October 31, 2022 at 5:43 PM
Criminal
I was on the criminal path, on the dark path, when I was still in school, I changed my grades in the teacher's log and in my diary, it worked at school and then it worked at technical school, until I was cheeky, my grades in chemistry and materials science turned from F's to A's, and if I was not present - N, to 4. How fucked up are these chemical formulas: sodium chlorine, bauxite - suck a dick. Why the fuck did I go into a technical field? A career as a factory guy doesn't impress me at all.
Technical school was considered a prestigious institution of the city, students came out as foremen, masters and shop stewards of the large plants of the Urals. The competition for free tuition, four people per place, and then even in the first year a third of the group filtered out. And then the teacher opens the register, she sees the problem, it was convenient to correct her "D" to "A", in the line of my name is three straight "A", asks me to pass her work done in A4 format, but there are fake marks with her signature.
- This is not my handwriting! And that one! And that one!
- Okay, okay, I got you. Why don't I redo it?
- You'll give me the whole course again! - threatened Tamara Mikhailovna. But she was kind, she did not rat on me to the boss, she left me to study materials science after classes.
When the electric guitar, cigarettes and alcohol appeared in my life during the third year, I started not attending classes from time to time. At home I had a computer, a scanner and a color printer. After receiving a certificate of exemption from classes in the hospital, I thought: "What if? I scanned the certificate, edited it in Photoshop and distributed it at the technical school. But this case was shut down by the head teacher, who apparently saw that a lot of people with certificates from the same precinct had been getting sick lately.
- Fuck, she's so dumb, how did she figure it out? - I asked.
- I don't know, but I didn't turn you in. -Reported a classmate.
She was dumb and looked like a monkey from a cartoon about a mother monkey who could not keep track of her children. For Teachers' Day, the three of us all chip in and buy her a bunch of bananas.
- Happy Holidays. - We hand her the bananas across the table while we try not to burst into tears.
- Thank you guys! - Taking the fruit, we leave the office and ha-ha-ha. This story became a legend in our department. Three years later, I meet a dude who was younger than me and studied later. I asked:
- Is the monkey still there?
- Yeah, you know, her seniors gave her a bunch of bananas.
- Come to think of it, it was us and we also gave her a nickname.
In general, the idea was Pacifist, and I and Kostya just supported the idea. Now I understand why they wanted to expel me, but they failed, the economist stood up for me and director gave me a chance to pass all term papers and drawings in 3 days.
- Pfft, easy! - It was actually all done a long time ago, it was just reluctant. In the evening we rehearse in the garage, we have a concert at the club soon, booing, climbing on the roof of the garage with the exclamation: "look how I can," I jump and break my arm. I could pass all my term papers, drawings and diploma with a cast, the lecturers, seeing the condition I was in, put the marks automatically. Playing bass at the club with a broken arm in a cast was no fun either. Everyone probably thought it was a stage image and Pacifist wore a doctor's suit, but that's another story. Everyone was fucked up when he came to the defense of his diploma as one of the first, the economist on the committee said:
- You didn't believe in him, well done!
I was crossing the road in a special place to buy booze in a stall, and a traffic policeman stood across the street.
- Come here. - The policeman waves his baton.
- Nope. - I pick up my speed in the opposite direction.
- Stop, I say. - The traffic policeman must be new to the job, after the army. I run in a suit with a white shirt and tie on the lawn, a plaster on my torso, an uncomfortable position for a sprinter, let me tell you. He catches up with me and asks:
- "Are you an athlete?
- Sort of. - They gave me a 100p fine, but that didn't stop me from taking my port, getting drunk and pissing myself afterwards.
As I continue to experiment with the scanner, my mom's fare catches my eye. What if...? I scan and print the ticket on a color printer, cut off the hologram from the old fare and glue it to a copy, laminate it. It looks just like the real thing. Let's go. I show the conductor on the bus, no problem, I make a couple more and give them to my friends. Fuck the municipality. Criminal. I take the money out of my jeans pocket and put it back, what stopped me then? The quality of the printer or the severity of the Criminal Code article, remembering that previously such jokes were punishable by death. Probably both. After graduating from high school, I'm looking for a college. Go to UPI further in the technical part? I don't want to. I'm sick of mechanisms, tolerances, fits, anchor bolts. Law school? Fuck that! Administrative, criminal, procedural, land and other codes, laws with concepts and wording that can break your brain. No way. The economy? Market, dough, debit-credit. I don't see why not. I'm applying to IT in economics.
At the institute, all the computers were connected locally. I go to my computer nerd, copying all the information from there and pouring to a thumb drive, change the name in the term papers and essays and voila, pass it as his. Once I skipped the entire course of computer science, I come only for credit, you need to pass the tests on the PC, the ticket 20 questions with three choices of answers, if failed, you can zero in and start over. I write down the answer choices on a piece of paper and refresh. 12 correct answers. I refresh. 15 correct answers. I refresh. By method of elimination, until I reach 20 out of 20. Grades 5. I call the lecturer to give me my report card.
