ABBA VITE's Liberalist Novel

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

FINALE-BOOK, SAY TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FORM OF PURE ART

(Tags: Soviet influence, Iran, North Korea, Turkey, Syria, Morsi’s Egypt, Cuba)

Then again, the researcher bird Evelyn…
Lenin: Description of the sketch recorded in the mind by and daily NOTES-3 OCTOBER 1919 Crimea. A few VERST-Russian distance units in height-, longer in width than height-Question: "But isn't height the taller one?"
Evelyn answers:
“Don't mess with it!”- and a highland greened by the autumn rains… Stay your spring animals, coo-coo, HEHHEH!
Who laughed? Everyone put their hands on the desk and look towards the board. At the expense of rewriting grammar, we'll speak Latin and find that giggling bastard together. I've been degenerate all together-our will is tired of to have been used in the sentences beginning with “One will…” huh!
That's all, everyone is guilty, slimy among us, we are a whole, this whole is guilty, slimy. We probably won't be silent in the face of slimy and criminal people: We can't just pick pears. Let's say amen together; let's curse them. Let's go back to our descriptions of nature: The land is adorned with gentle slopes, and the top of the slopes sometimes gives the impression of afforested. The movement is a bit confused around here: the sheep freeze in the frosty night for no reason, and I think they're turning into trees. These animals, whose dyed feathers are frozen, glow in the twilight: yellow-green, purple, red, even a deep dark blue with lead-colored honeycombs. The life of colorful animal-trees will come to an end when the ice melts, because it is impossible not to see how long-legged animals such as rams, mosquitoes, storks and giraffes, standing erect on their frozen legs, fall to the ground when the weather gets warmer and the frost thaws, and the heart withstands the sight seen... it slides down the hillside and you are incapable of making a sketch of the land that your grandfathers have seen from a bird's eye view - who knows how many thousand times -.
Part of the land is the shooting range of the soldiers. Their practice shooting scorches lemurs, wet dead animals, and vigorous voles with life springing from their dusty skins! The area of an area covered with ashes cannot be measured, teacher, we cannot calculate it.
Vladimir Ilyich Lenin's weakest lover Evelyn. …She. can't cope with the gliding answers given by the militants of Lenin took the ship so low to say, “The weather has warmed up, the triangles have expanded”. The state can destroy this politburo at any time, as a matter of fact… Here's what happens before the train enters a tunnel leading to a medium-sized mountain: What? What happened?
Lenin spoke to Evelyn,
-I invite you to the wagon restaurant, young lady. What is my name? Vladimir, of course. I am Lenin, who, for moral reasons, got off a carriage and got on another carriage and broke through the door

ABBA VITE's Liberalist Novel

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

FINALE-BOOK, SAY TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FORM OF PURE ART

(Tags: Soviet influence, Iran, North Korea, Turkey, Syria, Morsi’s Egypt, Cuba)

Some of the comrades tried to keep awake but sleep would be resisting. Evelyn gave start to her most favorite pre-sleeping tale, say Ali Baba and Forty Thieves: The most guaranteed dealer of mesmerizing community…continue to sell at forty-one points, and while some of the soporific pills are waiting for customers in fixed bundles, some of them are spinning on special devices with batteries. Communist Heaven-Yes INFERNO, you read it right, our famous author named Inferno induced communist hell put this issue in the Evelyn’s tale with the logic of large intestine amoebae.
The or a secret madam who fell from a tree and the man who loves her are stuck with the ticket loop throughout the novel… The evil leader Vladimir Ilic Lenin fires a mortar from a barracks and detonates the loop, the man protecting the secret madame-Evelyn? - goes blind; the man's eyes open, this time madame is wearing black but her glasses. They should have get married before they beg for mercy on the streets by acquiring a blind coyote or a hyena—a dictatorial Soviet general—like them, pulling it off the leash, and sometimes putting it on traitors.
The glasses number of the officer who married them is thicker than twelve and a half, that is, the size of the bottom of the water glass, but on the one hand, Evelyn caresses Lenin and on the other hand wants us to have pity on her heroes; So much so that he sends an Turkish Islamic terror induced militant and makes the wedding officer's eyes gouged out, just because the tale tellers the creator of the types I wrote anyway… In short: so-and-so, comme si comme ça; challenge is your horse/horse’s horse and birds will eat it too!



One should confess that all those Hyper Realist utterings was coming from the dusty archive shelves of the main cosmic department X, that-meanwhile-was waiting for a little comments; it did have some preliminary notes on the matter, but as often and understandably happens, and indeed should happen, in view of the meticulous nature of all the literary work done, the head of department was relying on us to send something as commentary, whereupon one would either appoint the dwarf English Aphrodite or, if necessary, correspond with Vladimir Ilyich Lenin on the subject further. As a result, he might have neglected to look at the preliminary notes and let the whole affair lapse into oblivion. In another cosmic department Anti-X, however, the cover of the file reached an official well known for his conscientiousness, Stalin by name, a promising butcher. Even to me, and I’m in the know, it’s hard to understand why a man of his abilities is left languishing in one of the lowest-ranking positions of all. Well, this Stalin naturally could have misled us back th

ABBA VITE's Liberalist Novel

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

FINALE-BOOK, SAY TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FORM OF PURE ART

(Tags: Soviet influence, Iran, North Korea, Turkey, Syria, Morsi’s Egypt, Cuba)

A futurist-one of the most intimate friends of Lenin-gave start to his narration:
-‘A shot from afar! One of the best moments your team has experienced and experienced in this match: the goal is scored, hard and accurate shot and it goes to the nets..’.
After 30 years, Evelyn-as a haggard because of her old age-would add something to the tale:
-‘One winter night, you are listening to the match of the colors you have been keeping since the third grade of primary school, played against their arch-rival on A. Radio. M. On your television, optimistic crass, old-school-high bureaucrat patient of patience SABRI TANDOGAN-see in google-talks about the virtues that will lead human beings to happiness: mastery, respect, benevolence, optimism and patience! Optimistic fool and patient of patience S. TANDOGAN does not understand how our happiness will explode when these qualities come together, he tries to explain things he does not understand to the people, with a terrible expression that makes the calm sick... You realized you've grown! You were rebelling against fate, realizing that if your team were defeated, you would lose everything that gave you confidence and trust. However, in the third grade, every Sunday afternoon, you used to watch the match on the radio at your home. Outside, a golden-haired sun shimmering, softly surrendering itself to winter, green leaves turning autumn-red, yellow-faced, thin, consumptive clouds mingled with their own hands, exacerbating their own sadness, and trembling on the branches at every moment as if they betrayed their mention of Allah.’.
Backing to the future, let’s hearken
The opposing team took the first corner kick of the match, the spin ball centered towards the back post brought your heart into your mouth. On the screen, the heartfelt conversation of the optimistic fool is melting and flowing down his cheeks like a dirty white syrup… Come and enjoy the football broadcast on the radio with the nerves that this advice-seeking fool has broken… Then you conceded the goal. Situation one-on-one, damn it; let's talk, for example, we said!
Matches are parts of your destiny web. Your destiny sometimes makes you happy and makes you cry with cultural points; sometimes with the national lottery, sometimes with your business life. Matches are part of your web of destiny: you froze your happy moments in live broadcasts; You've always been the same age. On the other hand, the optimistic crass of heart-talk named patient of patience S. S. TANDOGAN continues to age; a loose, peaceful, dishonest life is his, he is hurting the people. He and his wife are the murderers of all your children who died at the front… They are: the peaceful idiot and his beloved wife. They both wr

ABBA VITE's Liberalist Novel

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

FINALE-BOOK, SAY TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FORM OF PURE ART

Mandatory Episode:
(Additional notes by Evelyn-dwarf British Aphrodite-in the chaotic Kremlin.)
LOVER AND LOVED ARE NOT HARMFUL PEOPLE
They are indeed harmless, but this assessment is only correct within the context of non-sexually infatuated states… Because here or there the assessment is not meant to laugh or make you laugh; Since it is not even possible for the lover and the loved one to be considered alone in the same room, if one is here, the other is there - in fact, the lover and the loved one have stretched and thinned the atmosphere between them by interacting from far, far away. If we expand the narration a little, it can be said that in a thin layer of air, like a membrane that allows romanticism, both lovers and loved ones do a job that requires the least oxygen: they choose the appropriateness to a reality that is small enough to ensure that it is perceived as much as the other party thinks, even beyond what it is supposed to be. protect the shoulder.
Apropos body selling apart from both platonic or non-platonic love one would remember something not good so far.. In the slang of Erzurum, which was once ruled by the Russian Imperial armies, it was called "school" - the most disgusting term inherited from the Ottoman language - brothels; but in our title, school…
Schools are also harmless, but also harmfully useless. Did the historical villain Genghis Khan, in other words, the leader of evil, whose evil cannot be disputed, learned evil from the schools he went to: no. He is certainly the worst person to ever have had enough political deception to take the lead, while appearing to be a nice guy to his fellow students and teachers.
Everyone who reads the mystical interview in the continuation of the narration already understands that this is so. The so-called socialists of Turkey and Syria are anti-workers, their crude nationalists are murderers of the nation, and even the schools could not teach them—let alone inculcating virtue—dry, unrequited, even vulgar, vulgar love.

