[Archive c 17.03.2008] Humour [Archive to 28.04.2012] - page 525
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Treason is when you walk your girlfriend home at night to an unknown area, say goodbye to her at the door and your question "where is the underground" is answered by "through those unlit yards, then turn left through the park and in 10 minutes you get to Yuzhnoe Butovo station"
*** ***
Treason is when you go to the underground and suddenly cops come towards you. And you have dreadlocks on your head, and a red-and-yellow-green T-shirt and pockets full of weed.
*** ***
Treason is when you give a girl one five-thousand-dollar bill and she gives you three thousand-dollar bills. Ah, no, that's not cheating, that's swapping. Hmm, or divorce?
Oh, wow...
Three for a thousand is change, and divorce is waiting for you if your wife finds out what the other two went for.
*** ***
Cheating is when you spent half the night preparing a presentation on your computer, selecting the right documents, pictures and words, and right after all the bosses have gathered and you went to work for the bonus, you realized that not only the ketchup was fucking expired, but the mustard from that hot dog was too.
*** ***
Treason is when you wake up in God knows where, God knows with whom, without clothes, without documents, money and keys, your head hurts, you have a black eye and your back is scratched...
Ah, no, this is not treason, this is a quest.
*** ***
Treason is when you wake up after anesthesia and the doctor says affectionately "Don't worry, little Marino, it's over." But you do remember that before the operation your name was Dima!
*** ***
Treason is when you don't get on the plane. And nine other people. And then they die a strange death one after another and suddenly you realize you're next.
Although...
It's not treason, it's "Destination".
*** ***
Treason is when two hundred skinhead young men in bombers and grinders are walking towards you and you're a Negro from Odessa with Caucasian roots.
*** ***
Treason is when you call your wife to tell her what a prick and moral bastard your boss is and suddenly you hear his voice on the other end of the line.
Ah, no...
not treason, that's fucked up!
Carlson's last flight
The little boy was sitting by the window, in the most disgusting mood. Who had invented these stupid birthdays? The guests were coming, he had to have fun, and he didn't feel like having fun at all... The little boy angrily kicked the stuffed dog his brother and sister had given him this morning.
- And what do they expect me to do with it? - he thought angrily. - Take it to bed with me? Cuddle with her? Am I too young to play with stuffed dogs?
He kicked the toy again and sat down to read a new book he had recently found in the pantry. Suddenly he heard a buzzing sound. He took his eyes off the book and listened.
- Is Daddy shaving? He shaved this morning," said Babe, surprised, and suddenly realized that the sound was not coming from his father's electric razor, but from an open window.
Babe ran to the window and looked out. At first he didn't see anything, but then the buzzing became louder, and with a cry of "Hee-hee-hee!", waving affectionately at Babe, a fat little man with a propeller behind his back flew past the window. The Kid was surprised.
- Hey, on the windowsill! - shouted the fat man, flying past the window for the second time and waving his hand again. - Landing, come on!
- Yes, yes, of course I'll give you a landing," shouted Babe loudly. - Lateral wind, five meters per second, pressure seven hundred and thirty three, glide point...
The Kid estimated, and it appeared to him that the house opposite would not allow a proper landing approach. He leaned out of the window again and shouted:
- Hey! Are you going to land like a plane or like a helicopter?
- I'll land the Carlson way! - The fat man shouted back as he flew in through the window. He did a couple of circles around the room, landed on the couch, jumped up and bowed, shuffling his leg.
- Carlson," he introduced himself. - The best in the world, of course. What's your name?
- Babe," replied Babe.
- Let's meet," said Carlson and looked around thoughtfully. He stood pensively for a few seconds before he called out in a deafening voice: "Wake up!"
The baby flinched.
- What is it? - He asked frightened.
- I thought you were asleep," said Carlson.
- 'Not at all,' replied Babe.
- Then why aren't you running as fast as you can into the kitchen to treat your dear guest? - Carlson asked indignantly. - I, you could say, almost died of hunger...
Carlson collapsed into an armchair, closed his eyes and started to play the dying man.
