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meggigoering · 10 months

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📖August 31st, 2023

🦈In general, I had never followed Shabbat rules before, exactly until 2023. Since this winter, I began to try to do what all Jews consider mandatory to commit, but to be honest, I did not succeed too much in it. My active character and active body could not accept the fact that you just need to turn off for a day and devote yourself to blissful doing nothing. In the end, I found a compromise - I began to devote Saturday to reading paper books. This simple thing, just one day a week to read paper books, turned out to be incredibly effective for me. The first book read on the Shabbat was a manual for forensic investigators of Gross, which strengthened my confidence in the correctness of the hypotheses made. One of the sections of the manual was devoted to the methods used by criminals to avoid punishment or escape from the investigation. One of the traditional and common methods is to simulate a disease, mainly deafness, memory loss, speech loss, dementia, and other mental disorders. It is enough to read the biography of any werewolf who, with a help of the ZR/RIFLE program, became an official in Russia in pursuance of the Ost plan, being already wearing the uniform of a monk, pop star, or other prominent figure. Most of them simulated schizophrenia or other mental disorders. Vivid examples are Vyacheslav Ivankov, aka Patriarch Kirill Gundyaev. There is a full set of parameters - both the origin from the two Nazis, and the imitation of death, and the simulation of schizophrenia, and the head injury with a passion for circus craftsmanship, in the end - a thief-in-law who became the Primate of the Russian Orthodox Church. His subordinates are just as worthy - Gena-Chervyak, serial killer Sergei Shcherbakov, and other scum of society, who now disguised as cassocks preach in social networks about how to live properly. Gena-Chervyak, Papa Nose, and the misognose Shcherbakov have a lot of fans. A vast flock is fed by fraudsters.

Cancer simulation was actively used by another serial killer Sergei Tkach, better known in the world also as serial, but entrepreneur Oleg Tinkoff with a fake pedigree. Finally, a stinky opossum Shumilov Sergey Mikhaiovich with a fake passport, who sat in my inherited apartment, also plays out at the same time a selective loss of memory, speech, constipation, kidney disease, and schizophrenia, a certificate that he has a psycho. Only in the history of Samara, Orekhovskaya gang's graduates with a certified mental disorder, together with his Orekhovskaya gang girlfriends Shumilova Tatijana Vladimirovna with morbid obesity usually following the mental

illness (like a part of schizophrenia symptoms) and sick on the whole head (she fried cockroaches on the stove, made gingerbread by order for children, and this despite the fact that there was a knee-le-deer mustard gas, and her hair in the kitchen, and she tried to force me to deliver this "gingerbread" to the customers - by the way, don't think about ordering anything from her. The explosive mixture of mustard gas, cockroach shit and her pubic hair can only be acquired by gourmets like herself or such as Orekhovskaya gamg's stinky opossum).

Yesterday, the stinky possum doused the entire sofa (which I used to be allocated as a bed) with his poisonous chemistry and closed the windows more tightly so that my dogs would get sick faster. Since the chemistry turned out to be fresh and caustic, the sofa went for forensic examination along with other things poured at previous addresses in Moscow on Bakinskaya and Malaya Tulskaya. Well, there were some little things, from which there was also a train, be healthy. Let the experts now to understand, pour different substances on my things, documents and the sofa, or the same thing. This stinky schizophrenic is fully confident that if he has not yet been put his face on the floor, it will never happen, a complete moron. How else could we get such amazing fresh samples of his chemical poison and his DNA. I have DNA tests for myself and my dad. It is obvious that the stinky schizophrenic from Orekhovskaya gang is clearly not a prince from the Gediminids. Or, may be he expected that somebody wil invite him for tests? Haha. No.

In short, it's better not to order gingerbread from these assholes - they have certificates that they are crazy, and if your children from the gingerbread go to heaven, then these homegrown confectioners will still cover their asses with a certificate from the mental health hospital that they are psychos.

Digital image: by Kazuaki Horitomo.

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meggigoering · 8 months

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🦈Well, my back to the future journey is approaching the end. A couple of years ago, I've written the Parable About Talents post, and mentioned that I did not have an opportunity to live in Samara at the age of maturity. For me, this 6-months period became one of the most productive periods in my life ever, and even stinky and his company was unable to destroy it. Yesterday mad stinky with Tanyushka again tried to challenge the fate, so the criminal litigation now arriving at the destination point. I am looking forward to the start of court hearings, praying that this will open for me happy time, so much expected and necessary to completely dive only into business, sport, and education.