ABBA VITE's Liberalist Novel

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

FINALE-BOOK, SAY TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FORM OF PURE ART

(Tags: Soviet influence, Iran, North Korea, Turkey, Syria, Morsi’s Egypt, Cub

As for my request to move in with them for a limited time, the person who appeared to be responsible just took me by the hand and dragged me to the iron vehicle without asking if my family had permission. A temporary attempt at travel apparently did no harm to the traveler. Women driving prams, their golden-day friends, bulldogs gliding past us, asking to listen to my old age experiences with their pet-for example-eyes that gave the impression of straying because the leash chain was kept long. At one point, one of those unseen strong hands grabbed the elbow of a person sitting in the corner of the vehicle, with sparse hair glued from right to left, and pulled it out. The part of the organ that went from elbow to shoulder that had been engulfed in flames during the withdrawal. However, neither a burning sound nor a scream was heard. When I thought, "These flames are probably similar to home accessories that illuminated the photo of a burning log with a light bulb from the back," and wanted to stick my arm out, a burning sound at a temperature of at least four to five thousand degrees upset my balance, I immediately jumped down and found myself again in front of the state material directorate; With my finding, I ran to the provincial library.
A Counter-Factory script came out of the library drawers full of book guide compass, okay?
Counter-Revolution and Counter-Factory Through the Eyes of a Long-lived, Happy Citizen
Pretty long title huh? Hah hah…There is nothing to laugh about in that though, because human beings don't want to think too much about the inevitable toils of life. Especially in such a case, never! In any case, the mine wagons carrying raw materials to the "Counter Factory" were not visible from the outside!
I think it is important to convey how the author, who chose his pen-name as "long-lived happy citizen", addressed the young people in the first paragraph of his work:
“The boys are going to get married—most of them named Jasmin (who knows where the author got this from…

TO BE CONTINUED...

Finally, continuing where I left off, read the author:
'Young people, the title of " Counter-Factory," is actually a noun phrase younger than your youngest. As a matter of fact, its existence is old, its knowledge is new as time passes—almost not yet formed—identical to the brand new. The reason for this can be found in the absence of a secretary even though I am an experienced writer: my secretary could at least put me on the path of writing a book on more familiar issues by looking up from the keyboard and looking intently into my eyes. I mean, if there was a person as an assistant next to me or someone at the top of literature, I wouldn't write a book that awaited definitions through concepts. On the other hand, it's good that I defined the Counter-Factory, so everything has a beginning, everything turned out well; otherwise, despite the Counter-Factory, rail vehicle, which I had seen several times with my own eyes and even got on, I would have walked in the line of the average citizen and walked without expression. Although, Counter-Factory, is still the most obligatory work to be written in our experienced, old world. However, people can do without it, even they cannot comprehend it, and can carry it to the point of making fun of it. However, mentioning them does not make the counter-factory issue unfounded. Can there be people who do not know him in our world, in our region, in our country? There is no one in the world who does not know about skin cancers, and there are hardly any people who talk about it. What difference does it make if you delete the Counter Factory and put in the title Skin Cancer—skin cancer that lives in the moles of all people on earth? But if we summarize as people are being taken away and never come back, we will be cheap by making unsolved literature; If it is cheapness, it sweeps the literature, which censorship has not been able to destroy for maybe a thousand years, to the toilet in seconds. Is the counter-factory a matter of literature? Both yes and no, young people: it's a matter of literature. Unless I mean that literature is responsible for everything in the world.'
(I don't really trust scammers in the guise of young hopefuls as they try to hide their still youth! However, this author was well worth reading in the Counter-Factory mystery.)
I kept reading:
‘The Counter Factory is just as off the agenda, just as everyone is not holding presence-aware demonstrations and talking about skin cancer. Before I put it on my agenda, I went to my grandfather's new house, my step-grandmothers, who were spending the day in their three-story summer house near a pine forest. In that house, there is always the smell of cinnamon with plenty of Ashura, proving that you have arrived at the right place. A person should know whether the place is correct or not while going to a place and standing there. Although not complying with the obligations does not harm our environment, it is disrespectful to the environment. Even if you

-Because (I have to admit that I put student innocence in my voice when I say this), because I am doing professional research.
- (Uncle gave me a clear answer to my question by pushing me out of the store with a forgiving elbow gesture) It's exactly seventeen, that's five in the afternoon.
- (There was a pessimistic, fearful relief, peculiar to those who tracked a rattlesnake, due to approaching the solution point.) What time did you leave home, uncle?
- Around six-eighteen-!
The man's response indicated that he was working against his clock at the time of the incident. Because even though our determinations of the time of the event were correct, the moment he left the house was later than his stumbling, as he put it; rewound life for a while. This meant that the ending of the movie was before it started.
Before we said goodbye to our uncle - if such a place existed - we had to visit the national time center of the town where we lived. I bent down and shook his hand, and he kissed my cheeks, each in their own direction, we parted. I only had one small problem: lacking directionless pose. While thinking, he was running left and right on the circular ring road leading to the parade ground. Since the objects in my field of view were constantly changing places, the tree ghosts were dancing in their place-excuse me of course-while the birds perched on the shoulders of the statue in the square were stationary.
Then my running was stopped by a lady I didn't know;
-Hey, are you okay? Why are you sprinting left and right like that?
-Do you know where the Clock Institution building is?
"Of course, I know," said the woman. It is in the campus that is suitable for pancakes adjacent to the garden of the tourism vocational high school. And where else could it be?
I knew the environment as well as the GPS device. There was a statue and a pool in the ceremony area. From the benches by the pool to the north, towards the high school, I sat down to the minister and started to plan what I was going to ask the attendant, the attendant, whatever the clock was. It was best to start the conversation like this: “During the war years, our family elders fled the country and became immigrants. What is an immigrant most like? No clock, of course. Because the hour when he wakes up with the first light of the morning and looks at the goat statue made of plaster in front of their house is in his country.” The person in charge or the manager in front of me said to me, "You are explaining very well, what do you want from us?" If he asked a question such as: I sincerely wanted to show him that I am a well-educated person in thinking about passing hours. As a matter of fact, I walked quickly down the sidewalk on the high school side of the road and had a nice conversation with the gatekeeper and entered in a friendly manner. When I say a good interview, I should state that I am making immigration literature and exploiting emotions, yes, I am exploiting emotions in the fashionable p

He was going to go on saying “why come here…” again when I asked;
-Where is this?
-Apartment overlooking national and international time…
-A, a, a… I've come to the right place!
The person burst into laughter at the opening of the private, respectable window of the chamber with the huge information sign on the door. The sound seemed to echo through his thick black-rimmed glasses. Laughing, he opened the metal arm barrier, and as I entered, I took the elevator up to the second floor—usually the manager's floor.

I knocked on the door with the “Time Difference Tracking Manager” plate and entered. The official was sitting in his assigned room, sipping a hot drink from a glass cup that reflected the light between linden and sage. The handheld radio was on very slightly, and the miniature loudspeaker was broadcasting tango tunes, granting the manager permission to go home from office whenever he wanted and play backgammon with his son, who, with his national swimmer appearance, is the master of cheering the family picture, hugging his father in the silver-framed photograph on his official desk.
He stepped on the brakes in a place where I couldn't tell if he was far from me or closer to me, going from one end to the other with his fat belly, without showing the gap between his desk and his body, right or left, and asked:
-What did you want to learn?
-Although you didn't ask me who I am, I am someone who has a deep view of the passage of hours.
- There was no information about you, only your immigration ID was forwarded without consulting.
- In that case, did the clocks go astray at the time of an incident that happened to me?
-How do you deviate?
For example, did he go back?
-No, sir, it won't.
- You're right, sir. However, in the incident I experienced, a respectable person who can be considered as a family member told me that he was in a state of “swinging off the pavement” and that at that time the clock showed seventeen in the local time, whereas he left his house at six in the evening, an hour after the incident.
-Could you tell me the date of the event, please? (The man had an almond moustache, in North Korean jargon, it seemed that he was taking the matter of the genie. He took the job seriously. I answered the implied question “what day?” clearly. He was shocked!)
I repeated,
-Exactly, I said, that was the day…
-In our world where clocks worked properly at that time; let alone going back, there is not even a backwards.
-Then, let me ask your permission and get up. Many thanks for the information you provided.
-Wait, citizen, considerations about the flow of hours, this is something different from the subject we are talking about. You also said that you have experience and ideas in those works. Sit down and talk a bit.

While I was getting ready to tell, I wanted to get up and put it on the coffee table where some newspapers and magazines were scattered if I had a bag, a bag or something. Did not have. So I swapped the places of the esteemed adm

I wasn't reading the future; I was examining a bunch of recent facts. The manager, in my opinion, had exceeded his problems in his house, and had thrown him into trouble with an exaggerated courtesy, unfortunately I am using the same word again. With the courage I got from the comfort in the environment, I told my thoughts into his ear. He didn't color or it was obvious that he was angry. He avoided a harsh reaction, however, he muttered again whether I really came from an immigrant family, that's all…
-Manager, you know, “Spending Time” is found in every language with its nuances, like a broad umbrella. Spending time, spending time, killing time are comprehensive concepts under that umbrella. I don't want to go into trivial details like killing time, wasting time. If it is within the scope of “Time Passing”, a good explanation should start by saying: Yes, Passing Time cannot be mentioned in the life of the individual-let's add the family-yes, it is not the Passing Time that depresses, upsets, excites, and squirms, it is the place, the environment, where time carries you after it has passed. , it is cool. “My cousin may not pass the craftsmanship test” … where are you going to repeat that and get upset? When you repeat the same sentence and continue your pessimism, when it gets blocked, it doesn't flow. If your salt is dry, if you have a lot of important or trivial work to do, it is not known how time passes on the agenda. From where? It is not known how the time flowing into peaceful works to be done passes. There is also the time that patients spend, if they do not get bored with the slow flow of time, if they have loved ones next to them. Remember, sorrows decrease when shared, joy grows when shared. As for the addiction of time…
I was just about to finish when I heard a click. My interlocutor ran, making a silent sign with his hand, and opened the door with a sudden and violent movement. We were faced with something incredible. Uncle Bey was on his knees and listening to us with his ear to the door. It was a waste of the mind! The janitor, who ran into the noise, was trying to trap the old man in the door-listening position.
The gentleman in charge had calmed down. He sent the janitor, uncle called the number recorded with the title "my home" on his mobile phone. He met his aunt and said that his wife was in a temporary retirement home built almost on the top of a high mountain due to the corona paralysis that was expected to heal.
I think the man was alive too, what was it that was destroyed in the Counter-Factory or—excuse the phrase—where was it then?

