Sacred Haven of Debauchery

Think about it, it's not nonsense.
There's probably a deeper meaning to be found here.

No, it's not nonsense! He's talking about Foma, and he's responding about Yerema. Elderberry grows in the garden, and Azi lives in Odessa. Everyone talks about what they know. A wolf, no matter how well-fed, always looks towards the forest.
The facts are that you spoke without thinking, without understanding! You commented without delving into the essence, contenting yourself with the froth on the surface, without drinking from the source of ancient wisdom. Like a child who has climbed into an incomprehensible conversation between parents, hearing only one word he knows and announcing that he himself made a mess in his potty. Adults are discussing mortgages, barbecues, the "Ninth Symphony," and "Flagman," and the child asks them to tell him a fairy tale. Girls are happily jumping in the garden, holding hands, and the child is hitting his one-year-old brother on the head with a shovel in the sandbox. A businessman is looking for the right number in his phone book, and the child is drooling and playing with toy soldiers. A young man is helping an old woman cross the street, and the child is picking cucumbers in the garden and shoving them into his anus. The excellent student Yegor is going to a regional harmonica competition, which will determine his future, and the child is sticking his paws into a chocolate cake and, grunting like a pig, smearing it all over his face. The captain is setting off on a long voyage to Singapore, and the child is trying on his mother's tights. Anatoly is opening his beer stall near the railway station to make a lot of money, and the child is writing nonsense on a forum, not understanding the essence of the previous post, spouting rubbish in his pretentious, sarcastic, and stupid tone, and then tries to convince everyone that he himself opened a kvass stall at the market.