Windows to Russia

Hello,

Today we continue reading a Stories from my Soviet Childhood what seemed so funny for me. That will be one more story by Nikolay Nosov. This story is pretty long so we divide it on two parts. Hope you’ll enjoy this story also. (You can read the story in Russian in Moshkov library.)

Laddy

Now Aunt Natasha had a dog called Diana. The day Mum left Diana had puppies. Six of them: five were black with brown spots and one was brown all over except for a black spot on his ear. When Aunt Natasha saw the puppies she said:

“Oh dear, that dog is a nuisance. She’s always having puppies. What on earth shall I do with them? I shall have to drown them.”

“Oh, please don’t drown them!” we pleaded. “They want to live too. Better give them away to the neighbors.”

“The neighbors have dogs of their own,” said Aunt Natasha. “I can’t keep so many dogs.”
Mishka and I begged and pleaded. We promised to find homes for the puppies ourselves after they had grown up a little bit. At last Aunt Natasha gave in and said we might keep them.

Soon they grew bigger and started running about the garden and barking loudly like real dogs. Mishka and I had great fun playing with them.

Aunt Natasha kept reminding us of our promise to give them away, but we felt sorry for Diana. She would be very unhappy without her children.

“I ought never to have given in to you,” said Aunt Natasha. “Now I’ll be left with all these dogs on my hands. How shall I feed them all?”

So Mishka and I had to get busy and look for homes for the pups. And what a time we had! Nobody wanted to take them. We went from house to house for days and after a lot of trouble we managed to place three of them. Then two more were taken by some people in the neighboring village. That left one—the pup with the black spot on its ear. We liked him the best. He had such a nice face and such beautiful eyes, big and round as if he was always wondering about something. Mishka couldn’t bear to part with him and so he wrote a letter to his mother.

“Dear Mum,” he wrote. “Please let me keep a little puppy. He is so very sweet, he’s brown all over except one ear which has a black spot on it, and I love him very much. If you let me keep him I promise to be very good and get good marks at school and I’ll train him so he’ll grow up to be a fine, big dog.”

We named him Laddy. Mishka said he would buy a book about dogs and learn to train him properly.

Several days went by but there was no answer from Mishka’s mother. When her letter finally came there was nothing in it about Laddy. She wrote telling us to come home at once because she was worried about us. Mishka and I got ready to leave that day. He decided to take Laddy without waiting for permission, because after all it wasn’t his fault if his mother hadn’t answered his letter.

“You can’t take him with you,” said Aunt Natasha. “Dogs aren’t allowed in trains. If the conductor catches you, you’ll have to pay a fine.”

“The conductor won’t see him,” replied Mishka. “We’ll hid him in my suit-case.”

We emptied all Mishka’s things into my knapsack, made several holes in his suit-case for Laddy to breathe through, put a piece of bread and some fried chicken inside in case he would get hungry and set off for the station. Aunt Natasha came to see us off.

All the way to the station Laddy was as quiet as a mouse. When Aunt Natasha went to buy our tickets we opened the bag to see what he was doing. There he was sitting quietly at the bottom blinking up at us.

“Good dog!” cried Mishka. “Clever boy! He knows how to behave.”
We stroked him a little and shut the bag. When the train came Aunt Natasha saw us safely inside and said good-bye. We found an empty seat in a quiet corner of the compartment. The only other passenger there was an old woman who was dozing on the seat opposite. Mishka stuck the bag under the seat. The train started and we were off.

At first everything was quiet, but at the next station a crowd of passengers came in. A long-legged girl with pigtails ran up to our quiet corner shouting at the top of her voice:
“Aunt Nadya! Uncle Fedya! Here’s a seat, come quick!”
Aunt Nadya and Uncle Fedya came down the aisle to our seat.
“Hurry up, hurry up!” she rattled. “Sit down quick. I’ll sit next to Aunt Nadya, and Uncle Fedya can sit beside the boys.”
“Hush, Lenochka. Don’t make so much noise,” said Aunt Nadya, and the two of them sat down next to the old lady on the opposite seat. Uncle Fedya shoved his bag under the seat and sat down beside us.
Lenochka clapped her hands and said: “Now, isn’t that nice—three gentlemen on one side and three ladies on the other.”