- Ow! - The little boy ran around the room. - Now! We've only got meatballs. Meatballs okay with you?
- Meatballs? - Carlson opened one eye. - All right, get your meatballs.
The kid brought a plate of meatballs from the kitchen. Carlson jumped up in his chair, grabbed two meatballs at once and stuffed them into his mouth.
- Tell me," said the Kid timidly, "how do you fly?
- Can't you see," muttered Carlson with his mouth full. - I have a propeller on my back.
- How amazing! - Smalls amazed. - But excuse me! You flew with a positive pitch.
- What?" Carlson opened his mouth in surprise and almost choked.
- Well... You were flying with your head slightly upwards, leaning forward. The propeller must have been pulling you up and back. So why were you flying forward and not backward?
Carlson, not listening to Babe, was looking around the cupboard shelves with interest. He was interested in the cunning device that was on the topmost shelf.
- I'll fly back when I've finished the meatballs," he said absently. - It's not proper to leave a guest at once. The landlord might think I was only here for the chow.
- Yet I can't help feeling uneasy about your propeller... Ow! - The little one rushed to Carlson, but he didn't get there in time. Carlson reached for the cunning device and dropped it. The wreckage was scattered all over the room.
- You... you wrecked my car! - Little Man cried. - I made it myself, and you ...
Carlson shifted from foot to foot in embarrassment.
- "Don't worry, Kid," he said. - It's everyday stuff. I have a thousand of these machines at home! I'll get you a new one, and even two.
- A thousand? - Babe's jaw dropped. - And they all work?
- Of course," Carlson assured him. - A thousand, from morning to evening, working, humming and buzzing.
- Well, isn't it! - The boy looked at Carlson sympathetically. - Such a problem with the intestines?
- Intestines? - Carlson didn't understand.
- Well, yes, because this machine is an air freshener. It absorbs hydrogen sulphide and other gases... well, the ones that are emitted... - and Baby, blushing, whispered something in Carlson's ear.
- Yes?" Carlson hesitated. - To tell you the truth, I was going to throw them all out. I had no use for them at all. But before I do, I'll give you a couple, or even three.
- It's a deal! - Babe smiled and his tears instantly dried. - Can I see your propeller?
- Sure. - Carlson turned around.
- That's crazy! That's what I thought," said Babe as he looked at the propeller.
- Is it a good propeller? - Carlson asked flatteredly.
- 'That's what I thought, it's not a propeller,' said Babe. - A propeller couldn't work like that, because your back would shield the main air flow, and all the energy would be wasted creating turbulence.
- Hey, what are you doing? - Carlson puffed up. - This is the best propeller in the world!
- Don't be mad! Of course it's a great propeller! - said Babe hastily. - But it's not really a propeller. It has a very interesting system of tilting the blades. The vector of thrust is on the plane of rotation and the point of force is shifted to the left. So the lifting force is from the legs to the head, along the back, not perpendicular as I first thought. And the point of force application is shifted to the left - because it acts on those blades that are currently moving down...
- Why are you cursing? - Carlson was offended. - You are such an expert.
He stood up and pretended to leave.
- I'm sorry, - Baby was frightened. - Don't go, please.
- All right, all right. - Carlson plumped back in his chair. - What are we going to do? Shall we play?
- Come on! - Little Man got excited. - What shall we play?
- Storytelling, for example. You tell me a story and I'll listen. - And Carlson got ready to listen.
- A story? But I don't remember fairy tales!
- You don't? You don't remember them at all? Well, at least about Little Red Riding Hood?
The boy shook his head.
- And about a cat in boots? You don't remember either? And about Hamilton the piper?
- Of course not! - Babe slapped himself on the forehead. - I was trying to mentally construct the mechanics of your flight through a shortened action, using Lagrangian mechanics. But it seems that the Hamiltonian approach will be much clearer here. The main thing is to be able to write down the Hamiltonian, and then...
- I thought you were going to tell me a fairy tale! - Carlson sulked again.