After several minutes a long chattering-if no passing words and voice ensued. Evelyn asked why it had suddenly occurred to anybody that no people carried to the Counter Factory land surveyor ought to be reduced absolute nihil, and Lenin couldn’t have replied, with the help of asker’s excellent memory, that the first idea had come from the Soviet fans themselves-even asker or answerer-
She replied as lucid as her question,
-“Of course we had long ago forgotten that it came from a different diversities of population planning bundles”.
Lenin then asked why she mentioned the official procedure only now, to which he, himself said that it was because The Soviet had only just remembered it.
That, said Vladimir Ilyich, was very remarkable. To which one could have replied that it wasn’t at all remarkable in an affair that had dragged on so long. Evelyn said no, it was remarkable, because the matter she had dreamt did not exist.
-“Of course, it didn’t exist,” someone said, “since the whole communist dreams had been lost because of the reason that the main proposals of the future discipline could not have been written through full approvals of the Soviet regime.”
Here Lenin said that there must, surely, have been a preliminary note regarding that first principle induced utterings didn’t exist. Lenin added,
-“Here I hesitated, for I didn’t like to claim that a mistake had been made, or say I believed that it had been made, within the speculations-their departments if there could be any- in the people’ mind, Evelyn, perhaps you are blaming the presidium and thinking that reflection on comrades claim should at least have caused everybody to enquire about the case in other main communist disciples.
But that wouldn’t have been right; they wouldn’t want any blame imputed to the Soviet even in their mind. It ought to be a working principle of the Soviet authorities that they do not even consider the possibility of mistakes being made while butchering a noble European culture-The Russian. The excellent organization of the civil war in our beloved Russia would justify that principle, which is necessary if tasks over the escape from homicide in the motherland should to be performed with the utmost celerity. Vladimir Ilyich therefore could not enquire in all departments based on keeping the humanist goals, planning the happiness in Russia; moreover, those departments should not have responded to -especially-Lenin’s enquiries, because they would have noticed at once that they were being asked to look into the possibility of some mistake.’

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

(Tags: Soviet influence, Iran, North Korea, Turkey, Syria, Morsi’s Egypt, Cuba)

‘Mr. Leader, may I interrupt every twittering one with a question?’ asked Evelyn ‘Didn’t you surmise that a supervisory Soviet authority checking everything? From what you think, the organization is of such a kind that one feels quite ill at the mere idea of these supervisory checks failing over and through the documents apropos the counter factory.’ ‘You are very severe,’ said Vladimir Ilyich, ‘but if you multiplied your severity a thousand times, it would still be as nothing compared to the severity of the anti-authority circles’ attitude to themselves so that only a complete stranger would ask your question. Are there any kind of anything authorities? There are only authorities that couldn’t supervise supervisors. To be sure, they’re not intended to escape from detecting mistakes not only in the vulgar sense of the word but in, also, literary parts of narration no matter as expletives or euphonic material, since there could be no correct wordings, and even if there is something of tutorial rhetoric’s, as in our own case, who’s to say that it’s really a correctness in the long run?’
Evelyn cried,
‘That strikes me as an entirely new idea.’
‘It’s a very old one to me,’ said the Soviet leader. ‘I am no less convinced than you that there has been an over correction.’
And yet as a result of despair the English dwarf Aphrodite has fallen very ill, and the first medical supervisory authorities to check the case, those to which we owe the discovery of the source of the over correction, also acknowledge its underlaying mistakes wherein none can claim that the second set of supervisory authorities will use the same method lacking conclusion…
‘So, the third set, and so on with all the others?’ added Lenin, ‘Maybe,’ he said too, ‘but I’d rather not indulge in such reflections, and anyway this is the first time I’ve heard of these corrective Soviet authorities, so of course I can’t understand them yet. Only, I do think that we have to distinguish between two things here: first, what goes on within the authorities’ correcting mission, and what is then official or can be taken as official; and second, my own comrades, outside the orbit of all these official authorities as I am, and threatened by them with such pointless restrictions that I still can’t believe the danger is serious. As for the first point, what you, Lady Evelyn, describe with such astonishing and extraordinary command ad hoc very special mission of the correction is probably over correct.’
He continued,
Only I wouldn’t mind hearing a word about myself as well.’
‘I’m coming to that,’ said Evelyn, ‘but you couldn’t understand it wi

Vladimir Ilyich mumbled,
‘I even mentioned the supervisory authorities shouldered the task of archives too soon so, I’ll go back to my argument with another but you. As I said, my defences concerning official reports and Soviet morality gradually came down, and yet if another one I should be looking for can gain even the slightest advantage over someone else, she or he has already won the day, because then her or his close attention, energy, and presence of mind would be all the greater, and to the man she or he might have been attacking she or he might be a fearsome sight, although a welcome one to that human’s enemies spoiling documents!’
Evelyn laughed,
‘It’s because I’ve had this experience in such cases that I can speak of somebody, no matter female or male, as I do. By the way, I’ve never yet managed to set eyes on her or him myself, she or he can’t come down here for she or he would have been so overworked. As her or his position has been described to me, all the walls are hidden behind Kremlin dooms of huge bundles of secretly distorted stacked one above another, and these are only the files on which a red comrade in charge of archives could be seen working at present.’
Vladimir Ilyich coughed to clear his vocal cords, and parleyed,
‘Since files are always being taken out of the bundles or put back into them, and it’s all done in a great hurry, the towers of Kremlin might be collapsing, and the sound of them constantly crashing to the floor has become typical of Soviet Polit-bureau senior members’ offices.

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

FINALE-BOOK, SAY TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FORM OF PURE ART

(Tags: Soviet influence, Iran, North Korea, Turkey, Syria, Morsi’s Egypt, Cuba

Vladimir Ilyich Lenin’ aide de camp commented,
‘Well, the comrades in charge of keeping verity linked documents are real workers, and they devote the same attention to both the smallest cases and the largest.’
‘Mr, Aide de camp of mine’ said Vladimir, ‘you keep calling Evelyn-The dwarf English Aphrodite case one of the smallest, yet a great many officials have put their minds to it, and while it may have been very small at first, the zeal of officials like those in charge of archives has made it into a major one.’
‘That is unfortunate, and not at all what I want,’ said Evelyn, ‘since I have no ambition to see towers of files about me rise in the air and come crashing down,’
The aide de camp uttered thoughtfully,
‘The people hired in the official Soviet archives just want to work at a little drawing-board in peace as humble comrades.’
‘No,’ said the Lenin, ‘it’s not a major case, you have no grounds for complaint there. It is one of the smallest of small cases. The quality of the Evelyn’s case is not determined by the amount of work done on it, and if that’s what you think you are still very far from understanding the comrades.’
Evelyn spoke,
‘But even if it did depend on the amount of work, my case would be one of the slightest so, there are far more normal cases, I mean cases where no so-called mistakes creep in, and indeed much more rewarding work is done on them in Kremlin Palace.’
Vladimir laughed,
‘Anyway, you know nothing at all about the real work your case has entailed, and I will now tell you about it. At first The Soviet Archive Experts left me right out of it, but then some sneak officials arrived, and there were daily hearings of highly regarded members of Soviet Politburo, all taken down for the records.’
Respectable Aide de camp added,
‘Most of the comrades have backed me in that case, and only a few expressed distrust, saying that the question of Evelyn concerns a beloved chief of a gang, say the Soviet Leader’s interests closely, and thinking that they detected secret deals of some kind and instances of injustice!’
Evelyn giggled,
‘Furthermore, they found a victim as I may be, and the Soviet Archive Staff was bound to be convinced, from what they said, that if I had raised the question at the Soviet Politburo, not all its members would have been against the appointment of a dwarf Aphrodite lover of the scarlet dictator-Lenin so that something obvious-I mean the fact that no stranger lover was needed-was at least observed by peevish blue eyes of The Classical Nordic Rus.’
Lenin completed
‘A man called stereotype Russians were particularly active here-you probably don’t know them. They might not be bad people, but they are robust and have a wild imagination.’

A man interrupted all explanations moulded in words. He’s the brother-in-law of another man. He said,
‘I’m a brother-in-law, ant situation comes to the meaning of a verity reiterating that I’m the master Archiver?’ And he described a bearded man he had seen at his-namely the brother-in-law there- yes his’s house.
‘Yeah, that’s him,’ said the dictator. ‘I know his wife as well,’ added Evelyn, trying a shot at random.
‘Quite possibly,’ said the scarlet despot, and fell silent. ‘She’s beautiful,’ said Evelyn-The dwarf English Aphrodite, ‘but rather pale, and suffering from asthma. I suppose she comes from the sanatorium?’ As it could be evaluated phonetically this was said half as a question. Vladimir Ilyich Lenin looked at the time, poured a sirop he used to carry in his valet like bag into a small spoon, and quickly swallowed it.
‘I suppose all you know of the Soviet hospitals are the offices?’ asked the brother-in-law. brusquely. ‘Yes,’ agreed the claimant, with a sardonic, and yet very, very earnest smile, ‘and they’re the most important part of all comrades’ healthy life.’
Lenin spoke to the group,
‘As for the brother in love: if we could keep him out of the sanatorium, we’d nearly all of us be glad, not least Evelyn.’
But at that time Evelyn gained some influence;
‘He’s not a good speaker, but he shouts, and that’s enough for many people.’
Vladimir Ilyich approved her,
‘That’s how it happened that I was obliged to lay the whole affair before Soviet politburo members, which in fact was the brother in law’s sole success at first, for of course the great majority of the politburo wouldn’t hear of appointing a super archiver.’
For there should be other brothers in law, one of them would give detailed speculation of his,
‘That might be several decades after, but the case of a super archiver shall not be settled, yes, never really be settled all the time, partly because of the conscientious approach of Monsieur de Soviet Chief, who was trying to discover the motives of both the majority and the opposition through the most careful keeping archives, and partly because of the stupidity and ambition of archivers generally…’
One of the body-guards of Lenin-who has various personal links with all the Soviet authorities-, which set his imagination to work thinking up more and more new ideas, coughed and laughed meaningfully.

LET THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG

The mass of the people, general election induced gas, if you abuse it, it will explode in the folks’ house, without putting a curtain on their sadness,
Units in the civilized realm, worth a soldier's army, are already free of camouflage,
The ski mask, part of the rescuers’ uniform, is lightly funnel-covering the flaring mess;
It descends from the sky: the people's gas explodes without hesitation; this race includes both those who leave and those who come, say from every age!