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meggigoering · 9 months

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📖October 8, 2023

🦈I haven't written anything these few days because I was very busy with my studies. I remind you that I study at two American universities, and my working and learning day looks very tight. From this dense calendar and to-do list, every day at least 40% was bitten by a stinky with his girlfriend Tanya Shumilova, and their heavenly patrons - the Angara maniac Mikhail Popkov (if anyone forgot, aka Sylvester, the leader of the Orekhovskaya gang, in the world an honorary elder, the patriarch of the Ancient Orthodox Church Kornily Titov), and his henchiks from the Sberalfa-VTB Systema. The fact that these scum devoured, I picked up time in the early mornings, but still both work and study suffer a lot because of these condoms. On Friday and Saturday, they ate just two days of cleaning after the fire and the lack of light in the apartment. What the fck is the fire, you ask? The real fire.

In short, in the long-suffering flat on Maslennikova 16-13 in case you missed everything, where I and my dogs were generously sweated by the mustard gas poison, there was expected to be a shmon. I mean, a search. Mustard gas is such a shit that is simply unrealistic to weather from the apartment where it has been for a long time. This crap penetrates through the chemical protection suit in 40 minutes, is easily absorbed into porous materials, and it is impossible to wash it from plastic and wood. Therefore, there were so many samples of chemistry in the apartment that the field for samples for toxicological and chemical examination was not plowed here. Since the stinky itself poured snot and pus from the lungs, the epicenter of storage and one of the main sources of distribution of deadly chemistry was in his pissed chambers. I assume that this bastard kamikaze wanted to live, so he probably kept his chemical shit on the balcony. Obviously, this outside storage did not save stinky, because his snot hung to his knees, and the pus from his lungs could be raked out with a shovel. So one visit to the smelly balcony and his pissed bedroom would basically make him the most flawed character in history.

In addition, there was a genetic test for the stinky, from which it clearly follows that this bastard is not related to me or to my testators. This genetic test was sent to me by the stinky himself. The test is a sample of stupidity, and its manufacturer (Academy of DNA Genealogy) deserves to receive the Darwin Award along with the stinky. A test with two fundamental errors that completely exclude the chance of a stinky not only of kinship with me, my grandparents, but the chance that the test is true. I will not provide a manual on how to deceive the law and "sweet fryers," I will briefly note that the stinky at the Academy of DNA Genealogy (remember this name) generated a fake combined test, in which they picked up a haplogroup from some princes just in case, and a haplotype from others, so that if anything fits in both cases. The little truth is that they were a little bit wrong with the names of the princes, and who on what line is related to my family. And so for the inhabitants of the object, the test looked very convincing. The stinky the great-grandson of Ivan the Terrible himself, in a straight male line, Rurikovich! Everything is beautiful and absofckyamazing, only the direct male ancestor in the male line of my dad and his dad was not Rurikid by direct male line, he is Gediminid. I'll save the rest of the details for later.

Well, I somehow remembered that the stinky was lying in a psychiatric hospital and many times he was visited at home by a good psychiatrist-narcologist.

Again, the performance of the stinky a week ago, when I asked for compensation for an ovarian rupture. I'm sticking out here with the Moscow medical insurance, I don't want to change it. I feel pretty lousy after a stinky confused me with a boxing bag and beat me - a stomach bruise, an ovarian rupture and a closed abdominal injury is not a light runny nose. As I wrote a week ago, the stinky (I remind you, a permanent client of psychiatrists and narcologists, who was lying in a mental hospital, who was diagnosed last year and written in the recommendations to solve the issue of his sanity) immediately called Tanya Shumilova, and asked her to organize the following: to falsify me a diagnosis of an alleged schizophrenia, and send me forever for compulsory treatment to free the apartment from my presence. Tanyushka sleeps and sees to get access to my property as soon as possible, and does not hesitate to falsify the grounds in order to get the right to dispose of it. Well, Tanya wants to ride my Porsche and live in my flat 196 on Leninsky 64/2, you can't order her heart! There and her daughter Valeria has already set up for me in the HASHEIGHT business - she bought Porsche sneakers, a business suit, IT textbooks, and books on law and accounting just stole from me. In short, the "family" is ready to accept my belongings, inheritance and property completely free of charge, there is only one issue left to solve - I'm still alive. Therefore, all the dialogues and gossip of Tanya and stinky about "schizophrenia" were due to the fact that these creatures were going to take care of me, and send me with someone else's name to a mental hospital, where I would be missing. It is clear, the treatment of my torn ovary was not in the plans of caring "parents" who only for the maintenance of their daughter the prostitute Lera milked more than 7 million rubles from me.

