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During his speech Trump broke off from his planned remarks to praise three “big, strong, good-lucking guys” he had seen waiting in the line outside the event.
“Where are they?” Trump asked the crowd. “You can’t miss ’em: big, strong, handsome Oklahoma studs.”
He proceeded to summon two men on to the stage.
“These are studs,” Trump said. “Wow.”
The crowd laughed nervously, unsure how to react to this intimate scene. But perhaps they shouldn’t have been surprised. Perhaps this was just the natural culmination of one man’s growing fascination with azzes, jawlines and steel-like shoulders, a preoccupation that Trump seems to enjoy, but which seems unlikely to help Republicans on 3 November.
For the recent protests, its repertoire has included The Hanging Tree from The Hunger Games, and the theme from Marvel’s The Avengers film. “Music from a superhero movie on a day of social struggle seemed appropriate” said the conductor.
[...]
Solzhenitsyn grumbled about borders and Lenin, who had transferred far too much Russian land to the Ukrainian SSR. Nevertheless, his central position was: “I’m not going to war against Ukraine, and I won’t let my sons go either.” His sons did indeed stay out of this war, but, as they say, there’s a catch.
There are also his personal ties with the widow and the promises Putin made to her publicly and, apparently, privately. When she was invited to take part in one of TV Rain’s liberal human rights projects, she declined: she doesn’t like that sort of activism. She is prepared to speak out only if Vladimir Putin starts reassessing her husband’s legacy.
It's good that there is no Russia.
It's good that there is no God.
Only the yellow dawn,
Only the icy stars,
Only millions of years.
It's good that there's no one,
It's good that there's nothing,
So black and so dead,
That it could not be any deader
And could never be any blacker,
That no one will help us
And there's no need to help.
Possessing a sharp, critical mind, Ulyanov immediately grasped this glaring blunder by the Tsarist gendarmerie. "An enemy of the throne and the fatherland—the brother of a regicide—and left without any surveillance!" Once he came to power, he made sure never to repeat such mistakes. "Those who are 'dubious' or 'discontented'—into a concentration camp!"—so he wrote in his notes back in 1918. And by the twentieth anniversary of Soviet power, the banks of the Yenisei—where the leader of the Party had once spent time resting—had become literally overgrown with concentration camps.
In 1867, Tsar Alexander II, sensing that the empire might choke on its own enormous size, sold Alaska to America for 7 million 200 thousand dollars. For a long time, Americans reproached their Secretary of State for having purchased a useless box of ice.
But it soon became clear that Alaska had oil, gold, and non-ferrous metals. It was then that people realized what an appetizing slice of the Russian pie had slipped into foreign hands.
Perhaps I'm a bad patriot: I look at these lands under a foreign flag and feel not the slightest regret. Because one only has to imagine...
I know, I know that this is not a scientific approach; one cannot speak of history in the subjunctive mood. And yet, suppose for a moment that Alaska had remained Russian, and therefore subsequently become Soviet. What would have happened to nature, to the animals, to the people?
Well, fast forward to now and... Welp, we're now living together. So it really was that simple
Also, an association word cloud with Artificial (ingredients, flowers, light, synthetic fibres, fake) It's all super negative... where as super... (super powers, superman, super duper, super-size, supermarket, superstore, supercar, super computer, superfood, super speed, super strength)
The small town folk stereotype has a lot of basis in truth.
First, we must preserve hope that, at the right moment, the Lord will send the right people: a community, a normal priest, and a normal spiritual mentor. These are different things, as you understand.
Second, we should remember the well-known joke about the flood. A man has climbed onto a roof. A boat approaches him, and they say, ‘Come with us.’ He replies, ‘No, God will save me.’ Then a helicopter arrives, and again he says, ‘No, God will save me.’ Finally, as he is drowning, he cries, ‘God, when are You going to save me?’ And God replies, ‘I sent you both a helicopter and a boat.’
Still, I would put it this way: there is no need to worry too much about this. The discussed person used a remarkable phrase: ‘I was lucky.’ It sounds like fatalism, but I do not think it is fatalism. What the devil do you mean, ‘lucky’? We are being carried by God’s chariot. We are sitting in it. Saint Christopher was a dog-headed man. He carried a child on his shoulders, and the child turned out to be Jesus. Then Christopher received a human head.
In other words, after becoming disillusioned with atheism, most people did not turn to the Church. The religious influx of the 1990s was not actually that large, I assure you, judging by the statistics: twenty to thirty percent, but it was always a minority. Many people had a purely pragmatic interest. Not a selfish one, since they also donated money, but an interest in fitting into the emerging, transformed state, in which Marxism had been replaced by ‘Orthodoxism.’