ABBA VITE's Liberalist Novel

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

FINALE-BOOK, SAY TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FORM OF PURE ART

(Tags: Soviet influence, Iran, North Korea, Turkey, Syria, Morsi’s Egypt, Cuba

An expected silence would reign and something as the rest of the near past might be shared well:
………………..
The same and yet in umpteen appearances exhibiting friend of the uncle’s friend-the one and only fixed personality induced person of The Against Factory thereby narrated in details could reply the question, inasmuch as he spoke;
‘I can’t tell you, I don’t wish to impose on your quantum physics bailiwick of yours the miraculous events we all have shared but I suggest you consider me as-well, I won’t imply comrades over the comrades, since we are total strangers-but to some extent an associate. I can’t allow ourselves to be accepted as a certain group here, but otherwise you can turn to me-instead carrying various aspects to have escaped from existence with confidence, although only within the limits of my power in changing within the personal verities from face and body to thought and sense, which is covering a large spectrum.’
The officer whose office-its door-had exposed to an unexpected spying act through that very uncle’s friend would bold him,
‘You keep talking’, said he, ‘about the possibility of my being not accepted as a member of the accidental group here, but I have already been appointed in that capacity. Here is the physical and spiritual existence.’
‘You are exposed to be annihilated at any time’, said the supposed uncle’s friend, ‘is valuable and deserves respect for the sake of Counter Factory administration, which does seem to be genuine over the assault upon your daily life, but otherwise-no, I dare not even tell you my opinion furthermore!’ adding: ‘What on earth are we all doing?’
The uncle linked victim, who suddenly out of sight for some time, and the officer had obviously not failed to find this body at least they were looking for, and had then tried to shut everything up in the physical existence again, but had failed in that too because of a certain well organized and exorbitantly micro, solid black hole glued on his skin, mucosa or so. So, the temporary group and its extra temporary members had thought of a plan that they were now putting into practice against Counter Factory and sub-micro pocket black hole.
One should had laid the micro black-hole down on its proper place, and stuffed all its annexes into it is inner organ, and the others present aided by the officer and the sat on the black-hole accesses, thus trying to squeeze them slowly shut. ‘So, the evil hasn’t been able to gulp the uncle’s friend,’ said the officer.
Somebody coughed
‘Well, that’s a pity, but you know the story now, so we don’t really need the uncle’s friend any more. Anyway, it’s sure to be found some time, the victim is probably at the gulping power’s main place’.
Officer or rather the

ABBA VITE's Liberalist Novel

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

FINALE-BOOK, SAY TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FORM OF PURE ART

(Tags: Soviet influence, Iran, North Korea, Turkey, Syria, Morsi’s Egypt, Cuba

It is obvious that respectable uncle was swallowed by the black hole in his pocket in the principal's office, and that nothing can be seen whereout he disappeared because the black hole might continue to exist below microscopic dimensions reigning time and to have kept it under the control of a perpetual braking system. Inasmuch as I wonder if we had followed a late March week into spring as we spent a few hours in the principal's office and in the hallway where the office doors opened. I ran down the stairs or I ran up the stairs-this is a necessity, and grammar wouldn’t recognize the rules. Their 3-4storey houses couldn’t prevent the sun from setting early-now and then. So, I should sit and write that fresh air feeling like a revolution in an era of my life.
Ah, those classic and still-living city vibes... One example of these is that I lived in England just before the 2000s. Neighborhood residents borrowed time and borrowed money to fix their deteriorated businesses, paid off debts and collected debts, remembering their times in various eras, sharing memories, visiting each other in the evenings to share a glass of hot or cold drink... maybe a few cookies in between... The people there shared with the families of classical humanity. It is impossible not to realize that they are living the highest quality period in terms of family induced social relations. It should not be forgotten that as a writer of a certain age due to my age, I have seen and lived this neighborhood example in my life.
I came to the neighborhood where my uncle's friend's house is located, because while I was making such philosophical analyzes, a voice inside me said that Uncle Bey was at home. However, I knocked on his neighbor's door, not theirs. Forgive my surprise, uncle opened the door, I know it's hard to believe, but that's exactly what happened. The matrices that I came across here, let's say in mathematical language, exhibited the following things based on sameness, oppositions and inconsistencies: first of all, the parcel of senior uncle, his neighbor's house was filled with colors that we see very often as of mid-autumn, and of course, when you open the kitchen door, you get the feeling that you will see a pomegranate tree. However, if the person who opens the door is someone other than the uncle, especially if the next-door neighbor is a different person than his old friend, the wallpaper at the entrance turns from apricot to pipe tobacco. Well, if this determination is the uncle who opened the door, wouldn't it slip into the medlar... you have to calculate.
All in all, the reaction from this man namely the clone of senior uncle would come without any delay would come, and inasmuch as it came. It naturally

We should care about the video call from the mobile because as a lot of folk might do Uncle Bey shouted "Lila" with the advantage of feeling him himself to reach at home, the certainty in his voice, even the imperiousness that would not be considered polite, was instantly answered. Immediately, through the door opposite the entrance, which was lit by a sailor's lantern, as it had no windows-it turned out that it had opened into the kitchen-a woman in her early forties, who looked like a stewardess, in a bathrobe, with her half-wet hair just washed. At the same time, the lady of the house appeared in her thick flannel pajamas that look like ladies’ waistcoat matching to a colorful trouser, which I know she usually wears in the house.
She greeted me with open arms, running down the stairs in the warmest hug ever to a familiar neighbor boy; On the other hand, she asked about the secondary Uncle Bey, whom she had difficulty in perceiving as her husband,
'Where is our poor master, what is it like to leave the scads-year-old neighbor boy who was let in and disappear like this?'
Uncle Bey snapped her from the phone screen,
‘We live with neighbors like a family. Is there room for formality in the family? And you call me Lila.'
Lila, on the other hand, had already returned from the same door. The lady was just about to point her hand at the girl and say,
'Here she is right in front of her eyes, when she realized that he had disappeared. At the same time, we made eye contact with the manager with a meaningful reflex. The real uncle had slipped-so to speak-in the private office adjacent to the principal's office. Without a moment's hesitation, I burst through the doorway where Lila-the young middle-aged virgin, her next-door guest-disappeared too. The kitchen was also windowless and was lit by two huge bare bulbs that lit up the generals' meeting rooms during the last world war. On the middle shelf of the crystal glass cabinet, where the gold-plated cutlery was located, were imported porcelain sets and generously medium-sized, ornamented through pinky orange and greenish blue figures serving glasses. A fat Chinese boy was smirking with his tongue out on the gilded tray that completed the set. I approached the glass cabinet to take a closer look at that cynical image that has become the symbol of my actual observation induced incident that I have followed up. Running behind me, Lila's robe was unbuttoned, her breasts clinging to my jacket when she bumped into me.
Suddenly, from the direction of the door, the cry of the lady of the house, "My husband is on fire," was heard. On the phone screen I held up, the funny face of the secondary Uncle Bey was appearing and disappearing through the smoke. This means that cloned individuals could appear in the "Counter Factory" production-or rather condensation belts, where the original was not found. I said,
'Don't worry,' he was joking.'
She laughed so she also referred to our uncle's phrase "find me my Lil

‘Ah, yes, her!’ reflected uncle who has just returned to the director’s office, to have found the people having been not surprised. ‘I know about that Lila will follow me anywhere. As for the rest of you, certain considerations will be necessary, and I will speak to the counter factory about that.’
Uncle Bey’s wife would seem having got some suspicions,
‘Should a decision come, or should it be necessary to question you again first, I’ll send for you. Does that suit you?’
‘No, not at all,’ said uncle ‘I don’t want any tokens of favour neither from the factory nor from my house, I want my right-Lila’
‘Uncle Bey’ said I to him, who was still standing close to his tool-pocket blackhole toying dreamily with its aura, with which he had played before everybody.
In alarm, uncle would break in on,
‘Lila, my joking artery is beginning to bleed badly again, we’ll have to render compress upon it by changing subject.’
The respectable wife of Uncle Bey sitting down a stool available around rose to her feet giggling.
‘Then I’ll say goodbye,’ she said.
‘Yes, do,’ said Lila, who was already preparing some garments to go out for marketing, ‘there’s a nasty lack of yoghurt in Frigidaire.’
I turned to my inquiry about the case.
Uncle Bey, in his ever-inappropriate readiness to make himself free, to have been in fresh air on the pavements as the main uncle out of the dangerous zones of both counter factory and pocket blackhole had opened both sides of the door of “Institute” as soon as he heard the voice of freedom. If he was to keep the penetrating gravity out of the pocket blackhole induced peril in the director’s office room, he could only bow fleetingly to his wife. Then, taking the Lila with him, he would go out of the kitchen there of Lila is in charge of cooking and would be quick to close the phase of cloned uncle bey cracking his domestic jokes. As for the conversation with the lady wife she should be waiting outside the bedroom for him intending to give no chance anybody to have ventured to speak without being asked.
‘Have you found new bed sheets to spread?’ asked Lila, her eyes bent on the ground as all virgins should expose.
‘I think you mustn’t be asking on behalf of you’ giggled the lady. ‘You seem to be extremely dependent on main uncle, huh?’
‘No,’ said the other, ‘I’m not asking on my behalf. But I would be very upset and unhappy about you if the main personality of your dear husband, you can’t come back to the bed thoroughly when you lie in bed sighing and complaining all the time.’
‘Shall I go and see our electric blankets?’ asked lady.
‘I wish you would,’ said Lila. ‘If you find the old one out of work, I could come to fetch you from the bedroom, but listening at the door to have heard the two of you in conversation and wouldn’t like to disturb you. I should be worried about my boss and his lady too, so I could come straight back at any time depending on your necessities, but I wouldn’t let me in to see you, so all I could do was w

