense. Did the girl get enough food? Were her parents alive? The cage in which she was placed was empty. Which led to the saddest thoughts. Her story poured into me and provided only answers of the darkest order. The same as the night of the Eger vampires that surrounded her. To stroke and feel sorry is what involuntarily comes to mind when looking at this picture. It is unknown at what time this happened. Nun's photographs are a very abstract thing, I want to believe in the best. After all, reality so often turns out to be not as bad as we think... Only myths remain in the memory of descendants, exaggerated and turned into a fairy tale, which is so fun to retell to each other. The present time, as if embarrassed by its lack of interest, remains in the shadows. And if she were a young girl, she would simply be covered with shame upon hearing about what remained about him in the memory of her descendants.

Ампир V VS Горбачев.

Bam, bam bam, Misha Miller.

В Ютубе завирусилось видео, не то болгарской, не то румынской певицы, под незамысловатым названием Бам, Бам.

И все бы ничего, но мое конспо внимание было привлечено замысловатым головным убором, отсылаюшим мою небедную конспо фантазию к культу сатурна. Вот, кстати, виновник моего неспокойства.

A video of either a Bulgarian or Romanian singer went viral on YouTube, under the simple title Bam, Bam.

And everything would be fine, but my conspo attention was drawn to an intricate headdress, referring my rather wealthy conspo fantasy to the cult of Saturn. Here, by the way, is the culprit of my uneasiness.

Стала смотреть видео, ну а там самый жир для конспиролога. Тут тебе и тетка в шляпе сатурна в церкви.

I started watching the video, and there it was, the best part for a conspiracy theorist. Here you have a woman in a Saturn hat in a church.

Тут тебе и тетка в шляпе сатурна под дождем. Ну кто не знает дождь это символ дьявола у масонов.

Here you have an aunt in a Saturn hat in the rain. Well, who doesn't know that rain is a symbol of the devil for the Masons.

И да, все это похороны, под веселенький припевчик Бам, Бам, Бам.

Глазик, стабильно в клипе в одиночестве. Почти всегда. Ну и черный мужчина соратник, чтоб мне совсем стало хорошо. И шансов что я не напишу эту статью не осталось. Да, кто не знает черный мужчина это тоже символ дьявола.

Eye, consistently in the clip alone. Almost always. Well, and a black male comrade, so that I feel completely good. And there is no chance that I will not write this article. Yes, who does not know a black man is also a symbol of the devil.

Это вот мы подмигиваем.

This is us winking.

А это вот что мы собственно хороним. Сердце-солнце, он же символ Христа.

And this is what we actually bury. The heart-sun, it is also the symbol of Christ.

Скрины темные получились, ибо телефон православный, стыдно ему освещать такое. Мишка наша уже кстати и в евровидении поучаствовала. Так правда я не разобралась за какую страну. Будем считать за все. Ну а читателям несведущим небольшое напоминание о том как много значит для нас конспирологов сия планета.

Вот.

The screenshots turned out dark, because the phone is Orthodox, it is embarrassing for it to illuminate such things. Our Mishka has already participated in Eurovision, by the way. But I didn't figure out for which country. Let's count for all. Well, for the uninformed readers, a small reminder of how much this planet means to us conspiracy theorists

Про Зазель я уже писала, люди Вы уже образованные, должны понять.

Припев Бам, Бам, Бам, и отпевание толсто намекает нам что война на Украине будет еще долго. По некоторым конспо данным до 2027 года включительно. Вообщем ждут масоны третью мировую и машиаха, надеются с Хохляндии начать. Как там у них говорится? Из искры разгорится пламя. Может и в Румынию великий пи который не Дидди войска тоже направит. Как-то так Немного текста. Так сказать лирика.

Поздно и луна горит, Телефоны на полу, Воспоминания которые я ношу с собой повсюду.. Знаешь, я не в чем не виновата, Потому что ты солнце и буря… Мне будет хорошо без тебя, Я больше не жертва. Ветер и дожди, детка, я больше не хочу назад, У меня больше нет ясного неба, только слезы и яд.

