Interesting and Humour - page 2720

 
Alexandr Bryzgalov:
Ripple ad
By the way yes :)
 
Комбинатор:
By the way :))
you're hiding something.)))
 
- Am I dead yet? - The man asked.
- Yes," the Demiurge nodded, keeping his eyes on the thick, imposing book. Indeed.

The man shifted unsteadily from foot to foot.
- What now?
The Demiurge glanced at him, then back at the book.
- There," he pointed to an inconspicuous door without looking, "or there," he turned his finger toward another similar door.
- What's in there?" the man asked.
- Hell," the Demiurge answered. It depends.

The man hesitated, glancing from one door to the other.
- And which one shall I go to?
- Don't you know? - he raised an eyebrow slightly.
- Well," said the man, "I don't know. Where I'm supposed to go, according to my deeds...
- Hm!" The Demiurge put his finger in the book and looked straight at the man. "By my deeds, then?
- Well, yes, what else could it be?
- All right, all right," the demiurge opened the book back to the beginning and began to read aloud, "it says that when you were twelve years old you ran an old woman across the road. Did you ever do that?
- Yes," the man nodded.
- Was that good or bad?
- Good, of course!
- Let's see... - Demiurge turned the page, - five minutes later this old woman was run over by a tram in the other street. If you hadn't helped her, they would have missed each other and the old woman would have lived another ten years. How's that?

The man blinked dumbfoundedly.
- Or else," the Demiurge opened the book elsewhere, "at the age of twenty-three you and a group of comrades took part in the brutal beating of another group of comrades.
- They were the first to get in!" the man threw up his head.
- That's not what I have here," he objected. "And, by the way, alcohol intoxication is not a mitigating factor. So you broke two fingers and a nose on a seventeen-year-old for no reason. Is that good or bad?
The man remained silent.
- After that, the boy couldn't play the violin, and he had great promise. You ruined his career.
- It was an accident," the man muttered.
- As it happens," the Demiurge nodded. "As it happens, the boy hated that violin when he was a child. After your meeting he took up boxing to defend himself and in time he became world champion. Shall we continue?

The Demiurge turned a few more pages.
- Is rape good or bad?
- But I...
- That kid became a great doctor and saved hundreds of lives. Good or bad?
- Well, I guess...
- Among those lives was that of a homicidal maniac. Good or bad?
- But...
- And a homicidal maniac will soon slaughter a pregnant woman who could have been the mother of a great scientist! Good? Bad?
- But...
- That great scientist, if he were allowed to be born, would have invented a bomb that could scorch half the continent. Bad? Or good?
- But I couldn't have known all that!' shouted the man.
- Yes, of course," he agreed. "Or, for instance, on page 246 you stepped on a butterfly!
- What did you get out of it?
The Demiurge turned the book silently toward the man and pointed. The man read it and the hair on his head moved.
- What a nightmare," he whispered.
- But if you hadn't crushed it, this would have happened," God pointed to another paragraph. The man looked up and swallowed.
- So... I saved the world?
- Yes, four times," the Demiurge confirmed, "by crushing a butterfly, pushing an old man, betraying a comrade, and stealing my grandmother's purse. Each time the world was on the brink of disaster, but by your efforts the world is standing up to it.
- Ah... - the man hesitated for a moment. - And on the brink of that very disaster... was it me too?
- You, you, don't doubt it. Twice. When you fed a stray kitten and when you saved a drowning man.
The man's knees buckled and he sat on the floor.
- Everything I've done in my life... everything I've been proud of and ashamed of... it's all backwards, inside out, it's not what it seems!
- That's why it would be wrong to judge you by your actions," the Demiurge made a suggestive statement. "Except by your intentions... but you are your own judge.

He slammed the book shut and set it aside among the others.
books.
- Anyway, when you've decided where you want to go, go to the door of your choice. I've got a lot to do.
The man raised his tearful face.
- But I don't know which is hell and which is heaven.
- That depends on which one you choose," replied the Demiurge.
 
Timur Gatin:
The demiurge is a divine entity in Gnosticism. It's a bit of a misnomer. It is the "writers" who have heard a beautiful word somewhere and mold it without understanding the meaning.
 