- Five? I didn't have you in any of my classes.
- I studied at home. Dima used to bring me my method books. - Dima on my right hand nods his head.
- Will you take the test again?
-No problem. - The whole test took me five minutes. - But I had a fever. I came here to take the test. - I really felt like crap.
- All right, give me your report card. - and look at the log of my past grades. - You got pretty good grades in your other classes freshman year. What happened? - Work, not much time.
The factory took all my energy from 8:00 to 5:00, five days a week, fuckinshit. I also had to make time for a girlfriend, a ride in a car, rehearsals, taxiing and booze. I had to combine all that and drive drunk. If you don't have experience driving a drunk master, it can have a bad effect on the health of your car. My first car was a wreck, especially the front end. I used to just fall out from behind the wheel and bottles would fall on the roadway.
There are "bugs" in the system, finding them can break it. The state has cuckolded the entire population of the country and fucks them without lubrication, you have to be a masochist to enjoy this kind of treatment of yourself. It's not shameful to fuck over the state, it's shameful to cheat the poor citizens of your country by taking their grandmothers' pensions, picking the pockets of the drunk, taking money from the workers' paychecks, and throwing their families in the crapper. Scammers and swindlers of all kinds who make a living in such a way do not do any harm to the country's elite. So the penalties for such actions are minimal, but if you, God forbid, print money or sell drugs or... Then the punishment will be maximum, because that is their prerogative, their controlled territory, which is not allowed.
Many authors at the beginning or at the end of the book write words of gratitude to people who don't mean anything to the reader, it always made me sick and I'd like to take the opportunity to tell them to fuck off first of all these authors and second of all the others in the list below: Moscow rap - fuck you, Article 228 and the whole Criminal Code - fuck you, school - fuck you, the one who invented Nexia - fuck you, Vladimir, who borrowed 70k from me, fuck you, faggot with a Chinese - fuck you, all of Ostankino with its TV channels - fuck you, Fuck Pashka Durov and his FSB wagon, fuck all the colors of the rainbow, fuck sauerkraut and fish patties, fuck all the three-letter words, fuck the globe and the solar system, fuck the list yourself, you have complete freedom of imagination to tell me who to fuck.
I was on the criminal path, on the dark path, when I was still in school, I changed my grades in the teacher's log and in my diary, it worked at school and then it worked at technical school, until I was cheeky, my grades in chemistry and materials science turned from F's to A's, and if I was not present - N, to 4. How fucked up are these chemical formulas: sodium chlorine, bauxite - suck a dick. Why the fuck did I go into a technical field? A career as a factory guy doesn't impress me at all.
Technical school was considered a prestigious institution of the city, students came out as foremen, masters and shop stewards of the large plants of the Urals. The competition for free tuition, four people per place, and then even in the first year a third of the group filtered out. And then the teacher opens the register, she sees the problem, it was convenient to correct her "D" to "A", in the line of my name is three straight "A", asks me to pass her work done in A4 format, but there are fake marks with her signature.
- This is not my handwriting! And that one! And that one!
- Okay, okay, I got you. Why don't I redo it?
- You'll give me the whole course again! - threatened Tamara Mikhailovna. But she was kind, she did not rat on me to the boss, she left me to study materials science after classes.
When the electric guitar, cigarettes and alcohol appeared in my life during the third year, I started not attending classes from time to time. At home I had a computer, a scanner and a color printer. After receiving a certificate of exemption from classes in the hospital, I thought: "What if? I scanned the certificate, edited it in Photoshop and distributed it at the technical school. But this case was shut down by the head teacher, who apparently saw that a lot of people with certificates from the same precinct had been getting sick lately.
- Fuck, she's so dumb, how did she figure it out? - I asked.
- I don't know, but I didn't turn you in. -Reported a classmate.
She was dumb and looked like a monkey from a cartoon about a mother monkey who could not keep track of her children. For Teachers' Day, the three of us all chip in and buy her a bunch of bananas.
- Happy Holidays. - We hand her the bananas across the table while we try not to burst into tears.
- Thank you guys! - Taking the fruit, we leave the office and ha-ha-ha. This story became a legend in our department. Three years later, I meet a dude who was younger than me and studied later. I asked:
- Is the monkey still there?
- Yeah, you know, her seniors gave her a bunch of bananas.
- Come to think of it, it was us and we also gave her a nickname.
In general, the idea was Pacifist, and I and Kostya just supported the idea. Now I understand why they wanted to expel me, but they failed, the economist stood up for me and director gave me a chance to pass all term papers and drawings in 3 days.