Evelyn recited,

BILL C.s FALL AND FLY


Part 1
One’s Advance on Existence as a Youngster

Once upon a time there were Ex-President Bill and I to have taste for art praising hero the rebel and a tale based on no cause bravery. Since as the legend should have been The Rebel Without a Cause very, very similar to the no cause induced story of Bill and I-The author…
Could one offer youthfulness as a cause? Youthfulness, huh? O Lord! What even could youth be while it is based on anti-thought that would not be awarded, and yet merely be threatened by bullying village dandies, to have been scolded, being cheated, and gifted only by the eternal call to study. What’s to live in the universe compulsorily invented as a young thing then? Something thoroughly nil to give up at once… Inasmuch as Bill Clinton managed to cope with it regarding to abovementioned basics of the weirdness. Wasn’t that he has had to do? Winning a stupid war over desertion from it!
It is a far extravagance induced criticism uttered in our old earth generally upon a period called youth invented relentlessly and used very freely from Rhodesia to Prussia, say from the soil of very fresh breath of British Farmers to have dried up the swarms-wherein they be-, and mad to be sweating by the sultry of tropical belt to the blizzards of Prussian Empire highlands that one would sense as a lingering winter even thereto the threshold of late May days. Eventually standard young people described in the way belonging to the world folk made of young humans while humans should be in fierce fighting-just after birth-which ought to be took place in every phase of their resurrection. For instance, the borders of my-the pen’s-obituary having got to be written down during Vietnam War that has created a certain young man- Bill to be devoid of youth first of all before living as a youngster, wrapped within the dark smokes of battling America that the author has surmised swimming in flying colours successfully in all the ways of life. I remember that the Eurasian who dwelt near to our beloved Georgia then were too much busy through inventing tales about the happy youth of the USA, and trying to make themselves plunging into a desperate attempt in the depth of fictive to understand the world of relatively well civilized mankind!
For giving much more example apropos to show the survival through social squalls let’s see ablation of one of the traditionally designed community fortresses-under modernity hooting if not shooting to inflict cities whereon people dropped from country side attracted by colourful slums fed by the occupational invitation linked to industrialization ,so that, one might glance at the people dealt with the enemy during the World Wars as starting point when vanquished columns based on their motherland one by one, and flung them from the country with great slaughter for cleaning entirely of the natives, and propelling the remnants sought refuge in soil of the author., the central of the Eurasi

ABBA VITE's Liberalist Novel

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

FINALE-BOOK, SAY TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FORM OF PURE ART

(Tags: Soviet influence, Iran, North Korea, Turkey, Syria, Morsi’s Egypt, Cuba

Part 4

In any Platonic way induced Love much less unreal than Real

I-The Author is Cha. The relationships that I live in my inner universe, trying to establish with someone of the opposite sex, whether madame or Mademoiselle, are both more intense and more real than Bill. C.’s similar efforts in the outer world. However, the important point here is to understand how painful that reality is and to make the comparison accordingly. In fact, I talked about the fact that my intense burning and killing struggles jumped out of the abstract and fell into the only concrete I could deal with, and I made a bet on the classic marriage. If the classical tools are insufficient in this sense, it is inevitable that the proposer should be underestimated or even ridiculed. So, what kind of world will the lover choose when he is caught between the abstract and the concrete, in order to meet his concrete needs and reach the place he wants to reach in the world of love. I-Cha, was not an indecisive person, to continue my abstract journey in a way that will reach his inner world to the goal, but it was in his nature to continue on his way without existing in the line of existence.
The Girl was anxious,
What do you see in the case I would be exist, then?’
‘A young girl,’ said I.
‘Quite right,’ said she, ‘and what is she doing?’
‘I think she’s lying on a sofa, stretching and yawning.’
She laughed. ‘That’s quite wrong. But here’s the blanket that should be a blanket because of something based on the basic theme here, and there I am lying on it,’ added she, sticking to neither her own opinion or that of mine.
‘Look more closely,’ said I, annoyed. ‘Isn’t you really lying down your study?’
‘Why, no,’ said she then. ‘I am not lying down, I’m in the seventh heaven, and now I see there could be no blanket, it’s probably a trampoline, and the you are doing the high jump.’
After that moment she stopped the speculations regarding to lying down my Dadaist literature fort-the one and only verity shaping approach-fell on a March Day, and next day Fort Surrealism, overlooking all supressed themes, was carried, after a shell spread from her eyes had exploded my Muallaqat so that ny main style Hyperrealism shoug ha begun.
The impressions left from every sight or spectra left from her were now in the rear of the main defences of my heart, and during some days my thought and sensation forts surrendered one by one and one ought to confess that after the fall of my surrealist writing machine Hyperrealist Cha-standing for Bill C. and I- could be flying.
‘There I’m, then,’ said I, pleased, ‘I could use trampoline as well, yes, while I would liking useful machines would be at my service as they used to be officially. That’s how the m

On behalf of all of them, I must state that I perceive the peacefully sleeping mother that Bill has spoken of exactly as an existence in which we will share the full moon standing in front of our window and staring at us. But identification and practice never work together... Let me summarize my own assumption for all of them based on this fact. Suppose the mother is sleeping and your hero is the moon he hugs at the window, as if he has his mother next to him and they add meaning to the full moon with him, etc.
Is this enough, every contribution made through literature is sufficient because, as a famous poet said, nature does not appeal to human emotions, if literature does not exist, the fog on the bridge cannot be perceived romantically. In nature, we should not look for a pleasant Naturalist or Realist or even Parnassian stimulant, because all of these are the values that people add to nature. In addition, it is not only the mentioned mothers who have been taken to eternal rest. As a Clinton would admit, men who are very talented, very helpful, extremely valuable friends of their age make it through their loss without regret, but they never forget them. In a sense, they are leaving for a job that is not like eternal rest-from where and where to leave is indisputable-and these departures have nothing to do with eternity!

We-Cha-Me, Bill C.; and I-me myself had no time by day, the depths of the lover might be in-de Profundis-a sophisticated state when we took it over and had to try to bring it up to scratch, but by any dusky time? For years on end, our conversations at night like dim parts of the day-no matter because of sunset, thick rain clouds, or the Ukrainian war smokes turned only on the wedding altercations and the reasons why I-the author could not change his or rather my mind. And if my sweetheart fell asleep while I was narrating, I woke her up, and we went on.’
‘Now, if you will permit me,’ said I.,
‘I am going to ask you a very forthright question.’ The intimate comrades of mine, say Cha or Bill C. said nothing to that. ‘So, I see you will not permit me,’ said in another saying inspired,
‘Very well, that is enough for me.’
‘Indeed, it is,’ said somebody afar,
‘That in particular. You take everything the wrong way, even a silence. You can’t help it. I’ll allow you to ask.’
‘If I take everything the wrong way,’ remarked another voice, ‘perhaps I’m wrong about my question too, and it isn’t so forthright after all. I just wanted to know how you came to know your remote darling, and how your house bestowed clues into your hands.’

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

FINALE-BOOK, SAY TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FORM OF PURE ART

(Tags: Soviet influence, Iran, North Korea, Turkey, Syria, Morsi’s Egypt, Cuba

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

FINALE-BOOK, SAY TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FORM OF PURE ART

(Tags: Soviet influence, Iran, North Korea, Turkey, Syria, Morsi’s Egypt, Cuba


Dwarf Aphrodite of England would go on reciting over The Future Life before Lenin:

AFTER THE MASTERPIECE OF HIS: “THE AGAINST FACTORY”(Sent already)….AND BEFORE MISS PHIL-THE SOPHIE …
Novellas III
By Abba Solzhenitsof
MISS
SOPHIE-THE PHILO
& I.A

ARKADIA 20023
PREFACE

Sophie-The Philo recorded the beginning of the eventual novella, more real, more concrete than the concrete, perhaps the most indisputable case of her life in a speech she made with artificial intelligence. As in every speech, pictures of the future through nouns, adjectives, verbs, adverbs, all kinds of scenes from the past have given this conversation a full dimension feature. Sophie-The Philo, definitely states that artificial intelligence was the first to talk in the records she keeps: Sophie-The Philo would think aloud in the study room where her desktop computer has been located, or while talking to herself in a kind of delirious manner, she would hear with her ears that the artificial intelligence should be talking from the loud speakers of the device, as if the girl’s device might be caught in the need to call someone to talk to, and she should not delay in responding as another story was written by INT-The PC, who the author Abba dreamed of in the past. It would take place like a time-spanned response of a creature named with a creative mind and a evaluative conscience, though not sentient, to write a novel. In a sense it is nominated to be the first coherent document of the school of hyperrealism that the author alone sought to represent.
As to have been monitored on real documents Sophie-The Philo struggle A.I over pronunciation of the word if it was word. Before that err, say skirmish of syllables she had designed an e-letter in the category of “General Revenge” because of the side effects of the internet medium that had been a torture to her, but as regards the chief fact in it, she had felt not one moment's hesitation, even whilst he was writing the letter. Would the essential question would have been irrevocably settled, in her mind after having read the lines: "Ever such a human induced privilege without any mating rendered by a couple of a lady and a gentleman while the mankind are alive and a technology lie be not damned!"
"The thing is perfectly clear," she muttered to herself, with a malignant smile anticipating the triumph of her decision. "No, writing programmers, no, new-hatched Einstein like folks, you can't deceive me! You shall apologise for not asking the mankind’s advice and for taking the permittance of humans to deceive us!”
After a while AI spoke from the side of PC loudspeakers,
“I dare say! They-who write my programme imagine to control me so, it is arranged now and can't be broken off; but we will see whether it can or