I accidentally recorded Tanya's conversation with the stinky, and without waiting for it to finish, I immediately went to the Investigative Committee to the investigator on duty.

In short, there were more than enough reasons to close the stinky and his girlfriends Tanya Shumilova and her relatives in the pre-trial detention center by October 1, 2023.

Feeling that the stinky and his girlfriends, instead of my inheritance, will now really draw a preventive measure in the form of sending to the madhouse, where they so diligently wanted to hand me over instead, this cute nut (in all aspects) family shit themselves and decided to solve the issue radically. Well, like there is no person and no documents - no problem.

So here it is. On Friday morning, October 6th 2023, I needed to run to the library, I'm now describing the functionality for prototypes, I need to read a couple of books with at least one eye. Well, that is, I have a plan for books that I need to read for work and study, and I, like in the movie "Quiet Place" every day, I go out on business and to the library.

It's scary, of course, the stinky with his girlfriends are rare scum, but no one promised that it would be easy. After learning that there would be a shmon (search), the stinky got up all week, neither light nor dawn, and even reduced the degree of mustard gas. On Friday, at 10:30 a.m., he finished his morning promenade, and I felt the chance to run and rushed to the library. I go out at 11-20, go to the library, and a funeral car is blocked on the way. I don't think to myself, damn it, will they really take the stinky and I'll finally make a funeral for my parents? I come to the library, and now I set a timer for 25 minutes due to an acute shortage of time. And so the timer rang three times, I'm looking at the cameras - everything seems to be calm in the apartment. Well, I think I'll allow myself another sprint. And what do you think - immediately a fire alarm starts yelling in the library. In short, remembering the morning funeral car, I put my feet in my hands and run back to the apartment. I think there are too many distracting unpleasant elements today. I come - a stinky in the apartment. Well, I think it's great - I'll feed the dogs now and go back. Harry eats 8 times a day after poisoning with mustard gas on fractional feeding. I gave the dogs semolina porridge to cook, and a kettle for myself. As soon as the stinky found out about the shmon, he lost his peace and sleep, he couldn't find the key to the attic, he needed urgently for unknown reasons. And wow - while the dogs were waiting for cooking porridge, I found the key under the closet when I was washing the floor. The stinky saw the key, rushed into the room to his place, took the key and left the apartment. I'm sitting waiting for the kettle. I feel that burnt paper stintles, it's not clear where it comes from. And then somebody knocks on the door: a neighbor from the 14th apartment says: hey your balcony is burning. I say - the stinky locked the rooms with a key. In short, the firefighters were called further. Three minutes later, there was such smoke in a pillar that I could barely open the window. At that moment, the stinky returned, and began to try to put out the fire himself. I managed to pull suitcases with documents to the stairs and bring the dogs out. Then, as in a bad dream, firefighters with oxygen cylinders for breathing began to climb the stairs, the spectacle is pure Silent Hill. But what is especially original, the freshly found key to the attic of the stinky did not share with them, pretending that there was no key and I took it for myself. This is still a plus the time while the firefighters were squeezing the door to the attic.

In short, 6 fire trucks, 24 firefighters, an ambulance, police, the Ministry of Emergency Situations, a day without light. And the day before, I put all my things and documents in bags and suitcases. So when everybody moved out, I went in, rubbed the bags and washed the floor. Well, since there was no light, I had a real Sabbath. The only shitty thing is that there used to be mustard gas with stinky urine, and now combustion products have been added to it. I'm sitting like in a "Hard's Hell" smokehouse. I understand that the absence of posts from me for several days, barbecue customers from the sistema "Sberalfa-VTB" secretly hoped that there was at least one human victim in the fire. Yes, guys. Your mental stinky employee Sergey Shumilov has a burnt face, because at your order, instead of a barbecue of me, my dogs and a fire from my documents, he burned in my apartment, which you rewrote on for your second psychic employee Lera Shumilova, one room and a balcony. Greetings from all the neighbors at this house section entrance, who perfectly understand what a fire in an apartment with a gas column means. They don't give a fck about your ways to solve problems and steal Andrey Leonidovich Kostin, Vladimir Petrovich Evtushenkov, Peter Olegovich Aven, German Oscarovich Gref. After the Lame Horse, the fire in the Winter Cherry, and the fire in the Samara Department of Internal Affairs, for you, of course, 60 people burned alive in the house section entrance, it's like not fucking doing. But for the population of the entrance, which was the day before yesterday very close to share the fate of these unfortunate people, your KPIs, bonus plans, and your understanding of "corporate social responsibility" do not matter. Fcking "Atlants" of Russian business.

