[Archive! - page 482
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Where is the politics here? Prokhorov has elementarily failed in his leadership role.
Shall we object?
I've been watching your posts for a week now, without getting involved.
I can't stand it.
I can't stand it when, standing at the cooker and stirring the boiling jam, one argues...
I've been watching your posts for a week now, without getting involved.
I couldn't stand it.
I can't stand standing at the cooker and stirring the boiling jam and speculating...
Don't try your fantasies on me.
I don't like a lot of things either.
Do you have anything to say on the subject?
...Do you have anything to say on the subject?
What's the topic? I thought I was on the subject and I was sent somewhere for a grant.
So you don't have to organise any more free rallies.
But I'm on topic, aren't I? And you're pushing me off topic. It's not fair.
Where, in what place am I pushing out?
Here, when you send for a grant. You just brushed me off, and the case is serious.
Schizophrenia. The beginning.
The edge of the forest. It is dawn. A hare galloped across the edge of the forest. It rode only one way and lurked the bastard behind a birch tree, waiting for the next installment of the National Endowment for Democracy.
Meanwhile, with the first rays of the sun, the wildflowers, paid for through CIA shell companies, began to bloom. A cuckoo cuckooed on a pine tree. Not for nothing. Yesterday she had received a six-cuckoo transfer from Israel.
Meanwhile, British MI6's purchased clouds began to gather over the clearing. It started to rain. The hare was all wet, but kept waiting for the next payment from his overseas sponsors. But his ears perked up and became alert. From somewhere in the distance there was a rumbling and crackling of dry trees. The bunny huddled into the old birch tree that had been planted with Posev's money. Moose, paid by State Department, rushed from the forest to the clearing with a rattle.
And in the evening... and in the evening, over the forest, illuminating with yellow light the glade and the creek and the field, it rose. A harbinger of an orange revolution, paid for with money from the United States Defense Department, the moon hung over Russia.