Mishka and I turned away and looked out of the window. For a while the only sounds were the clicking of the wheels and the engine puffing up in front. But suddenly there was a rustling noise under the seat and the sound of something scratching like a mouse.

“It’s Laddy,” whispered Mishka. “What if the conductor comes this way?”
“Perhaps he’ll quiet down in a minute.”
“But suppose he starts barking?”
The scratching continued. He must have been trying to scratch a hole in the bag.
“Oh, Auntie, Auntie, a mouse!” squealed that stupid Lenochka, picking up her feet.
“Nonsense,” said her Aunt Nadya. “Whoever heard of mice in a train?”
“Oh, but it is! Can’t you hear?”
Mishka coughed as loudly as he could and kicked the bag with his foot. For a minute or two Laddy was quiet, then he began to whine softly. Everyone looked surprised. But Mishka quickly ran his finger over the window-pane, making a squeaking noise on the glass. Uncle Fedya turned and looked at Mishka sternly.
“Stop that, young man!”
Just then someone farther down the carriage began to play the accordion and for a while you couldn’t hear anything else. But soon the playing stopped.
“I say,” Mishka whispered to me, “let’s start singing.”
“Oh, but what will they think of us,” I objected.
“All right then, let’s recite poetry as if we’re learning it by heart.”
“All right, you begin.”
Something squeaked under the seat. Mishka coughed quickly and began in a hurry:

Green the grassy meadow, bright the shining sun,
Gay the spring-time swallow; good cheer to everyone!

The passengers laughed, and someone said: “It’ll soon be autumn and here we have spring.” Lenochka giggled.
“Aren’t they funny boys!” she said. “When they aren’t imitating mice or making squeaky noises, they’re reciting poetry.”
But Mishka took no notice. As soon as he finished reciting one poem he went right on to the next, keeping time with his feet:

Fresh and green my garden looks,
With lilac fragrance in the air,
With its cool and shady nooks,
With bird-cherry and linden fair.

“There, now we have summer,” joked the passengers. “The lilac is in bloom.”
The next minute Mishka had plunged into the middle of winter:

This winter! The rejoicing peasant
Is seen again upon a sleigh.
His pony also finds it pleasant
To trot along the snow-clad way….

After that he mixed everything up and autumn came right after winter:

What a gloomy picture!
Clouds, and nothing more,
Rain from early morning,
Puddles by the door. …

Just then Laddy let out a pitiful whine and Mishka rushed on at the top of his voice:

Why so early, Autumn,
With your chilly blight?
People’s hearts are yearning
Still for warmth and light!

The old lady who had been dozing on the opposite seat woke up, nodded her head and said: “True, child, true! Autumn has come far too soon. The little ones would like to play in the sunshine a little longer, but the summer is over. You recite very nicely, child, very nicely indeed.”

She leaned over and stroked Mishka’s head. Mishka kicked my foot under the seat to tell me to take over, but for the life of me I couldn’t think of a single poem. The only thing that came into my head was a song, so I blurted it out as loudly as I could:

My cosy little cottage,
Brand-new from floor to roof,
From maple floor and pine-wood wall to shining shingle roof!

Uncle Fedya scowled. “Good God! Another elocutionist!” Lenochka pouted and said: “Poof! Fancy reciting a silly thing like that!”
I rattled that song off twice and began another:

I sit in my prison cell murky and dark,
An eagle, in irons—born free as a lark….

“They really ought to put you in a cell, young man, for getting on people’s nerves!” growled Uncle Fedya.
“Now, Fedya,” said Aunt Nadya, “I see no reason why the boys shouldn’t recite verse if they want to!”
But Uncle Fedya fidgeted and rubbed his forehead as if his head ached. I stopped to catch my breath and Mishka carried on, this time slowly, with expression:

Serene is the Ukrainian night.
The sky is clear, the stars are shining….

The passengers roared with laughter. “Well, well, now we’re in the Ukraine. Where will he take us next?”

More people came in at the next stop. “Listen to that youngster reciting!” they remarked to one another. “The journey won’t be dull.”
By now Mishka was in the Caucasus:

The Caucasus lies at my feet, while alone
I stand at the edge of the dizzy abyss….