You are a young prince from Novograd-Volynsky,
your name is, let's say, Yaroslav, your father is a brutal blond Norwegian,
your mother is a gray-eyed Slav who was stolen by your father in Polotsk.
You, together with your retinue of Finns, Swedes, Prussians, Polonians, Samogitians, with a visiting Syrian bishop,
a visiting Syrian bishop from Byzantium, arrived in a remote northern region,
on the banks of the small river Moksel.
a tribe of Erzyan pagans live there.
you drove them like beasts, with swords and spears, into the river,
crushed their teeth, broke their noses, twisted their cheekbones,
until they agreed to accept orthodoxy,
cut down their clan idols, recognize you as their prince and
give you and your people tribute for ten years,
the three most beautiful girls.

And now, a thousand years later, on the very bank of the river Moksel, your baptized Erzya want to erect a monument to prince vladimir of Kiev.
and you don't understand - why him?
Was it him who dragged through the taiga hundreds of miles away from Kiev,
to bring the light of Christian truth to the Mosselian pagans?
Was it Vladimir who smashed his knuckles in blood on his fists,
while he was proving the superiority of christ over yarila to the erzyans?
Did vladimir burn the shaman and all his disciples?
no! you did it. moksel's baptism is your merit.
But the erzyas have forgotten you for some reason and are erecting a handsome bronze monument to vladimir, your third cousin.

there is no justice in life. (с)

 
Дмитрий:

You are a young prince from Novograd-Volynsky,
your name is, let's say, Yaroslav, your father is a brutal blond Norwegian,
your mother is a gray-eyed Slav who was stolen by your father in Polotsk.
You, together with your retinue of Finns, Swedes, Prussians, Polonians, Samogitians, with a visiting Syrian bishop,
a visiting Syrian bishop from Byzantium, arrived in a remote northern region,
on the banks of the small river Moksel.
a tribe of Erzyan pagans live there.
you drove them like beasts, with swords and spears, into the river,
crushed their teeth, broke their noses, twisted their cheekbones,
until they agreed to accept orthodoxy,
cut down their clan idols, recognize you as their prince and
give you and your people tribute for ten years,
the three most beautiful girls.

And now, a thousand years later, on the very bank of the river Moksel, your baptized Erzya want to erect a monument to prince vladimir of Kiev.
and you don't understand - why him?
Was it him who dragged through the taiga hundreds of miles away from Kiev,
to bring the light of Christian truth to the Mosselian pagans?
Was it Vladimir who smashed his knuckles in blood on his fists,
while he was proving the superiority of christ over yarila to the erzyans?
Did vladimir burn the shaman and all his disciples?
no! you did it. moksel's baptism is your merit.
But the erzyas have forgotten you for some reason and are erecting a beautiful bronze monument to vladimir, your third cousin.

there is no justice in life. (с)

cool bylina, just like from the book, I can almost hear the ringing of the chain-links

 
transcendreamer:

A cool bylina, just like from a book, I can practically hear the ringing of the ringlets.

A documentary retelling of a segment in the life of PrinceYaroslav Sviatopolchich(Yaroslavets) -Princeof Volyn, son of PrinceSviatopolk Izyaslavich of Kievby his concubine.

Early 11th - late 12th century.

 
Alexandr Murzin:
There was also an interesting set in the Gastronome shop - "Wheat" 3rub.62cop. + processed cheese "Druzhba" 7 kop. My friends would also be delighted.

"Wheat was never worth 3.62. And Druzhba cheesecake never cost 7p either.

Up until 1967, vodka cost 2.87, cheese cake cost 13 kopecks. When vodka was raised to 3 roubles, they started calling it selective because it took away the cheese cake. In Soviet times there was such a ritual 'for three'. No one ever wanted to spend money on cheesecake, but here it was very convenient, as they each gave a ruble

 

Two economists meet. They talk, of course, about the crisis.

Alone:

- Do you understand anything?

The second one:

- I'll explain it to you now...

- Stop! I can explain it myself. Do you understand anything?