Жду Ваши комментарии и мысли. Но конечно же их снова не будет...

The Palace of Farmers

Демоны VS кирпичи.

Пару слов о допотопной архитектуре. A few words about antediluvian architecture.

Когда-то давно снимала комнату в районе метро дмитровская, в Москве, рядом расположена арт площадка Хлебзавод. Сосед по квартире работал там на починке разной электрики, и говорил что под Хлебзаводом существует древний, большой подземный ход, арочного типа. Я даже хотела сходить с ним и поснимать, но как-то ноги не дошли. Там огромное количество строений из красного кирпича. И ход как раз под одним из них. Может он еще как-то с метро связан. Так что подобные ходы под Москвой это не миф.

А вот кстати фото тунеллей под другой тоже кстати арт площадкой, но в другом месте Винзавод.

Интересно что и красный кирпич, и металл, это материалы проходящие обработку огнем, возможно это дает им какую то защитную силу от демонических сущностей. Смотрела ролик на ютубе, о том что наши бабушки спали только на металлических кроватях. Я и сама живя в родном городе, помню что в спальне у нас такая стояла. Я и спала на ней все детство. Примерно так они выглядели. И были стабильно весьма популярны.

Я думаю металл, кирпич, стекло это то что прошло обработку огнем давало нашим предкам большую защиту от демонов. А Вы что думаете? A few words about antediluvian architecture. A long time ago I rented a room in the Dmitrovskaya metro area in Moscow, next to the Hlebzavod art site. My roommate worked there repairing various electrical equipment, and he said that under Hlebzavod there was an ancient, large underground passage, an arched type. I even wanted to go with him and take pictures, but somehow my legs did not get around to it. There are a huge number of red brick buildings there. And the passage is right under one of them. Maybe it is somehow connected with the metro. So such passages under Moscow are not a myth. It is interesting that both red brick and metal are materials that undergo fire treatment, perhaps this gives them some kind of protective power from demonic entities. I watched a video on YouTube about how our grandmothers slept only on metal beds. I myself, living in my hometown, remember that we had one in the bedroom. I slept on it all my childhood. I think metal, brick, anything that was treated with fire gave our ancestors greater protection from demons. What do you think?

Расстались-нерасстались или о чем поет Майли Сайрус.

We broke up and didn't break up. Or what is Miley Cyrus singing about?

Какое то время я следила за одноим российским  и актером. Так как человек я дотошный, а влюбленность длилась долго. Я смогла пронаблюдать и изучить многие факты, схемы, вообщем все то, что составляет систему масонских публичных взаимоотношений. Ну и на его примере могу теперь оценивать те или иные «громкие расставания». Как в России, так и за рубежом. Принцип здесь один. Ну во-первых что стоит понять и уяснить раз и навсегда – почти все, что публичные люди озвучивают в сми о своей личной жизни – ложь. Геи часто женятся, и публично заводят детишек. Ну а люди, чьи отношения перешли на новый, более серьезный уровень, объявляют о расставании. При чем достаточно громко, с поливанием друг друга помоями и скандалом. Это необходимо, чтобы один из партнеров, который не является масоном еще (как правило это женщина) прошел через публичное унижение, и масоном стал. После чего уже возможно совместное рождение детишек, с воспитанием их в масонских ценностях, ну и просто любовь-морковь до гроба. Давайте рассмотрим «расставание» Джонни Деппа и Эмбер Херд. Итак, они достаточно долго «встречаются». Целых 10 лет!! Что для Голливуда огромный срок. А потом «внезапно» оказываются на суде, где Джонни рассказывает о том, как кто-то ходил по большому прямо в кровать. При этом Эмбер слушает это с видом жертвенной овцы выставленной на закланье, мило улыбается и смотрит в пол. Ни одна нормальная девушка не стала бы реагировать на подобное так спокойно!! А Эмбер даже эмоций никаких не показала! Далее, после суда, Эмбер внезапно пропадает с радаров. И появляется уже в Европе, в компании парочки детишек. Вроде бы как даже ее! Откуда дети?? Нам втирают про суррогатную мать. Действительно, первое что хочется сделать выйдя из зала суда, где ты со скандалом рассталась с кем-то, имея долг в десятки миллионов, это нанять суррогатную мать и родить от себя. Ну а че? Нормальная же реакция? Ну а Джонни Депп встречается … Ах, да, ни с кем он не встречается. Целибат. Более чем сомнительное расставание. Большие сомнения у меня так же на счет Майли Сайрус и Лайама Хеймсворта. Опять же срок – 10 лет, внезапность. Ну и обоюдное одиночество до сих пор. Крайне сомнительно. Нет таких примеров масса. Нужно просто открыть глаза и их увидеть…