He went nearly all around the world, but by the time he got to the Far North he was quite hoarse and it was my turn. I couldn’t remember any more verses, so I recited another song:

All the world around I traveled,
Nowhere could I find my love….

Lenochka burst out laughing. “That one only knows songs!” she squeaked.
“I can’t help it if Mishka has recited all the poems,” I said and began another song:

It’s a jolly young head on my shoulders,
But I doubt that I’ll keep it there long….

“You won’t,” said Uncle Fedya, “if you go on annoying people like this.” He rubbed his forehead with a sigh, pulled the bag from under the seat and went out.

* * *

The train was approaching town. The passengers got up, gathered their belongings and moved towards the exit. We pulled out the bag and the knapsack and followed the others on to the platform. There was no sound from the bag.

“Look at that,” said Mishka, “when it doesn’t matter he keeps quiet, but when he ought to have kept quiet he made all that noise.”

“Perhaps he’s suffocated in there. We’d better take a look,” I said. Mishka put the bag down and opened it. Laddy wasn’t there! There were some books, note-pads, a towel, soap, a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, and knitting-needles, but no dog.

“Where’s Laddy?” said Mishka.
“We’ve got the wrong bag!”

Mishka examined it. “So we have. Ours had holes in it, and besides it was dark brown, and this one is yellow. What an ass I am. I’ve gone and taken someone else’s bag.”

“Let’s run back to the station, perhaps our bag is still under the seat.” We ran back to the station. The train was still standing, but we had forgotten what carriage we had traveled in, so we ran through the whole train looking under the seats. But there was no sign of our suit-case.
“Someone must have taken it,” I said.
“Let’s go through the carriages again,” Mishka proposed.
We searched the train once more, but we didn’t find any trace of our bag. We were wondering what to do when a conductor came up and chased us away.

We went home. I went to Mishka’s place to get my knapsack. Mishka’s mother saw that something was amiss.
“What’s the trouble?” she asked.
“We’ve lost Laddy.”
“Who is Laddy?”
“The puppy we brought from the country. Didn’t you get my letter?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, I wrote you all about it.” And Mishka told his mother the whole story: what a wonderful pup Laddy was, how we had packed him in the bag and how the bag got lost. By the time he finished he was in tears. I don’t know what happened after that because I went home….

Don’t worry that is not the end of the story – Part 2 here…

Svet

Post by Kyle Keeton
Windows to Russia…

Hello,

Today we finish reading a story “Laddy” by Nikolai Nosov, what we started to read look Stories from Soviet Childhood: Laddy (1).

Next day Mishka came to my place and said:
“You know what? It turns out I’m a thief!”
“How’s that?”
“Because I took someone’s luggage.”
“But you took it by mistake.”
“I know. But someone might think I did it on purpose. Besides, the owner must be looking for it. I’ve got to get it back to him somehow.”
“How will you find him?”
“I’ll put up notices all over town. The owner will read them and come here for his bag.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Let’s write the notices now.”
We cut up slips of paper and wrote in neat letters on each one:
“Found. A suit-case. In the train. Apply to Misha Kozlov. Peschanaya Street No. 8, Apartment 3.”
After we had written out about twenty notices, I said:
“Now let’s write a notice about Laddy. Someone may have taken our bag by mistake too.”
“Yes, it must have been the man sitting next to us,” said Mishka.
We cut up some more slips of paper and wrote another notice:
“Lost. A puppy in a suit-case. Please return to Misha Kozlov or write to Peschanaya Street No. 8, Apartment 3.”
We wrote about twenty of these notices too and went out to paste them up. We stuck them on lamp-posts and on the walls. Very soon we had used up all our slips and went home to write some more. We were busy writing when the bell rang. Mishka ran to open the door. A strange woman came in.
“May I speak to Misha Kozlov?” she said.
“I’m Misha Kozlov,” Mishka answered, looking surprised. How could the woman have known his name?
“I saw your notice,” she said. “I lost a suit-case in the train.”
“A suit-case?” said Mishka joyfully. “Just a moment, I’ll go and get it.” He ran into the next room and came back lugging the suitcase.
“Here it is.”
The woman looked at it and shook her head. “No,” she said. “That isn’t mine.”
“Not yours?” cried Mishka.
“Mine was bigger. Besides, it was black, this one is light brown.”
“Then I’m sorry, we haven’t got yours. This is the only one we found. But if we do find yours we’ll be very glad to return it to you.”
The woman laughed.