Just at that moment, Artificial Intelligence tucked in a tirade that was worth a book, which meant finishing quickly what had begun, not squeezing it together. Of course, while he was speaking assertively, it was as if he had eyes and his interlocutor was eye to eye with him, everyone can understand how realistic and crime-free this assertive narrative is from his words. (Addressing to the writer:) I had to make you pay for the live loss-in infinite sufferings-of a coiled cat, because the authority recognized at the top by all religions was sitting on the right, the name of the throne was right. I guess you predicted which creature close to human should be chosen, there is no need to be insincere, I chose a hyena, I took measures to make it live longer than you, the nationality we belong to, even the world we know as the world, so the oldest hyena candidate has emerged, here's how it is in terms of meaning for me to talk to someone else. If I was getting heavier, it was now easy to maintain that successful position in terms of feeling through the eternal and long-lasting hyena.
A.I went on;
“You haven’t been in the in the centre of any debate at midday-ought it to be midday or midnight indeed? We don’t know exactly my chat guests-at breakfast time, at that time especially there were even more of item to add pains, although since then many have stopped coming. As a result of items-don’t ask what items they might be- we could not only pay the penalty properly, so we could be able to fill the whole place after a few seconds, and we owe almost nothing on it today.”
Sophie-The Philo, (Taking her turn) “To be sure, another result was that we all might understand that to have undermined our health with all this, One would have developed nausea and dizziness say nothing of migraine, and now one should be an elderly.”
A.I,
“You may think that I am much older than an abacus, but in reality it is only some months younger than me, and you can be sure it will never age, for its kind of work rattling little counting items, to have shown to the folk, knocking out those little parts again and again, sometimes fetching a shadow falling-its kind of work doesn’t age anyone.”
Sophie-The Philo,
“Your achievements are remarkable, no doubt about that, but we were speaking of the time-midday or midnight-before your age, and then it really would have been amazing for other people’s family to urge the two of them to fall into feud… When it meant financial sacrifice, or at least shouldering such a great risk as handing over the loud-speakers trusting only in your own capacity for work, which they couldn’t have known at the time, and Hans’s capacity for work, the total absence of which they must have noticed.”
A.I,
(Wearily) “Yes, well, I can see what you’re getting at, and how wide you are of the mark. Reason had no hand in any of this. Why would an abacus have intended or should do it on behalf of anything for anybody, or more accurately, how could it have to

Histeria inflicted would be president knits woollen shawls and embroiders cuffs, ruining her old eyes. And all its symptoms do add more than twenty ailments of the victim including ass cancer inflicting uncontrolled defecation every year to he should meet with Macron, we know that. So, he is building all his hopes all the time on Arab sheikhs and king and sultans’ generosity; they will offer it of himself, he will press it on a nation so that one may or may not wait a long time for that! That's how it always is with these Indo-European and Semitic people’s noble hearts; till the last moment every Islamic terrorist is a comrade with them, till the last moment, they hope for the best and will see nothing wrong, and although they have an photo-shop of the other side of the features, yet they won't face the truth till they are forced to; the very thought of it makes them appal; they thrust the truth away with both hands, until the man they deck out in false colours puts a baby pet on them with his own hands. Every wise folk should like to know whether Mr. Quasi President suffering from hysteria has any orders of merit; one bet he has another in his buttonhole and that he puts it on when he goes to dine with the king or sheiks for, he will be sure to have it for his permanent complicity, too! Enough of him, isn’t it in order to confound him!
"Well, . . . writer or reader chap I don't wonder at, it's like everybody God bless all of them, but how could the good people? O dear folk, as though I did not know you! You were nearly at the threshold of being Good Samaritans when I appreciate you last: I understood you then.
Someone would write that 'One can put up with a great deal.', and one should know that very well. For example we all knew that two years and a half ago-or since Noah’s deluge henceforth to this extent, and for the last two eras of reptiles we have been thinking about it, thinking of just that, that 'one could put up with a great deal.' If he-she or she-he could put up with new Ottoman caliph and all the rest of it, she, he namely he, she certainly can put up with a great deal. And now our moms and they have taken it into their heads that we can put up with the chief of Islamic terror, who propounds the theory of the superiority of jihadists raised from destitution and owing everything to their European Stock folks bounty -who propounds it, too, almost at the first interview. Granted that he 'let it falling,' though he is a sensible man, (yet maybe it was not a slip at all, but he meant to make himself clear as soon as possible) but the folk? The moon understands the caliph, of course, but she will have to live with the asteroids. Why! The poor live on black bread and water, they would not sell their souls, the folk would not barter its moral freedom for comfort; she would not barter it for…No, my folk was not that sort when I knew it and . . . it is still the same, of course! Yes, there's no denying, the Anti-Semitic liars are a sweet but

A Palestine Inuendo
SHORT STORY / By Abba Solzhenitsof

Empty words? If agenda is life: NOP! Then or as a result, the realist lifestyle reaches a point that can be detected in every literary product. The more everything is clear in reality, the more everything gets mixed up in the realist narrative, until there is no reality left when one stubbornly sticks to reality. It can be said that every topic, big or small, that has been discussed so far has reached interesting places with the involvement of a familiar Italian with wheat skin and blue eyes, who is big enough to be a cardinal candidate, and intervened in all the conversational observations. It is necessary to both believe what the observing ones say and not be surprised in every case of hid. Being born and growing up in an underdeveloped small town-that causes foreigners sojourn therein who start working also there by chance to be considered weak, and it is certain that the portrayal of this person has created wrong impressions around him. The situation described in the reasoning of young minds was like this; Despite the fact that this Italian would have torn the man to pieces in his own country, unfortunately, and the smiling face of the friend's sister increased the deception, pathetically forgetting the possibility that smiling people could also knock out the other person in any event…
It is unthinkable that any speech would not convey an event that is free from conflict. We are always people who were born in two previous wars and matured in the previous war. The song written on a flower, jasmine or jasmine, was deemed worthy of a gold record or a gold album award. "I went up to the second floor to reach the store of a tailor I didn't know on a big city street between the small street and the boulevard, an unusual place of the old times that was neither small nor large. When I looked away from the tailor shop window, I thought like a useless dome-acrobat that had been converted from a government office to a temple. Yes, when I saw that place, I asked ourselves the question "what did I see?" and without getting an answer, "he searched for the plum blossoms that had just met life among the green branches hidden in a nearby gray garden." Connecting with a high artistic power to fireless delirium such as "my eyes"... If we explain, there are scenes of terrible possibilities in our existence that should surprise everyone, but we do not even care about ourselves. So, what happened now? Every epidemic, death, and situation of being under ruin, which we did not dare to think about long ago but never crossed our minds, swallow our aunts and uncles, and we just watch!

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

FINALE-BOOK, SAY TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FORM OF PURE ART

(Tags: Soviet influence, Iran, North Korea, Turkey, Syria, Morsi’s Egypt, Cuba

When nobody summons anyone amongst us-the mankind-anymore that niverse, its living population, everybody would rather chant

Living Things

Living things are more numerous than the largest imaginable number: because the dead wait a thousand years to die,
Let's skip these, there are only two things worth writing down: the time and the place where the event took place:
In the evening, men on this side of the doorway, ladies on the other; time is short, if you dream of having a snack, the wedding house you visit will have dinner nay;
The paint-free wall of the courtyard looks furtive yellow in the light of the energy-saving bulb. shadows shifting; our jacket bottoms with shiny vests!

Then essentially earthly humans would forget that that should forget them entirely. People didn’t want to say so in front of each other, and yet it’s not just that everybody happened to forget; it’s more than that. For if they have forgotten someone, they could get to know everybody that all of them used to remember whom they couldn’t forget forever but to time, and remember again.
With everyone, however, that’s impossible. When one stops summoning someone, one could have forgotten one oneself entirely, not just in the past, but for the future too, once and for all.
If one goes to a great deal of trouble involving amnesia one can think at least oneself into one’s mind and one’s ideas, which make no sense here or there, however much to the point they may be wherever it is one comes from. Perhaps one’s foolish fancies would be wild enough to imagine that all the females of the earth should have forgotten themselves in marriage to men like prototype husbands so that one would have no trouble in coming to one anyhow, should people summon one at some time in the future. Altogether, the fool can go no further.
Then c’mon and chant:
OUR COMMON FAILURE

Animals do not have this brand of consciousness: wherever there are humans, everyone, say every woman and man would think every one of them is herself, himself; big or small...
If we put it into words, this is the alchemy of turning wastewater into gold bullion, hocus. pocus: allorhythmia without an abacus tool,
If we are raw materials when we are born, we should ask: in whose factory are we processed and used to be existing back and forth?
Our common disgrace depends on the automatic; We believe what people say, we should accept it to see who is told what it is even if it’s not as told!

YEP!
Our common disgrace depends on the automatic; We believe what people say, we should accept it to see who is told what it is even if it’s not as told!
Do the readers understand what that smartness means? Does anyone understand that the poet’s smartness is just the same thing as the reader's and may be better, nobler, braver, because in our foundation pattern, the children of The Tent-because the tent is the foundation itself-it's a bargain for luxuries of creativeness, after all, but with foundation it's simply a question of survival. It has to be paid for, it has to be paid for, dear readers, this smartness. And what if it's more than the citizens can bear afterwards, if they regret it? The happiness, the wealth, the richness, the applause hidden from all the outer universe, for we are not a real creator, and cannot be as The Creator And how will our faith leader feel then? Even now he might be uneasy, he might be worried, but then, when he sees it all clearly while the creatures could prevent lucidity? And all of them, the children? At the top of the tent or rather the foundation a non-child singer chant:
While the Second Soviet Falls
Croupiest-revolutionary, stylish clothing-dirty behaviour; formally respectable, essentially gang leaders were perfectly organized;
While we were deleting them, we gave a briefing to tell the tale of our success: "The culling is complete, it takes time to bury them";
There would be struggling on stage and in the depths below the stage, booting goods, shooting comrades, that's how these things work;
What could one call collapse while sensing the outcome before the last curtain, without naming it; heroes are actually cockroaches, only their reputation is worse...
Yes, indeed, what have you taken us for? We won't have your sacrifice, The Reader, we won't have it, the reading fellow! It shall not be, so long as we are alive, it shall not, it shall not! We won't accept it!
The non-child soloist suddenly paused in his reflection and stood still.
It shall not be the foundation? But what are we going to do to prevent it? Someone will forbid it? And what right have we? What can we promise the foundation on its side to give anybody such a right? Our whole life, our whole future, we will devote to them, huh? When we have finished our studies and obtained a post based on the general service? Yes, we have heard all that before, and that's all /words, but now or rather what then? Now something must be done, now, do everybody understand that? And what are they doing now, and who are they? What kind of humans are living upon them?