- Pfft, easy! - It was actually all done a long time ago, it was just reluctant. In the evening we rehearse in the garage, we have a concert at the club soon, booing, climbing on the roof of the garage with the exclamation: "look how I can," I jump and break my arm. I could pass all my term papers, drawings and diploma with a cast, the lecturers, seeing the condition I was in, put the marks automatically. Playing bass at the club with a broken arm in a cast was no fun either. Everyone probably thought it was a stage image and Pacifist wore a doctor's suit, but that's another story. Everyone was fucked up when he came to the defense of his diploma as one of the first, the economist on the committee said:
- You didn't believe in him, well done!
I was crossing the road in a special place to buy booze in a stall, and a traffic policeman stood across the street.
- Come here. - The policeman waves his baton.
- Nope. - I pick up my speed in the opposite direction.
- Stop, I say. - The traffic policeman must be new to the job, after the army. I run in a suit with a white shirt and tie on the lawn, a plaster on my torso, an uncomfortable position for a sprinter, let me tell you. He catches up with me and asks:
- "Are you an athlete?
- Sort of. - They gave me a 100p fine, but that didn't stop me from taking my port, getting drunk and pissing myself afterwards.
As I continue to experiment with the scanner, my mom's fare catches my eye. What if...? I scan and print the ticket on a color printer, cut off the hologram from the old fare and glue it to a copy, laminate it. It looks just like the real thing. Let's go. I show the conductor on the bus, no problem, I make a couple more and give them to my friends. Fuck the municipality. Criminal. I take the money out of my jeans pocket and put it back, what stopped me then? The quality of the printer or the severity of the Criminal Code article, remembering that previously such jokes were punishable by death. Probably both. After graduating from high school, I'm looking for a college. Go to UPI further in the technical part? I don't want to. I'm sick of mechanisms, tolerances, fits, anchor bolts. Law school? Fuck that! Administrative, criminal, procedural, land and other codes, laws with concepts and wording that can break your brain. No way. The economy? Market, dough, debit-credit. I don't see why not. I'm applying to IT in economics.
At the institute, all the computers were connected locally. I go to my computer nerd, copying all the information from there and pouring to a thumb drive, change the name in the term papers and essays and voila, pass it as his. Once I skipped the entire course of computer science, I come only for credit, you need to pass the tests on the PC, the ticket 20 questions with three choices of answers, if failed, you can zero in and start over. I write down the answer choices on a piece of paper and refresh. 12 correct answers. I refresh. 15 correct answers. I refresh. By method of elimination, until I reach 20 out of 20. Grades 5. I call the lecturer to give me my report card.
- Five? I didn't have you in any of my classes.
- I studied at home. Dima used to bring me my method books. - Dima on my right hand nods his head.
- Will you take the test again?
-No problem. - The whole test took me five minutes. - But I had a fever. I came here to take the test. - I really felt like crap.
- All right, give me your report card. - and look at the log of my past grades. - You got pretty good grades in your other classes freshman year. What happened? - Work, not much time.
The factory took all my energy from 8:00 to 5:00, five days a week, fuckinshit. I also had to make time for a girlfriend, a ride in a car, rehearsals, taxiing and booze. I had to combine all that and drive drunk. If you don't have experience driving a drunk master, it can have a bad effect on the health of your car. My first car was a wreck, especially the front end. I used to just fall out from behind the wheel and bottles would fall on the roadway.
There are "bugs" in the system, finding them can break it. The state has cuckolded the entire population of the country and fucks them without lubrication, you have to be a masochist to enjoy this kind of treatment of yourself. It's not shameful to fuck over the state, it's shameful to cheat the poor citizens of your country by taking their grandmothers' pensions, picking the pockets of the drunk, taking money from the workers' paychecks, and throwing their families in the crapper. Scammers and swindlers of all kinds who make a living in such a way do not do any harm to the country's elite. So the penalties for such actions are minimal, but if you, God forbid, print money or sell drugs or... Then the punishment will be maximum, because that is their prerogative, their controlled territory, which is not allowed.
Many authors at the beginning or at the end of the book write words of gratitude to people who don't mean anything to the reader, it always made me sick and I'd like to take the opportunity to tell them to fuck off first of all these authors and second of all the others in the list below: Moscow rap - fuck you, Article 228 and the whole Criminal Code - fuck you, school - fuck you, the one who invented Nexia - fuck you, Vladimir, who borrowed 70k from me, fuck you, faggot with a Chinese - fuck you, all of Ostankino with its TV channels - fuck you, Fuck Pashka Durov and his FSB wagon, fuck all the colors of the rainbow, fuck sauerkraut and fish patties, fuck all the three-letter words, fuck the globe and the solar system, fuck the list yourself, you have complete freedom of imagination to tell me who to fuck.
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