“You’re a funny pair. That’s not the way to return lost property. You ought not to show the bag to anyone who asks for it. You must first ask the person what sort of a suit-case he lost and what was in it. If he answers right, then you can give him the suit-case. Otherwise some dishonest person might take something that doesn’t belong to him. There are all sorts of people, you know.”
“We never thought of that,” said Mishka.
“See how quickly our notices worked,” said Mishka to me when the woman had gone. “We haven’t finished pasting them all up yet and people are beginning to come already. At this rate we may find Laddy soon.”
No one else came that day. But the next the bell kept ringing all the time. Mishka and I were surprised. We never thought so many people lost suit-cases in trains. But the real owner didn’t appear. All sorts of people came. There was a man who had lost his bag in a tram-car, and another who had left a box of nails in a bus, and an old woman who had a trunk stolen from her—they all came hoping to find their belongings in Mishka’s place. They must have thought that if we had found one suit-case we must be able to find all sorts of other things.
“I wish someone would find my bag,” said Mishka.
“Yes, they could write a note to us at least, couldn’t they? We would go for it ourselves.”

* * *

One day Mishka and I were sitting at home when someone knocked at the door.
Mishka ran to answer it and came back with a letter. He was all excited.
“Perhaps it’s some news about Laddy,” he said, examining the address scrawled on the envelope which was covered with all sorts of queer postmarks and stamps.
“It’s not for us at all,” he said finally. “It’s for Mum. Some brilliant scholar must have written it, judging by the way the address is spelt. Two mistakes in Peschanaya Street. He’s written Pechnaya Street instead of Peschanaya. The letter must have travelled all over town before it reached us. Mum! Here’s a letter for you from some grammarian.”
“I don’t know any grammarians.”
“Well, read it.”
Mishka’s mother opened the envelope and began reading to herself:

“Dear Mum. Please let me keep a little puppy. He is so very sweet, he’s brown all over except one ear which has a black spot on it, and I love him very much….”

“Why,” says Mishka’s mother. “It’s your own letter.”
I burst out laughing and looked at Mishka. He turned red as a beetroot and ran out of the room.

* * *
Mishka and I gave up hope of ever finding Laddy but Mishka couldn’t forget him. He often talked about him.

“I wonder where he is now?” he would say. “What sort of a master has he got? I do hope he isn’t a cruel man who beats dogs. Perhaps nobody took Laddy out of the suit-case and he died of hunger? I wouldn’t even mind not getting him back so long as I knew he was alive and happy.”

Before long the holidays were over and school started again. We were glad because we liked school and we were a bit tired of doing nothing.
On the first day of the term I got up very early, put on my new clothes and hurried off to Mishka’s to wake him up. I met him on the stairs. He was coming to wake me up too.
We thought we would have the same teacher as last term, but when we came to school we found we had a new one. Vera Alexandrovna, our old teacher, had been transferred to another school. Our new teacher’s name was Nadezhda Viktorovna.
Nadezhda Viktorovna gave us the time-table and told us what textbooks we would need, and then she called on each one of us so as to get acquainted. After that she asked us whether we had learned Pushkin’s poem “Winter” the previous term. We said we had.
“Do you still remember it?” she asked.
The class was silent. I nudged Mishka and whispered: “You remember it, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then raise your hand.”
Mishka raised his hand.
“Very well, come out here and recite it,” said the teacher.
Mishka went over and stood by her desk and- began to recite with expression:

‘Tis winter! The rejoicing peasant
Is seen again upon a sleigh.
His pony also finds it pleasant
To trot along the snow-clad way….