MSABE
or
THE MAIN STORY OF ALL BOOKS IN THE EARTH


HE-The Ex Poet Of BBC Poetry Corner)Has Been Known As The Mediterranean Albert Schweitzer namely Associate Prof. Dr. MES Solzhenitsof also AS Being THE Gratest Player OF David's HARP Doctor Abba Vite (Qanun), AND is THE Founding Father ( Prof. Dr. Mustafa Erdogan Surat /prof. mesolzhenitsy) OF THE MDK Health Centre.

https://allpoetry.com/prof.mesolzhenitsy



PRELIMINARY EXPLANATIONS

After many or rather all books of Abba Vite, “The Reader” should have caught on the meaning of average sentences of his…Right? Absolutely NOP! Here you are: Nothing but Nonsense to catch on to that available over the syntax belonging to no worldly language but deeply distorted English. And yet the nonsense if available therein could not also be anything as to be called bad words as absurd, rubbish, drivel gibberish, waffle, pants, rot, bunk, bilge, drivel, tripe, hors-feathers, BIZZO etcetera.
Then what is its situation apropos composition bound to be sane? Only something to be written OUT OF MEANING, say, within the universe linked to anything except NON-MEANING as the LIFE should be itself.

CHAPTER I

We are invited to dinner at the Palace-like hotel, which is a kind of temporary stay where very important people and their families attend. Priceless chandeliers made of very shiny silver that make my mother's jewels and my father's badges and medals shine brightly. At the semi-formal dinner attended by upper-class families, almost everyone knew in which neighborhoods the interlocutor families lived. I can't say that I knew the neighborhood we lived in, but I lived there. From what I perceived throughout the dinner; it was quite luxurious. The clothes I remember now were not the high-end brands preferred by my age children of noble families; I cannot say that I have seen and examined these very closely throughout my life, but it is also not possible to say that I did not wear them that evening. Maybe the word plasma will be useful to describe my state. In fact, the life that humans lived for hundreds of thousands, maybe more years, was half plasma, that is, fluid. Well, were we fully fluid that evening, fully plasma? Yes! Let's not say, "Everything that was ordinary and solid a few days ago is the same solid today," but I'm talking about a memory that I remember concretely.
Maybe, in terms of the justice of what happened that evening, a memory of balance reflected in my mind to my surroundings in the plasma state: It was added a few years ago On the Russian Army Day, in Ankara, in the capital of a society that they did not consider close to civilization, I came across with my eyes over middle-aged ladies from the bright times of tsarism - as if I had seen them - they were sitting while I was sitting there. I passed in front of them. When I turned my head back from the whole plasma evening, we returned to our house, which was just a bourgeois house, and my clothes were quite nice, but not a brand. On the ot

Episode-Without Kochel Number

You may not believe it, but technical studies have reached the high gravity environment with almost the same method as the non-gravity environment is created in space studies. I am a self-employed person, as my child expressed when asked by teachers at school. I say this from this point of view, there was no reason for me to be a citizen who was experimented on in a high gravity environment, I joined the army of candidates for this job and was selected. Let me explain so that everyone can understand, I have been found suitable for all the conditions required for the job. The only problem with the suite I agreed to live in throughout the experiment was that with the slightest movement, I was literally nailing myself to the floor with my shoes, let alone flying into the air as in a zero-gravity environment. I'll lie down, but if you look at the truth of what is said, time, which is neither more nor less fake than the time we know, seemed to have stopped since I entered Söğüt. The money deposited into the bank account throughout the experiment was more than the income I earned at work. Therefore, instead of leaving the suite as soon as possible, I reached the dining table with forceful steps, had my breakfast, wrote at my desk in the study, and did not refrain from doing my daily exercise. My visual and auditory contact with everything and everyone outside my suite continued uninterrupted. I was seeing them and feeling cold, but since the time was very heavy where I was, I did not know whether the signals sent to me by my loved ones in the early evening were sent to me late at night or very early in the morning of their year. In the end, I chose to return to the competitive environment of my early youth, instead of going to the unknown future to compensate for my situation in terms of time. What could I possibly have to lose in terms of success?
Wasn’t I one of the leading opinion leaders of the revolution? What is this household revolution and what has it brought to social life? I do not want to interfere with the issue and damage the ease of understanding. As I said, I am a citizen who, like everyone else, is unaware of the future. While I was going back to my memories and thinking that I was remembering some things right or wrong, I was doubled memoirs as free in going back and left sterile of it as possible. Suppose I am in front of the government building, which is quite untouchable- the colour of the main gate is lighter than the brown tone of the windows, and its stone walls are more affectionate but scarier than its hard-looking wooden joinery-for example, right now-as much as my memory allows. To what extent does the daughter of a respected person, whom I am interested in with the intention of marrying, derive her beauty from the existence of this building? Here is a vitally important question for you. The solution to these and similar situations is video replies or hidden solutions within the replies... I

THE REPERATION REPUBLIC

ONE SPORADIC SHORT STORY

By Abba SOLZHENITSOF

“Viva our Motherland” cried we-having been to come to The State aerodrome recently one of the officers in charge of welcoming old citizens to have been gazing with a certain admiration at their own valises, with which they were of flying, of course, say no more than the fact that they should have been thoroughly familiar with them. It appeared that the elderlies had responded to the invitation to come back home of their hearts not only out of politeness because when they had been asked to attend their senile ecstasy in the pupils of the damned officer for buttering up the old fellow citizens’ existence and to insult their superiority regarding survival out of the homeland.
Of course, interest in survival was not very high even in the homeland itself from the point of least reparation, here in the grey, musing-as a plateau of sombreness, closed in on all sides by reckless slopes, apart from the huge moor hills if not mountains and we there were present only the commended place of reparation with its vacant-looking medics with shirred mouth and well shaven face, and as to the lady docs to have carry hard maquillage who held glimmering-stethoscope like-apparatus to which were connected the small electronic chains which bound the chips by their ears and noses, as well as by the neck of some team members there, and which were also linked to each other by connecting useless buzzing chips.
The merry elderly or rather sporadically pouting, and incidentally to have got a broad smile, had an expression of such baby-like resignation that they looked as if one would set them free to smile but to laugh around the vicinity, they had happened to leave for one reason or another and would only have to seem as if abstaining of any whistle-short or long at the start of the welcome arranged for them to return. The middle age group of ours, say we had little interest in the welcoming ceremony and walked back and forth behind the older people, almost visibly indifferent, while the officers took care of the final preparations to salute us. Sometimes we would scamper before the protocol, to whom was to be shown deep respect probably the deepest on the earth, and sometimes they have had to greet reciprocally the applause from the side of some dept. directors climbed up a ladder to inspect the significant aspects echoed from the parade escorted by clamouring sounds. These were really to be in accordance with jobs which could have been left to the main procedure: reparation although the officers carried on only-not applauding of course-saluting them with hurrahs with great enthusiasm, maybe because they were particularly fond applauses or maybe because there was some other reason why one could not trust the welcoming ceremony ceremonies to anyone else but celebrities. “It’s all ready now!” one of them finally cried and vibrated as one should do climbing back down any ladder.

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

FINALE-BOOK, SAY TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FORM OF PURE ART

(Tags: Soviet influence, Iran, North Korea, Turkey, Syria, Morsi’s Egypt, Cuba

Teaching Annex
TO WHOM IS THE SEAT ADDITIONAL INFORMATION ABOUT?

Those who achieve success and victory early, idle the rest of their time until they die, they are not worth the matter. Napping is already a painful definition: we have no chance of lying down, running around or sitting! Naturally, there is no room for them in the additional information. Can he be considered one of those that everyone whose window overlooks the park sees frequently? No. In other words, it is the only one that should be included in the additional seating information!
He- whoever he is-comes and sits, but after what, before what... he knows this himself or can roughly guess: who is this sitting, what is his purpose in sitting? Neither the sitter nor the sitter observers can explain the question. For example, streets, avenues, etc. are only for walking purposes: everyone takes into account both the people walking and the people walking, including himself, at least in order not to bump into anyone. Walking areas, like every field, help us think. But sitting down again does not lead to any thinking about issues that are now time to think. Can it be said like this?
If there is no movement, it does not attract our rightful or justified curiosity, it does not enter our scope of description. His situation, for example, gave the impression that he had survived a flood and was sitting in the first place he found. Perhaps, I mean definitely, what we understand from sitting again and again is this suggestion: When it comes to natural disasters, sad tears are expensive, you cannot feel sorry for yourself easily. Frankly, you may feel sorry for yourself if there are some things you haven't lost, but the rest is just falling into a heap because you don't know what to do. Later? Then, life will be built again, one will stand up and move out of the additional sitting information,
Okay! Let's get back to our story: he's still sitting. His position is more likely to be found right than those who do not sit, because if he is not sitting on a living creature to cause harm, no one can find him questionable about his rightness.
He must have thought about what was written about him, because a note was wrapped in the stone, he threw against the window saying:
“The common sensitivity of all of us is the right that is the basis of law. In fact, law is in a causal relationship with people's ability to stand on two feet, which is considered a very privileged function in the world. Even today, no one would think of keeping under observation those who do not stand up - roughly, those who do not stand up."
In the note sent with the memory attached to the stone, "Stop making generalizations, of course, individuals do not talk about rights in life other than looking for an authority to take shelter in order to protect their rights." It was said. As someone who took part in the notes, although I was not ashamed of our collective response, I felt uncomfortable. Because right is the only univer

THE CONTINUE OF THE STORY...

