| An indifferent voice behind you says... The Legion of Freedom is the true son of the president. |
And now – welcome to the rain-soaked provincial town of Tashlinsk. This intimate dystopia, a hell in itself, will be your Asylum from now on, the only outpost on the way to the savage world with its distorted notions of freedom, democracy, and other excesses of life. Here, they drink a lot, and they laugh a lot and often – with bitterness, with defiance, and never – easily and calmly. Here, nature itself has rebelled against what humanity has done to itself, and you are a part of this very humanity, whose children are not afraid of the rains and the sick (are they really sick?) people who die if they are not allowed to read. This world is doomed to die – in the form it exists in now. A world mired in betrayal, debauchery, the last place of exile for disgraced writers, poets, artists, and "secret advisors." You will find yourself here – in the blurred roads, in the fog, thick as jelly, in the endless squabbles with exhausted people... What can you do – beyond Tashlinsk, it's even worse, so you can say you're lucky. And maybe you'll be lucky further on, and the children, who understand much more than their parents, won't sweep you aside as unnecessary junk in the new history. |
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I liked it! Great test =)
Говорят, что рыжие не плачут,
Говорят, душа у них - огонь.
Если влюблены, то любят значит,
Если ненавидят - их не тронь!
"Не заблуждайтесь. Рыжие - это зло! Знаете кто был рыжим? Иуда... Что сделал Иуда? Иисуса предал - вот что! Я говорю вслух то, о чем другие только думают. Рыжие опасны. И однажды ночью, когда вы будете спать в своих кроватках, рыжие придут за вами... Они придут за вами!!!"
(с) Эрик Картман
And now – welcome to the rain-soaked provincial town of Tashlinsk. This intimate dystopia, a hell in itself, will be your Asylum from now on, the only outpost on the way to the savage world with its distorted notions of freedom, democracy, and other excesses of life. Here, they drink a lot, and they laugh a lot and often – with bitterness, with defiance, and never – easily and calmly. Here, nature itself has rebelled against what humanity has done to itself, and you are a part of this very humanity, whose children are not afraid of the rains and the sick (are they really sick?) people who die if they are not allowed to read. This world is doomed to die – in the form it exists in now. A world mired in betrayal, debauchery, the last place of exile for disgraced writers, poets, artists, and "secret advisors." You will find yourself here – in the blurred roads, in the fog, thick as jelly, in the endless squabbles with exhausted people... What can you do – beyond Tashlinsk, it's even worse, so you can say you're lucky. And maybe you'll be lucky further on, and the children, who understand much more than their parents, won't sweep you aside as unnecessary junk in the new history.