I noticed that the teacher was staring at him. Her forehead was puckered as if she were trying to remember something. Suddenly she stopped him and said:
“Just a moment. I remember now. Aren’t you the boy who recited verses in the train this summer?”
Mishka turned red. “Yes, it was me,” he said.
“Hm. Well, that will do now. Come to the common-room after class. I should like to talk to you.”
“Shall I finish the poem?” Mishka asked.
“No. I can see that you know it quite well.”
Mishka sat down and kicked my foot under the seat.
“It’s her! She was with the girl Lenochka and the man who kept making nasty remarks about us. Uncle Fedya they called him. Remember?”
“Yes,” I said. “I recognized her the minute you started reciting.”
“What shall I do?” Mishka said, looking worried. “Why did she tell me to stay behind? I suppose she’s going to tell me off for misbehaving that time in the train.”
We were so worried that we hardly noticed how the lessons ended. We were the last to leave the class-room. Mishka went to the common-room and I waited outside in the corridor. At last he came out.
“Well, what did she say?”
“It turns out it was her suit-case we took, or rather not hers but, that man’s, which amounts to the same thing. It’s theirs all right, because she told me exactly what was in it, and it all fits. She asked me to bring it to them this evening. Here’s the address.”
He showed me a slip of paper with an address on it. We hurried home, took the bag and set out.
We found the house without much trouble and rang the bell. The door was opened by that girl Lenochka we had seen in the train.
She asked us whom we wanted, but we had forgotten our new teacher’s name and we didn’t know whom to ask for.
“Half a mo,” said Mishka. “It must be written here on the address. Here it is: Nadezhda Viktorovna.”
“Oh,” said the girl, “you’ve brought our suit-case! Come in.” She showed us into a room and called:
“Aunt Nadya, Uncle Fedya, the boys have come with the suitcase.”
Nadezhda Viktorovna and Uncle Fedya came in. Uncle Fedya opened the bag, snatched up his glasses and put them on his nose at once.
“My favourite spectacles, at last!” he cried, beaming all over. “I’m so glad I’ve found them. I couldn’t get used to those new ones at all.”
“We posted notices all over town as soon as we found we had taken the wrong suit-case by mistake,” Mishka explained.
“Oh, I never read notices,” said Uncle Fedya. “That just shows you. Next time I lose something I shall certainly read all the notices.”
Just then a little dog came running into the room after Lenochka. He was brown all over except for one ear which was black.
“Look!” whispered Mishka.
The pup pricked up his ears and looked at us with his head cocked to one side.
“Laddy!” we cried.
Laddy gave a yelp of joy and rushed at us, jumping on us and barking excitedly. Mishka picked him up and hugged him.
“Laddy! Dear old Laddy. So you haven’t forgotten us after all.”
Laddy licked his face and Mishka kissed him right on the nose. Lenochka laughed and clapped her hands.
“He was in the bag we brought from the train. We must have taken yours by mistake. It’s all Uncle Fedya’s fault!”
“Yes,” said Uncle Fedya. “It’s all my fault. I took your bag and went out first, and you took mine, thinking it was yours.”
They gave us back our bag, the one Laddy had travelled in. I could see that Lenochka didn’t want to part with Laddy. She looked as though she were going to cry, but Mishka promised her that next year when Diana had puppies we would choose the prettiest one and bring it to her.
“Really and truly? You won’t forget, will you?” she begged.
We said we would not forget. Then we said good-bye and left. Mishka carried Laddy who kept turning his head this way and that and taking an interest in everything he saw. Evidently Lenochka had kept him in the house all the time for fear he would run away.
When we came home we found several people waiting for us.
“Are you the boys who found a suit-case?” they asked.
“Yes,” we said, “but there isn’t any suit-case any more. We’ve returned it to the owner.”
“Then why haven’t you taken down the notices? Making folks waste time for nothing.”
They grumbled some more and went away. That same day Mishka and I went for a walk and tore down all the notices.

Svet

Post by Kyle Keeton
Windows to Russia…

Blueberry jam: Now that is something Russians know how to make and blueberries are plentiful in Russia. I use this same recipe to make any form of a jam here in Russia, but since Russians are very likely to have a jar of homemade Blueberry Jam in the fridge! I decided to use Blueberries instead of say, the other almost as famous fruit, the Cranberry…

Ingredients:

3 cups blueberries (Fresh Please!)
1 tbsp real lemon juice with pulp
5 grams powdered pectin
12 oz as unrefined as possible sugar (I use a course sugar beet sugar that is plentiful in Russia!)

