Epistolary genre. Prince Rasul Yagudin (Paris, France). The legendary residence

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Epistolary genre. Prince Rasul Yagudin (Paris, France). The legendary residence

Post by Admin on Fri Jul 20, 2018 4:47 pm

Yesterday about 18.20-18.30 in the haum on the address..., in the haus ..., when I was walking in the shower, one young strong muslim (approximately azerbaijanian), talking with the security of the second floor, made by his fingers in my direction a mocking offensive gesture.
It is not a very big problem – I already responded him, and if what, I have enough friends among the antisocial element of Germany in order to calm the muslim bastards down forever (the almost an eight years of the life on European streets awarded me by strange, unexpected and pretty useful contacts).
The problem is in the security of the second floor (pretty old, bald, moustache, with eyeglasses, muslim, approximately turkish)
He always makes problems on the floor.
For example, he regularly collects around him children and for long time has fun with them – talking, laughing, showing them something in his Iphone, slightly embracing them...
I think, it is the time to inform you, that pedophilia is a crime and a symptom of a socially dangerous psychic desease.
But if he isn't a pedophil, but just an idiot... why does he make noise in the house? Every evening I return in the house from my volunteery job very tired, and I need silence and order to restore my forces for a next job-day...
He is a security or a hooligan?
And... at all – as an any normal teacher I hate children. I never communicate with children, if I don't receive for this salary. Is this a house or a kinder-garten?
And there are a pretty many strange persons among the security of the house.
For example one of them (young, always not shaven, apparently muslim, approximately turkish or arab) every day, mockinly giggling, asks me, what I am doing with water, a bucket of which I every day bring in the room. Sooner or later I will pour all water out on his stupid head and put the emptied bucket to him on the ears – maybe this will satisfy his curiosity.
The job of a security is not that to fuck my brain by idiotic questions. The job of a security is to guard me. FOR THIS he receives a salary!
Maybe, You already has a question, why I appeal to You instead appealing to the authorities of the dormit? But about a week ago I already complained them on the inhabitant of the 106th room. The result is zero – that idiot muslim continues to make very much noise.

P. S. for police:
On the last autumn I was hitchhiking from Potsdam to Venetcia. The police car came to me with the usual shit – forbidden... blah-blah-blah...
Both of policemen were dirty, in uniform shirts, buttoned only on one button, the buckles of their belts were on the level of their pelvises, the trouser legs were sweeping the ground, collecting all shit on themselves, and the angles oh their shirts were hanging above their pants like strips of torn mini-skirts of drunken prostitutes...
POTSDAM!!! The legendary residence of German highest nobility!!!
Now it is seen, who are princes and who are plebs.

If I would see a soldier in a such ugly form in my platoon, I would order to shoot him and his sergeant in front of all other warriors. For the betrayal of the Motherland. For the discreditation the Army of the USSR.
You know – on a war a commander does not bother about human and civil rights. He has a right to sentence a traitor to death. Or just to shoot him by himself.

à la guerre comme à la guerre.

Prince Rasul Yagudin
Dr. of Philology.
Teacher of Russian language and literature


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