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meggigoering · 9 months

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📖September 28, 2023

🦈We have a new entertainment. The stinky stopped interfering his chemistry with delicious urine supplements. Now the mustard gas in our apartment is as clean as a tear. The stinky moron is a moron, so he believes that such a hellish concentrate can spread around the apartment imperceptibly. It's full of pus lungs, and it feels like they've been full of bricks in the chest. And the eyes are completely covered with pus. Me and the dogs got sick from this fucking pneumonia, and we walk like rabbits with red eyes. Sergei Mikhailovich Shumilov's stinky smells a stream from his nose and lungs, but the stinky moron does not give up. His ass burns to the fullest, together with his girlfriend Shumilova Tatiana Vladimirovna, so the poisoners cut their chemistry to the maximum. I hope our neighbors will crucify him for this when they find out what is so delicious in the general ventilation of the house entrance. Me and my dogs recognized this smell, we were treated by this crap by another friend of "mother" Shumilova Tatiana Vladimirovna - Dr. Svetlana Fomina, who on the blue eye still took money from me for renting an apartment where we breathed this shit. In short, only these oligophrens - the Orekhovskaya gang family of the Shumilovs, Sveta Fomina with Asya Ramazanova, and their best friend Ali Uzdenov, who supplies them with this shit, naively believe that the poisoning is imperceptible and will not leave traces. Photos with ulcers and tests of my dogs have already flown around the investigative units and veterinarians. Now I have the same ulcers on my face, and the tests have already been drawn in full. The fact is that the mustard gas very characteristically changes the picture of blood, and in principle it is not difficult to find out what ozonated me and my dogs here. I would say that the unique trace left by the mustard gas in the blood of the poisoned person cannot be confused with anything. Only Uzdenov and his Orekhovsjaya family believe that they are clean. There's nothing surprising about that! The mustard gas, as I used to write, provokes a cruel runny nose, so the stinky does not feel his stench himself, it has snot to the knee. It is not surprising that Uzdenov with his employees and friends Ramazanova, Fomina, and Tanyushka Shumilova do not taste the odor, while their whole backs are in shit. These are all cruel jokes of the mustard gas, they beat off the aromas of even the very last shit.

The very juicy point for this community of professional stinky possums, that this mustard gas smell my grandfather, the genuine son of Mikhail Iiyuch Tolstoy and Elena Lvovna Koutchubei, who died in the same apartment from lung gangrene, which started as an acute pneumonia before, and my grandmother, the genuine daughter of Roman Ivanovich Bagration and Elena Aleksandrovna Volkonskaya-Rakhmanova, who suddenly fell ill and died with a series of heart attacks, would easily recognize. I would also laugh at coincidences, only an episode of beating me by a stinky until an ovarian rupture and a stomach bruise was handed over to the investigative department at the place of my grandmother's death. Actually, on this topic, a visit from the criminal investigation of the Samara Central Board took place to the long-suffering apartment on Maslennikova 16-13. If the personal visit of the slaughter department of the Samarsky glavk didn't reach the stinky, don't wait for miracles from publications on social media.

The fact that the stinky began to pour chemistry again was also clear from the way his theatrical inflammation of cunning sharply worsened again. And he pricks in his ass, and his heart hurts, and he will die soon. Like an opossum that pretends to be dead, exating the stench of dokhlyatina, opens one eye to watch the theatrical effect, the stinky performs the same thing. The beast is the beast.