We all know that everything that goes on leads us to a birthday party. I pulled my car into a pocket where the asphalt, which looked wet in the sun, met a coke kiosk selling beverages and middle-class pocket wafers, and went down. I approached the window-like sales counter, waving the rosary keychain in my hand. On the other hand, I was watching myself from one of the side windows of the formation. Honestly, I was very stylish because the place I went was the lobby of a small but famous hotel where my father's birthday was celebrated. As stated by the new president, who started to rule the country I was in with a military intervention, if there was no danger within the family - which there was not - I considered myself completely safe outside. In the past, the wide and spacious asphalt roads passing through the rural areas always suggested to me, "Take the village roads and learn a little something from experienced villagers." Let me tell you the truth, if the governments, for better or worse, are fake or not voted in, we, the intellectuals of the world, are trying to learn how to learn, let alone learn. I just wanted to have fun along this journey to joy. Honestly, I can't say that the devil didn't make me think of poppy: If the effects of the new law in Germany have reached us and I can buy 50 grams of marijuana within the legal limits from behind the window counter in front of which I stopped my car, why wouldn't I smoke my marijuana at the party while dancing the happy birthday dad dance figures? Even though we Americans ban poppy planting left and right and show off, humanity does not sit idle and some civilized countries have already passed a law on the sale of marijuana, which is much less dangerous than a watermelon infused with pumpkin genetics, provided that it is not in large quantities. (In order not to make a mistake in the date, I write the date in my notes, please note: March 24, 2024, 16.30 CET / Central European time, four and a half; here it is 6.30 in the afternoon)
Even if I obeyed the traffic rules on the road, I should have been allowed to go off the road a little because today was my father's birthday. I first gave this order to the man in charge of the buffet, he turned pale and scared, it could be easily noticed even from the outside that he took a step or two back from where he was. Reasonable drugs are still prohibited here. When the kiosk guy looked at me strangely, I bought a cold bottle of coke and returned to my car. As I was getting into the driver's seat, I looked back and - excuse me - the kiosk man was looking around in confusion. I grinned, showing my thirty-two teeth as if in mockery, and stepped on the gas noisily. I learned this reaction from my father, who still trades in antique trinkets, and from the uncle who runs his business around him like his shadow. This man's nickname was Sledgehammer. Really, his arms are no different from a sledgehammer handle, they are so strong. If

THE UNCENSORED STORY OF THE GOAT WALKING ON THE CEILING

The goats climb a thousand or two thousand, maybe more meters, and eventually the slope ends at a moderate angle and a wall appears in front of them: a straight wall, that is... To get to the top of the mountain, they must overcome this straight wall. In fact, the goat continues on its way in peace, but according to documentaries, the wall bends towards the goat after fifteen to twenty meters, like the ceiling of a tent. It is no longer a question of the goats climbing the wall, they will have to walk on the ceiling. In fact, more goats are forced to walk on the ceiling than we think, and in general, most of the goats are condemned to this reward of walking on the ceiling. They complete their work successfully, and most of them reach their destination even if they are a little tired, older, or even with minor injuries.
The prolongation of the animal narration naturally forces the narration to change in terms of form, and in the final stage, we encounter this tale. Well, don't we have to tell the story we started and tie it together? It seems like ending a job that has been started without a reason is against the chain of rules called the flow of life, which we only define from a distance, but from which we are not exempt with the excuse of knowing from afar.
Accordingly, we must continue. Let's continue then: from a comprehensive perspective, the goat's climbing on rocks that are not suitable for its slippery hooves except for suicidal purposes is identical to the fate of human beings. Now one must ask: Which of us got to where we are without walking on the ceiling? In the words of an honest citizen in the countryside-for the sake of justice-everyone should give the correct answer by looking at the life adventures of their relatives. Even before the world was created, we had the possibility of being mistaken for a wizard and being made to climb onto iron punishment tables where oaks were burned to be burned-the kind of escalation that even a goat walking on the ceiling-would want to escape from. Let's talk slang: let's say we are cut fine this possibility. Wasn't it possible that one would go to the gallows on September 12 because living in Turkey and being a member of political movements, one had never met aroused suspicion even for a familiar person who was elected American president by a slight mistake?
Each of us has enough ways to get out of trouble to have a mediocre belief, even if it does nothing; We get caught trying to escape from this chance, but the goat walking on the ceiling would escapes from neither the adventure nor the reward of climbing.

The legend told by the physics professor mate of the Pirate Ship:

DISCOVERY OF FALSE LIABILITY

Group math classes and the crazy school principal had left our group deeply worried. Because, as you will remember, our cooperative president, who had previously gone to the podium to speak at the general assembly, climbed the new staircase that appeared in front of him, and even gained altitude to the point of almost piercing the ceiling, with the help of an elevator that suddenly appeared from somewhere, whether from the ground or the air, and went down to the third floor with the same elevator and met the same fate. He was driven to madness.
The formula of necessity on the blackboard will most likely be one of the fundamental theorems of the world's logic, algebra, philosophy, etc. classes from now on:
WRONG OBLIGATION
The theorem is clearly this: people cannot get away with using the mischaracterization, those who call the rule false are actually a trick of those who verify the rule. This rule actually puts an end to the nonsense that is thought to be a rule: two wrongs do not make a right. If two negative numbers are multiplied, a positive number is obtained; If this is true, and it is a fundamental truth, then the square root of minus one is a recipe doomed to error. If we take into account this recipe, which is bound to be wrong twice during a mathematical operation, for example if we multiply them together, the result will be correct, the result is a positive number.
North Koreans and the people of the Turkic Republic, who think in single steps - who believe that they can destroy the great enemy with a nuclear bomb that can destroy an entire continent, for example, who believe in demons and who do not even dare to discuss the possibility of enemies being led to wholesale death turning into demons - and who do not wear out their minds, do not think of such a problem solution. They reject it with a laugh: Let's assume that the number 1 never has a positive value. Then the way to define one in accounts lacking plus one is plus two minus one. But when minus one becomes negative again, it becomes plus one. If you subtract minus one from plus two, we get the number three. In summary, minus one would increase as you deal with it. Whether we look at it from a religious or non-religious perspective, we owe the infinity of the universe to the smallest negative value, which we owe to negative one since negative zero has not been defined yet.
A short-tempered rabbi reacted to this reality as follows: “If the rumors going around are true, the word 'be' in the line 'you say it and it is' is not zero. Something of positive value that is said to be cannot be at all. Creativity is, of course, the level of thinking economically, producing the most with the least amount of material... there is no doubt that this is the case.!”

ABBA SOLZHENYTSOF
APHORISMS

The success of establishing a family and continuing it with children requires too many coincidences to fit into any limitless lie.

The source of laziness can be nothing other than being overwhelmed by the intense desire to work.

The Modern Absurd Drama tells the story of life itself. What can you say furthermore is that theater stages are much smaller than that of life!

One and only possibility to alienate new generations from spirituality could be realized with very long spiritual advice downright.

Arabs and Jews prefer to remain within their personal groups rather than becoming nations. That's why Arabs should help Israel's military power when Jews would curse it.

Economic disaster that is tried to be hidden prolong life; in other words, it will slow down the death of economy.

Human beings' love for the opposite sex is inexhaustible. But if it is pushed too hard, love will make the lover gag.

If the individual who falls in love with a body part is not a professional belly dancer, no matter one will begin to make fun of that poor organ one oneself is with twenty-four hours a day.

New Vikings-Russians are the rulers of our homeland, Asia, and the consensual husbands of Iran.

Who else could be making up the lie about Islamist terrorists other than those who use some Muslims for the sake of terrorism?

A person whose face is forced to be seen on the street wears a mask and hides when making love.

ABBA SOLZHENYTSOF
(Aphorisms/Sayings)

If there is no device that can deliver shock during the economic heart attacks of banana-type republics, death is inevitable.

The existence of the soul does not require proof because it can feel itself, because although matter can turn and look at itself, it cannot turn back and look at what it is looking at.

Nothing that has a name can be immortal. The soul that pursues eternal life can live in hearts for the longest time: like Müslüm Baba, Socrates, Pastor, Deli Peter.

Human communities that are well-developed in terms of education, thought and feeling govern themselves democratically and agree without putting things in writing. As for the savages who are inadequate in the two matters mentioned, they find the solution in a shepherd whose incompetence is despoticly hidden.

The single unproductive man still becomes a god in the eyes of the masses he collapses: "When will it be my turn?" It creates fear, fills the day with terror, prevents boredom, and equips citizens with a lot of prayer and gratitude.

Neighborhoods where the gang extorts money are given a triple reward: donuts, cardigans, and as much medium-scale cruelty as they can get used to.

The age at which human beings remain vigorous gives them the opportunity to go on expeditions 5 years longer than the sultan who went to Vienna after his 85th year. Because the great Viennese not only believed that the world was flat, but also believed that the ox stood on its horns, and that if the ox shook its head, earthquakes would occur.

Where does the saying "There are no bananas left, let's give it air" come from? The anti-humanitarian coup plotters looked like bananas from afar because they wore uniforms. Now clothes are allowed and oxygen has no color.

Chorus:
Would a conceptually blind person say, "My father is a saint, the next color after green at traffic lights is banana"!

Aphorisms
Abba Solhenitsof

What's the harm in confessing? Which of us, as children, did not make fun of our elders who thought we were innocent?

Even the savages in the Amazon jungle enjoy praying in their happy moments. The person who should be taken as an example in this regard - if there is one - is the one whose love of worship is not affected by happiness or pain.

Untouchability is the dirtiest crime described with fancy words.

The colonialists' development of weapons is just a show-off. They develop fake economic theories.

Mortals who are acquainted with the state of "doubt of trust" cannot become believers.

Observe how a people's end will come to an end: if they spend without producing, they will run out without money!

The literary content of primitive societies is full of events that are not written to be understood. The pens of civilized countries, on the other hand, refer to ideas and events whenever they have the opportunity.

In underdeveloped democracies, there are only elements of power: supporters of power and opponents of power.

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SINGLE PERSON SEESaw

Doctor Abba Solzhenitsof

In a place close to Iran... there are many lowercase pashas; Hacı Murat the Well, Seven-Eight Ignorant Hasan are the old dead, the coup plotters are fresh, without graves...
A few graves exist, but they are not deep; humorous lower case "micro communist son of saints" deep insistent, shameless...
The folk song "In the past, let's see people fall into poverty, small letters become micro and light on the seesaw, bankrupts outweigh and fall" was once a national song to have been hated,
From the musty past to the present, the game has changed, and the players; No one realizes it, but the amputee seesaw is immeasurably outdated!