- Well, you are offended again! - Said the Kid sadly. - I just think that such a propeller, as you have, inevitably will cause additional torque. You have no tail rotor like a helicopter. And you're going to be pulled sideways on your course. I can't figure out how you compensate for that torque. It has to turn you around, and at some point you will inevitably go into a corkscrew.
The little one caught Carlson's frown and winced.
- You're no fun," Carlson said with a frown. - Well, you've been away, now it's time to do the honors. Ciao!
With these words Carlson ran to the window sill, started the engine, and jumped out.
- Hey-hey-hey, Junior! Goodbye! - He shouted, waving to Kid.
- Hold on! I got it! I understand! - The boy exclaimed, rushing to the window. Carlson made a sharp turn and turned back.
- What do you understand? - Carlson asked, sinking down on the sofa. - That the guests should be entertained, not talking nonsense?
- I see how you compensate for this spinning! - shouted Babe. - You're always waving your hand in flight. The air current presses against this outstretched arm and fights the rotation. To fly, you have to use your arm all the time.
Carlson gets really angry.
- You are at it again! - He said grimly. - I don't owe anyone anything! I wave to everybody and shout "Hey, hey, hey!" because I'm a jolly, friendly man in the prime of my life. But to nerds like you, I won't even wave now.
- If my theory is correct... - Babe started, but Carlson had already flown out the window.
The Kid saw Carlson, picking up speed, reflexively jerked his right arm, but held back. Then he went sideways. He tried to straighten himself out and almost waved his right arm again, but immediately grabbed it with his left and pressed it against his torso. Carlson's grip was stronger, and he suddenly spun sideways in the direction of the flight. He gave up and waved his arm desperately, but it was too late. The air current knocked him over, and, tumbling randomly, Carlson flew down.
- heard the Kid's last cry, and the Kid saw Carlson crash at full speed into a concrete pole, rolling to the ground and standing motionless with his arms and legs spread out. Around his head a large bloody splotch blurred.
The kid sighed and went back to his book. But again he was not allowed to read in peace.
- Babe! - Daddy's voice sounded. Babe turned around.
- Kid, did you take Landau and Lifshitz hydrodynamics? - Softly asked Daddy, entering the room. - It was on the shelf covering the stain on the wallpaper and now it's gone.
- It's me, I put it on the nightstand," whispered Babe. - I couldn't reach to put it back on the shelf.
- Babe, Babe. - Dad patted Babe's head affectionately. - Why do you take books like that? You're not old enough to read them anyway! And there are hardly any pictures in it.
- I didn't understand it anyway," he lied.
- Of course you don't. You have to study a lot, first at school, then at university - and you're still in the first grade. Look who's here," said Dad as he let Krister and Gunilla, Little Man's friends, through the door.
- Krister! Gunilla! - Babe shouted excitedly. - How happy he is to see you!
He looked fondly at the boy and came out quietly.
- Babe! - Krister said as he handed him a parcel. - We want to wish you a happy birthday and give you this Wilson camera.
- A Wilson camera? - Babe's eyes sparkled. - How wonderful! I've been dreaming about it for a long time! What is its steam saturation ratio?
Babe was genuinely delighted, but Crister caught the sadness in his voice.
- What is it, Babe? - he asked. - Are you upset about something?
Babe sighed heavily and sorrowfully closed the book "Amusing vivisection" with a bookmark.
- I didn't get a dog.
>
>
Shit, it's been a long time since I cried like that :))))))))))))))))
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" During a football match in France between AS Groville and FC Mufflins, a Mufflins player scored a goal with his own genitals" ( - with his pee - as the commentator there said).
http://prikol.bigmir.net/view/165990/
Letter to Father Christmas.
Hello, Grandfather Frost! Seryozha is writing to you from Irkutsk. Grandpa, read this letter to the end.
It's not spam, it's a real earning opportunity!
***
- Accused! Why did you hit the man from next door?
- He's secretly raising chickens! And this in a city flat, on the twelfth floor!
- What's the matter with you?
- I was treated by a psychiatrist for three months, thinking that the cackling was a figment of my sick imagination.
Carlson's last flight
What was that, Seryozh?
Eneway - thank you...
>
It was one of my favourite short stories based on...