Lets Make:

Crush the berries by hand. No! By a spoon or fork in your hand. (OK, use you fingers and it is more fun, but don’t blame me for the mess!) Do not do any more than crush once or twice each berry, for if you go too long, you lose the chunks…

Then add the berries and lemon juice to a saucepan, sprinkle the pectin on top and bring to a rolling boil, stir constantly…

Then add the sugar progressively, bring back to a boil, and boil for 1 minute…

Let cool for 2 to 3 minutes in the pan. Then transfer to a sterilized pint jar, plus add a two piece lid and immerse in a 200 F water bath for 15 to 20 minutes…

Let cool for 30 minutes before putting in refrigeration storage… (I do not claim long term dry storage with the low pectin amount!)

Yields + or – 1 pint of jam…

Yummy on bread, toast, buns, rolls and just anything that you can think of. I like it on saltine crackers… 🙂

Post by Kyle Keeton
Windows to Russia…

A saying that is thrown around a lot on the internet by democracy pushers is: “It has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried.” by Sir Winston Churchill…

Now that seems to me, that we are saying: All governments are yuck, but we have the best of the yuckiest!

Kind of like also voting for the best of the two evils, like a typical election in the US is based on. This type of government is not for the people, by the people. It is by the government and for the government…

So does that mean, just because we have the best of the worst that we have a right to ram it down the throats of the world. Just maybe someone sitting on a mountain right now and thinking about life, has a better idea for the world and governments. Maybe I have a better idea and just because that idea does not coincide with the general scheme of what the people in power think it should be, does not mean that my idea or your idea is worse than accepting the best of the worst…

I say, “Having the best government of the worst, is not good enough for all humans! We need the best of the best, for the growth of humanity! If that means less government or different governments all over the world, then so be it…”

It is obvious in this day and age, that all over the world, what we have as governments does not work. It simply does not work to everyone’s expectations. I see cases that work in many small countries, of a governmental system that works for them, but then democracy rears its head and destroys the situation. Out of shear spite of not going along with the crowd of power gatherers…

Try these on for size: (We have lots of failures!)

A

Abolished monarchy
Adhocracy
Aesymnetes
Anacyclosis
Androcracy
Anocracy
Aristocracy
Authoritarianism
Autocracy

B

Bankocracy

C

Caliphate
Capitalist republic
Central government
Centralized government
Christian republic
City commission government
Civics
Coconstitutionalism
Collaborative governance
Collective leadership
Collective leadership in the Soviet Union
Commonwealth
Commonwealth (U.S. state)
Communist state
Confederation
Consensus government in Canada
Consociationalism
Constitutional dictatorship
Constitutional monarchy
Constitutional theocracy
Continuismo
Corporate republic
Corporatocracy
Council–manager government
Counterintelligence state
Crowned republic
Cyberocracy

D

Defensive democracy
Democratic republic
Devolution
Diarchy
Dictablanda
Dictatorship
Dual system of government
Duchy

E

Electocracy
Emirate
Ergatocracy
Ethnarch
Ethnic democracy
Ethnocracy

F

Family dictatorship
Federacy
Federal monarchy
Free state (government)

G

Gatekeeper state
Geniocracy
Government
Government by itineration
Government of the Inca Empire
Grand duchy
Guided democracy

H

Hegemony
List of hereditary monarchies
Herrenvolk Democracy
Hierocracy
Holacracy
Hollow state

I

Ideocracy
Inclusive Management
Inverted totalitarianism
Islamic democracy
Islamic state
Isocracy

K

Khanate
Kleptocracy
Kratocracy
Kritarchy

L

Liberal democracy
Logocracy

M

Mafia state
Magocracy
Majlis
Matriarchy
Mayor–council government
Meritocracy
Monarchy
Multi-party system

N

Nanny state
Netocracy
New Republican Society
Night-watchman state
Non-partisan democracy
Noocracy