For some time I followed a Russian actor. Since I am a meticulous person, my love lasted probably at least 2 years. I was able to observe and study many facts, diagrams, in general, everything that makes up the system of Masonic public relations. Well, using his example, I can now evaluate certain “high-profile breakups.” Both in Russia and abroad. There is only one principle here. Well, first of all, what is worth understanding and understanding once and for all is that EVERYTHING that public people voice in the media about their personal lives is a LIE. Gays definitely get married and publicly have children. Well, people whose relationships have moved to a new, more serious level announce separation. And quite loudly, with slop thrown at each other and a scandal. This is necessary so that one of the partners who is not yet a Freemason (usually a woman) goes through public humiliation and becomes a Freemason. After which it is already possible to have children together, raising them in Masonic values, and just love-carrots to the grave. Let's look at the "breakup" of Johnny Depp and Amber Heard. So, they have been “dating” for quite some time. A whole 10 years!! Which is a huge time for Hollywood. And then “suddenly” they find themselves in court, where Johnny talks about how someone walked straight into bed. At the same time, Amber listens to this with the air of a sacrificial sheep exposed for slaughter, smiles sweetly and looks at the floor. No normal girl would react to something like this so calmly!! And Amber didn’t even show any emotions! Then, after the trial, Amber suddenly disappears from the radar. And he appears in Europe, in the company of a couple of children. It seems like even hers! Amber!! Where are the maza faka children from? Immaculate Conception? They are telling us about a surrogate mother. Indeed, the first thing you want to do after leaving the courtroom, where you broke up with someone in a scandal, having a debt of tens of millions, is to hire a surrogate mother and give birth to yourself. So what? Is this a normal reaction? Well Johnny Depp is dating... Oh yeah, he's not dating anyone. Celibacy. And the funny thing is that people swallow all this completely calmly. I also have big doubts about Miley Cyrus and Liam Heymsworth. Again, the term is 10 years. Suddenness. Well, there is still mutual loneliness. Yes Yes. Extremely doubtful. And there are many such examples. You just need to open your eyes and see them...

Война и Майя.

War and Maya

Мы привыкли считать древних людей дикими. Древние правитель Майя, протыкал свой пенис и истекал кровью, до тех пор пока не начнуться галлюцинации, прежде чем отправить свой народ на войну. Японские Самураи, если их отряд проигрывал, делали Харакири. Сталин отказался вернуть из плена в Германии своего сына, так как Гитлер просил взамен прислать ему генерала. Сам же Гитлер прошел первую мировую, и ослеп на несколько лет после газовой атаки, прежде чем придти к власти. А когда Германия проиграла, наложил на себя руки. Как думаете Путин или Джордж Буш, способны на что-то подобное?)) Ответ очевиден.)) Наш мир чуть более чем полностью лишен благородства. Скорее это мы сейчас одичали.

We are accustomed to considering ancient people to be wild. An ancient Mayan ruler pierced his penis and bled until he hallucinated before sending his people off to war. Japanese Samurai, if their squad lost, did Harakiri. Stalin refused to return his son from captivity in Germany, since Hitler asked to send him a general in return. Hitler himself went through the First World War and went blind for several years after a gas attack before coming to power. And when Germany lost, he committed suicide. Our world is little more than completely devoid of nobility. It’s more likely that we’ve gone wilde now. Do you think Putin or George Bush are capable of something like that?)) The answer is obvious.))