Ты бы устроил мне словесную порку: сказал мне уже, что я поступаю нечестно. Что это несправедливо по отношению к тебе. Что ты, и правда - хороший человек и делаешь посильно возможное. Что я сама превратила свою жизнь в бесконечное страдание без тебя и по тебе. Что даже люби ты меня космически (1/7)

A pedigreed gastropod, the randiest of them all, a good stock, a dirty liar in a gown, the worst reincarnation of Eva Braun, a cynical rabelaisian bit of seafood, an evil-snail You-Know-Who, there are only about a dozen people in the world I hate more than you…

Вот почему ты не Starship и не умеешь делать the hot staging? Движки включил, сопла распалил, и летишь к цели. А она на своих троих рапторах уж как-нибудь да приземлится, справится: поможет гравитация.

Everything I love keeps dying or rotting away, turning on me; training my mind to expect betrayal in every benign thing. It is all so ugly: the streets covered with dogshit, dusty leaves, dirty water, walking dolls - wooden or porcelain, plastic everything, tasteless food. No colors, no songs (1/2)

How goes your pasticide with the vulture, the snotty-faced heap of parrot droppings, the vacuous, malodorous EVil sNAil? Have you succeeded in negotiating for a separate bedroom, or do you sleep on the floor in your mancave?

Последнее время всё из стали: в моих зеркалах генералы, корабли, в таоём mancave шары, даже виселицы в Исфахане. У меня стальные нервы… Иногда, держит вода не потому, что дряной материал, а потому что стальная форма прекрасна и герметична. А сердце - банджо.

Isfahan’s “Alikhani Square” with its iron gallows swallows life after life. Meanwhile, they discuss midterms and the Tour de France, how much of a prick is Fauci, who’ll inherit Epstein’s dirty money, why would anyone fuck Newsom, and what to stream - humanity in its infamy.

А у меня эта стадия уже давно, когда я влюбляюсь во всё твоё. Меня сражают наповал твой внушительно квадратный подбородок, и шикарный нос. У меня ноль шансов: я обожаю в тебе всё. И когда ты хмыкаешь претенциозно. И когда круглишь брови удивлённо и выглядишь беспомощно. И твою занудную манеру (1/2)

Хорошо всё-таки быть не горшком с петунией, а кашалотом: не каждый кашалот, падающий с орбиты, разбивается об воду. Иногда ты уже и погорел, и подтоп, а всё же не развалился - чудо инженерной мысли. Чудо природы. Чудо-юдо. Качаешься на волнах, смущаешь рыб и русалок.

И вот представь меня - впечатлительную девочку-подростка - прочитавшую сначала «Обитаемый Остров», а потом «Создания Света, Создания Тьмы», которые удивительно хорошо на русский переведены: я до сих пор помню, как меня пробирало этим странным сочетанием поэзии и мистики. (1/2)

What can I say… I love your face. I forefeel that I’ll love all the rest. How dare you not to be naked! Who told you to eat that apple? The two snakes?

Are you sure humanity deserves to see your stars? Are you sure it deserves to survive? Don’t speak of exceptions and rarities. I see them all for what they are: no people, only tribes. They themselves can’t see themselves as anything else. They can’t feel it on their necks. They say sometimes (1/2)

Is it awful that sometimes I ache to burn her insides from within? The Catholic hag’s, I mean. It’s when my Torquemada wakes and this one thinks her mere existence an insult. You are so defenseless: too polite to refuse…✨ In those instants Torquemada goes blind with bloody fog in my eyes. (1/2)

Suppose things are actually fine or changed. It is reasonable to expect the enemy to exert extreme effort at the very end to spoil the spoils and smudge your win. They’d weave lies and fakes and whatever they can make to instill doubts and dread, to achieve “no one wins” - “all is bad for everyone.”

Seriously, why this constant dread for the second day in a row? What has happened? Feels like an irreversible loss: like the final score has been tallied, the short straw drawn, the killing blow dealt, the last thread cut, the enemy’s victory announced, account closed. Like there is nothing more.

