Loken
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So...
"a firm female hand"...
"Arandor"...
"Lelya"...
"desires"...
"doggy style"...
"German with pleasure"...
Ah, youth. What an example you set for the Manticore!
Back in the Soviet Union, we didn't have such things.
We had test tubes. We had cloning. We had nuclear power plants. But we didn't have this kind of depravity. We didn't have online perverts. We only had hardworking people...
If anything happened, it was only like in Ancient Rome.
"Patricians hired a hetaera and threw an orgy."
But there's a typo here – not patricians, but party members.
Ah, those were glorious times.
I remember working in a mine, extracting coke.
Once, I even overfulfilled the plan by 400%! They even published me in "Zvezda Komsomola!" in the "Our Calloused Hands" section. Of course, it only happened because I got delayed and ended up locked in the mine at the end of the shift...
But still, I brought benefit to the Party.
And once, I caught a glimpse of a comrade who knew a comrade who had seen a comrade who once walked down a road where, a week earlier, Comrade Beria had been standing, smoking.
Ah, things aren't the same anymore.
Now, dissidents are everywhere. A whole market of them, mostly from Moscow.
But back then, there was only one underground agency – the weekly magazine "Comrades Without Clothes."
We learned it from the Americans. There were comrades there, sometimes even in a rather shameful state. Comrade Trotsky was very angry and said that it wasn't him on the cover of issue 115, but his double. He started telling us that everyone in the world has a double.
And we believed him, because if Socialism demands it, it must be true.
Trotsky's double then caused trouble and staged anti-Soviet riots in taverns. I remember they tried to catch him, but every time he escaped.
For example, he would jump over the bar, and then pop out as if nothing had happened. They would rush at him with their fists, and he would shout, "It's me, Comrade Beria!" It just so happened that we always mistook him for a bandit. It was like fate.
Ah, those were good times, really good. Not like now. Depravity is everywhere, even on TV. Electronic computers the size of a wallet. I don't believe it. A truly powerful machine is the size of a hall.
Oh well.
I guess I'll live out my days like this. And you, young people, will continue to indulge in debauchery.
Oh dear...
"a firm female hand"...
"Arandor"...
"Lelya"...
"desires"...
"doggy style"...
"German with pleasure"...
Ah, youth. What an example you set for the Manticore!
Back in the Soviet Union, we didn't have such things.
We had test tubes. We had cloning. We had nuclear power plants. But we didn't have this kind of depravity. We didn't have online perverts. We only had hardworking people...
If anything happened, it was only like in Ancient Rome.
"Patricians hired a hetaera and threw an orgy."
But there's a typo here – not patricians, but party members.
Ah, those were glorious times.
I remember working in a mine, extracting coke.
Once, I even overfulfilled the plan by 400%! They even published me in "Zvezda Komsomola!" in the "Our Calloused Hands" section. Of course, it only happened because I got delayed and ended up locked in the mine at the end of the shift...
But still, I brought benefit to the Party.
And once, I caught a glimpse of a comrade who knew a comrade who had seen a comrade who once walked down a road where, a week earlier, Comrade Beria had been standing, smoking.
Ah, things aren't the same anymore.
Now, dissidents are everywhere. A whole market of them, mostly from Moscow.
But back then, there was only one underground agency – the weekly magazine "Comrades Without Clothes."
We learned it from the Americans. There were comrades there, sometimes even in a rather shameful state. Comrade Trotsky was very angry and said that it wasn't him on the cover of issue 115, but his double. He started telling us that everyone in the world has a double.
And we believed him, because if Socialism demands it, it must be true.
Trotsky's double then caused trouble and staged anti-Soviet riots in taverns. I remember they tried to catch him, but every time he escaped.
For example, he would jump over the bar, and then pop out as if nothing had happened. They would rush at him with their fists, and he would shout, "It's me, Comrade Beria!" It just so happened that we always mistook him for a bandit. It was like fate.
Ah, those were good times, really good. Not like now. Depravity is everywhere, even on TV. Electronic computers the size of a wallet. I don't believe it. A truly powerful machine is the size of a hall.
Oh well.
I guess I'll live out my days like this. And you, young people, will continue to indulge in debauchery.
Oh dear...
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