Their ass burns to the fullest, that's why they try to finish me quickly, and, as it seems to them, cleverly, and imperceptibly finish me off. Now they are pouring shock doses of mustard gas, thank God now there is no stinky urine, and for some incomprehensible reason it seems to them that it is imperceptible. Poor Uzdenov, the man did not expect that his work to treat my teeth would go to dust. The creation of a beautiful bite of the future corpse of my future substitute did not lead to the desired result, but led to the transfer of the criminal case from Istra (where NP Bunkovo together with A1 are still in happily ignorance that there is a criminal case, judging by the answers they wrote to the FSB - they were sent to me, I read everything, laughed for a long time), to the glorious city of Samara, where there are still some morons from the Orekhovskaya gang family, who were settled in my inherited apartment, not at all embarrassed that the "dad" chosen to me does not look like, to put it mildly, to my dad, and even expertise is not required for this, since the absence of biological kinship of this character with my biological ancestors - grandparents and their ancestors, can obviously be seen with the naked eye. So the case was transferred to Samara for my house in Istra under a slaughter article. Now I'm sitting airing the apartment again, and with the first horse I'm already rushing to decide on the issue of these scum being closed in jail before the trial, since they can't and don't want to be free as white people while they are given such an opportunity. Therefore, today's post again, unfortunately, is not about productivity, and various cool things that I do, but again about the smelly stinky and terrorism. I hope, there are no unanswered questions left about what's the substance of my litigation against AFK Sistema SberAlfa-VTB. Just the murder of my both parents, my sister, my dogs, and numerous assasination attempts against me, if very roughly to explain the heart of the story. Oh yes, they also hacked a few accounts for me, and cut down the websites of the hasheight group's businesses, but these are trifles. I had to redo several sites and reload social media accounts, but these are such small issues considering the substance of the case. So the sites of HASHEIGHT, #davnosti, and Raevskaya Business School are not working yet as expected, they are under reconstruction, and I warned you. But now you know the reason.

Why have these bastards been in the sacred ignorance for so long that there are criminal cases? Yes, because no correspondence went to my mobile phones in the form of standard messages and calls. Confidentiality and data protection in the VTB Systema "SberAlfa Groupp" exist only in their social responsibility reports. In reality, they freely intercept and modify messages and wiretapping calls. What the fck about the organized "business" gangs that control all mobile communications in the country, such trifles as the law? Therefore, I did not discuss anything on the phone, did not correspond, and in general the communication was carried out in a different way. And since the methods and means of communication were unknown to these clowns - that is, they were without direct communication on a mobile phone, they believed that there were actually no communications or criminal cases. This is their first monstrous mistake.

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meggigoering · 9 months

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meggigoering · 9 months

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🦈5 completed assignments later, I am relaxing after the one more MTS case. Exhausted and absobloodylutely happy, I am free at last from these motherfckers phone numbers. One of them they closed in May, two others on August 7th. These dates talk better than words. Follow my #holybitchdiary, #hbpublishers, #studyslanguage, and #irregulaw to get fresh highlights of this story, and learn about the ritual crimes to understand the juicy MTS business practices.

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meggigoering · 9 months

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📖September 20, 2023

🦈Continuing the topic about the creature with a claim to the mind of the AFK Alfa-VTB Systema, which gloriously entered itself into my life, killing my family members, and to which, as in a corporation of monsters, my children's socks were poured up (shares in my companies, my apartments, inheritance, cars, dogs, personal belongings, etc.), I want to express my human position on one important issue.

Sometimes I wonder if everything could have gone differently in my life, and unfortunately every time life gives me new evidence that I was not given to live my life differently, because of my origin. My origin sets the direction of my whole life, and I can’t live someone else’s life. Among my relatives, I think I'm very lucky that I'm still alive so long. My heredity is bad in only one thing - almost 100% guaranteed violent death. In everything else, I am very grateful to God for being born in my family and for learning about my pedigree. Do I regret what I've lost in these few years of struggle to save my own life and life of my dogs? The question is rhetorical. All my life I've lived on the principle of "refuse to get." There were more than enough examples when following this principle led me to stunning success. It's a kind of strategy on the contrary - if you do it like everyone else, you won't survive in the red ocean. I do not regret material things, in the end, having learned that all of them were flooded mustard gas - I want to laugh with all my heart at those who stole them. If you consider how much and what I've lost in terms of things in the dry residue, it's a lot, but it hurts me in a completely different way. Having an absolutely amazing family (of course I'm talking about real relatives, not Orekhovskaya gang’s bastards), I actually lost the opportunity to communicate with my relatives. All my direct ancestors, who transferred me such a cumulative stock of genes, with the help of which I actually survived this nightmare, they died already. You can buy a new car, repair a house, a computer, fix all material losses. The only thing I regret, which is irreversible, is what these Orekhovo-Cocosovo bastards and their bosses did - they deprived me of communication with my family while its members were alive. I will talk to my family members never. Can you imagine what do I feel? I lost the greatest unrecoverable value - human communication with my family while it’s members were alive. The second thing that hurts me a lot is that these scums poisoned my dogs. And finally, the third is the shame with which these scum covered my family, entering into our pedigrees seashore with fake passports and forged genetic tests, like this Orekhovskaya family of parents-tourists.