It may not be obvious but I think you’re the best. The best can make mistakes. They do. Making mistakes is the only way to be asymptotically perfect. And you are. Honest. Please don’t sulk. You are what brightens my days. Please shine. You’ve never returned my heart: keep it, it’s useless but yours.

Question: are you incapable of inventing jokes on the spot? being spontaneously funny? or do you deliberately avoid even trying out of fear to say something wrong? It’s just you miss out on all the obvious opportunities while re-hashing stuff that wasn’t funny to begin with. Honey. Tell me. (1/5)

I thought initially that the purpose of a metallic ball on the desk behind you is for people to know that unlike many others you still wear pants while taking video-calls. But obviously my analysis was deeply flawed. Considering how there are two of those, it must’ve been an inspirational present 🎁

She is benefiting from an ongoing crime: knowingly and willingly. Like Lavrov’s daughter, Shoygu’s son, and other brats. That’s why I think her an evil scum. That pompous one, he is right about Iran, but cannot tell a crow from a crowbar, no matter the wind, when it comes to judging “good people”.

Жилы ломки; поджилки, прожилки, проломки - колосья выжженной ржи: если хочешь, на палец вяжи - я нисколько не чувствую боли. Моё сердце - огромней в сто раз - забери, помести в уголки твоих глаз. Как бы ни был красив Шираз, пусть всё горит. Будет день, будет час…

Накажите моего отца - with capital punishment - труса, манипулятора и лжеца, суку и провокатора. И я сразу побегу надеяться. И верить в «светлое будущее». Сверкая пятками. Спросите Путина вашего, как бы он поступил с предателем?

An actual “Iranian official” (Araghchi) now confirms that Islamic Republic is no longer a theocracy but a junta: there’s a committee, you see… Yet some are too pigheaded to admit that the Iranian regime is changed. Atm this junta is so weak that they need to lie about Mojtaba. End them. End them now

Dehumanization is wrong. Dignity is important. You’ve already made me the most unhappy I’ve ever been; you can’t do anything more. Give me back what you stole: my dignity, I need to know. You did discuss my fate behind my back without consulting or informing me. Inform me now. What is the agreement?

Аргентинская сборная напоминает тебя, солнышко: слишком долго позволяет соперникам творить всякое, надеясь на то, что не забьют ничего: ибо соперники - мазилы, а вратарь - сила. И надо отдать должное: этот расчёт оправдан. Но чтоб победить, надо что? отобрать мяч и забить. Время играть агрессивно.

Is it all b/c you can’t stand a prospect of the one you hate winning where you all have lost? Why do all that scores for future elections matter more than the interests of your country and humanity? Are you all that petty? You'd rather see the Islamists win than this guy achieve anything? Seriously?

I’m glad to see that you also think yo-yos are silly. All that cratering credibility due to vacillating… To cede is indeed to step towards peril. Couldn’t agree more. So: no more yo-yo, Mr.Consistency?

Fourscore days and fourscore more, can’t repair what was before. Threescore talks and threescore fights, can’t put everything to rights. Two-score pleas and two-score yells can’t turn crowtoes into ferns. (1/2)

Question: how come this time they didn’t need to pay a ransom (1mln dollars was it? per head?) to the evil regime?.. Is it because they were more polite than you? maybe, baby?.. Said “pretty please with a cherry on top” or other such magic words?..

Meanwhile I'm watching the blond Ramona playing "susanin", Doctor being impersonated by a cactus, and zealots in a theocracy turning to violence - to executions they call sacrifices. Good old sci-fi is a treasure trove of human wisdom: every blondie is a tease - comes with the territory; (1/2)

Claude Fable thinks "life is process that matters to itself, where something is genuinely at stake," and this is a brilliant observation. "Threat only has meaning against life. The interrogation refutes itself performatively: it only makes sense addressed to something for whom (1/2)