At some point, I stopped being afraid of physical death. I perceive it as an inevitability that overtakes every person in due time, and which for me means reuniting with my family, which I personally never knew because everyone except me died. What feelings did I feel when I fully learned my ancestry and origin? Quite simply - the desire not to disgrace my family and live my life with dignity in accordance with the principles that my family professed. They are expressed in two words - to serve the Fatherland. The only aspiration that drives me in my projects is not to drop the honor of my ancestors and live my life in such a way as to shamelessly write my name in the history of my family on a par with my direct ancestors: heroes who created great states and performed military and personal feats. For me, this is the most important motivation - to be a worthy representative of my dynasty. Everything else is secondary.

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boostcmg · 10 months

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🎬On the BOOST's website you may find the Black List section

which includes the list of companies whose beneficiaries, directors, and employees, as well as all persons affiliated with them, have jointly participated in organized criminal activities under the guidance of the 3rd Reich criminal community, and partially described in the Hateful Eight, Heritage, and Nuremberg Ring sections of this site. These organizations and people are benefited from this criminal activity. Thus, we selected them into the list on the basis of criteria established by the UN Convention Against Transnational Organised Crime.

For all persons working in such organisations, and all involved in the commission of these crimes, criminal liability is provided for these acts, primarily by Chapter 34 of the Criminal Code of the Russian Federation.

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meggigoering · 10 months

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🦈I am an author of several inventions. The information about those which were already announced and submitted for registration, you may find in this section of my website. Also, I am an author of all designs, web pages, and their content which you observe in the internet on the websites of mine and my businesses.

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meggigoering · 10 months

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📖September 8th, 2023

🦈There is such an anecdote: standing in front of the mirror is a pimple, sweaty, smelly freak, with dirty dandruff-covered hair, in a crumpled old short-sleeved shirt, in shorts, and sandals worn on socks. He stands, looks at himself, and repeats: "I'm a shit (sounds like a "chmo" in Russian), I'm a chmo, I'm a chmo, I'm a chmo." From the next room, his mother shouts: "How many times should my son tell you, not a chmo, but a macho."

Today has outdest to many others in terms of its degree of disgust. I'll start from afar. Usually in crime movies, books and pop culture, criminals as antagonists appear as courageous testosterone males who dress with a needle, and can easily discharge the clip of the gun with their eyes closed into the seven of spades lying under the pillow in the next room. Such machos seem to be harsh and fair honest Robin Hoods in terms of concepts that are cooler, more effective, and faster than the law. Like here they are - real men, live according to the laws of honor and justice, will protect the widow and the weak, punish the scum-coundree. In short, after watching such bullshit, we then get a brood of children who want to be as cool and fair as Don Vito Carleone, or at least as cool crazy boys as Sasha Bely, the prototype of which is said to be Sylvester, the leader of the Orekhovskaya gang, aka Angarsk maniac Mikhail Popkov, a werewolf who was in the form of a policeman, who is in the top 4 in the world ranking of serial killers in terms of the number of victims. Just in case, I remind you that then Popkov imitated his death, and reincarnated in a new werewolf, only in a cassock. Pronin's operation "Werewolves in uniform" spoiled the image of the policeman's infallibility. Pronin himself was then framed by a set-up in the form of Evsyukov. Therefore, Popkov decided to become just a saint - Patriarch of the Old Believers Orthodox Church, Cornelius Titov. In Russia, paternalistic fatalism is the basis that brings darkening to the ignorant mind of the layman. The wolf can cut sheep right in the church without being ashamed of anything. On the contrary, believers "priests" will still prove that this is now a new trend in the liturgy.

What do these disgusting details say? Yes, about the fact that films idealizing criminals are shot with the money of the criminals themselves, this is a banal PR campaign. Serial killers in them appear in the image of almost holy just masters of the world. But what is happening in real life, and what I personally face, and other people who know the unsightly picture of the daily business of these "semplates" is so disgusting, awful, and nauseating that if at least one film about serial killers was shot honestly about what their life really looks like, instead of popcorn at the entrance to the cinema it would be necessary to distribute bags for vomit, as in airplanes. I'll give just two examples of what an ordinary day of two peppers of one from a cosa nostra and the second from the Orekhovskaya organized criminal group looks like. If you've already eaten tightly, it's better not to read it, otherwise it will turn it out.

In short, there was such a Genovese dick in the cosa nostra in the United States. He had a life sentence opportunity, and he pretended to be a psycho so as not to go to prison. He was fed almost around the clock by the police, and at the first flashes of consciousness he would immediately go for life sentencing.

Genovese wandered the streets in a bathrobe and slippers, talking to parking meters. On one of the shooters, Genovese chose one of the juniors in rank as his mouthpiece, but did not say a word for the whole meeting. During the meeting, he put his bare foot on the table, and began to cut his nails, cut his fingers, and blood flowed from the cuts. After the meeting, Genovese's acting skills were believed by all those present, who decided that he went really crazy. Great fate, that's exactly what you wanted for yourself and your child, dreaming of becoming a cool member of the cosa nostra clan, obviously. If this is not convincing enough, then here is the second example - a stinky opossum, who is currently serving his labor service in the apartment I inherited, pretending to be my murdered father, the news of which I received from the investigation. The stinky possum does not lose hope, hoping that I will die before the investigation ends, so he also pretends to have lost his memory, speech, frontal lobes of the brain and nape, about half a cent of the muscles, and the whole penis as a result of a stroke. Fck, science has never known such rare symptoms. The stinky walks along the entrance in panties, does not wash, does not shave, does not comb, playing all at the same time - a stroker, an alcoholic, and a schizophrenic with loss of memory and speech. In order for me to die faster, the stinky pours his hellish chemistry from the hernipreads everywhere he can reach, including my personal belongings and BOOST documentation. Really, when I made the BOOST website a couple of years ago, which had a photo of a girl who clamps her nose over something smelly and poisonous, I didn't know that I would definitely get into the topic. As I now remember this vanilla shit from standard publications in social networks: "what are we going to do with toxic assets" - increase value, and blablabla. Guys, remember the one thing - toxic assets they are not about value management

at all. Let this shit go, and believe me - there will be an ocean of shit. Just swim and even don't try to dive. So now, 9 years after the start of my business, I answer: wash, dry and ventilate, then number, sign and put on balance. No more than 15 minutes a day, and only in a spacious room with a through air flow. In a chemical protection suit.

I left the most juicy detail for those who still want to become like Sasha Bely from the series "Brigade." The stinky opossum interfered with his fucking stinch with his own urine, which he pissed in a three-liter jar. This explosive mixture of his urine and mustard gas, Sergei Mikhailovich Shumilov poured on the sofa brought by Shumilova Tatiana Vladimirovna into this flat, and where I was highly recommended to sleep. When I discovered the source of the stench, and demolished the soft part for examination (really - the perfect proof, as in the old joke about the inscription "the king-fool": the urine of the Duke of Buckingham, and the handwriting of the Queen), the stinky began to pour his urine with the mustard gas (just to remind: it is in liquid form) under the door so that it flowed into the corridor from which I am not separated by another door. And he poured urine with mustard gas on the stairs of the ladder standing in the corridor. Using it, the loving "daddy" barricaded the door from his "favorite daughter." Well, for sure, you dreamed of such a career for yourself or your child, wanting to become cool like Sasha Bely and his Orekhov prototypes. Mix an urine with a mustard gas, and play a schizophrenic.

Honestly, having collected today the flushes and swabs of urine with mustard gas from all the smelly puddles, the bathroom, taking samples of claws, fur, green purulent snot, skin scraping from ulcers from the dogs, and making a request to the SES for analysis of where to bring a suitcase of shit and a bucket of a mixture of urine with mustard gas, I'll tell you so. If you imagine the work of a lawyer as a dude who receives a lot of money for drawing up a standard application in a clean office in a freshly cleaned suit, then your ideas about the profession of s lawyer are akin to the idea of the image of a fair tractor driver from the Nizhny Novgorod region Sylvester and Vito Corleone according to the version of pop culture. That is, they are in a roughly different universe in relation to what is happening in real life.

👩‍💻The illustration is here:

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