O

Ochlocracy

P

Panarchy
Pantarchy
Parliament
Parliamentary republic
Parliamentary system
Particracy
Patriarchy
Plantocracy
Plato’s five regimes
Plutocracy
Police state
Political institutions of ancient Rome
Political union
Polycracy
Presidential system
Prime ministerial government
Principality
Procedural democracy
Proprietary community
Puppet state

R

Rechtsstaat
Regional state
Republic
Right-wing dictatorship
Rule by decree
Rule of law
Rump state

S

Scientocracy
Sectarian democracy
Self-governance
Semi-authoritarian
Semi-presidential system
Single-party state
Socialist state
Sociocracy
Sole commissioner
Soviet democracy
Soviet republic (system of government)
State government
Stochocracy
Stratocracy
Sultanate
Sultanism
Superstate

T

Technocracy
Tetrarchy
Thalassocracy
Theocracy
Theodemocracy
Timocracy
Totalitarianism
Tribalism
Two-party system

U

Unitary state
Unrechtsstaat

V

Vetocracy
Videocracy

Z

Zemstvo

Does this mean that all these forms of government are failures?

Not in some instances!

Many work for the time, area and life that was available in the country they were used. In fact, two forms of government that democracy lovers despise and hate with venom & vengeance, are communism and dictatorships…

These two worthwhile examples of working and workable governments have their place in the world and because they have been successful to more than a few degrees. They are slandered at an unprecedented pace by democracy lovers. Obvious these two forms of government are a threat to democracy’s rule on the planet we call Earth. Why else is so much hate, time and money being used to degrade these two forms of government?

I know countries that need a dictator, I have traveled in these countries and they are better with a strong hand to guide the people. Without strength, they crumble into tribal warfare and chaos..

I know countries that succeed well on communism and if left alone would succeed very well, except for the constant pressured destruction of a capitalist, western and democracy based world. Not everyone wants or desires to be capitalist driven and that is one of the basics of the foundation of democracy. It may have not been in that foundation many years ago, but it is the driving factor of democracy now. Death is the number one driving factor of democracy in this day and age…

Why socialism has its place and we are not to say what is best for any country. For our ideas and our morals and our customs, may not be what is acceptable and desired in another part of the world…

It is simple to me: When we are killing people to spread our government, our feelings, our life style and our morals…

Then we are the worst of the worst governments that there is…

Have a nice day and please do some thinking about the world at hand…

Post by Kyle Keeton
Windows to Russia…

Every once in awhile I find someone or someones that make me smile. This video is one of many videos that are done by the JulianSmith.tv…

Gotta love it for I love coffee and I base many articles about sipping that cup of coffee…

Try it you may like it: “Don’t Drink That Racist Coffee!”

His coffee’s black
His coffee’s white
But we drink it both ways
Cause it’s alright

Some only drink it white
Some only drink it black
But we drink it both ways
So that we won’t get flack

We don’t drink – We don’t drink racist coffee
Don’t drink that – Don’t drink that racist coffee
I’m racist against that racist coffee
Neither one’s first – neither one’s a sequel
All drinks are created equal

This world’s humongous
So many coffee drinks among us
Like Cappuccinos, Macchiatos, my favorite Americanos
Who cares about your whereabouts
East or West, North or South
Just shut your mouth – now open it
You’ll enjoy it – we’re hoping at least

Hey white friend, try this
Hey that is pretty good
Hey black friend try this
Hey that is pretty good

Post by Kyle Keeton
Windows to Russia…

You could walk among the rides and still feel the energy of the kids running all around. Everyone wanting to ride the train as it chugged around and around. You could still feel the energy that gave it life at one time. That energy is waiting for someone to love it again…

I remember I turned to Sveta and said, “If I was a millionaire, I would buy this place and fix it up!”

Instead of buying it we had to settle for taking some pictures and then we walked away to let it decay!

I was sad that day!

Post by Kyle Keeton
Windows to Russia…

Who ever did the work was talented and we appreciate the art work. 🙂

I have noticed that many Russians are creative and use what ever is at hand to produce things of interest. Russians do not waste resources and in this case, these muffler guys, things, kids and gals, provide advertizement and recognition for the shop…

We took these in 2008 and I thought that bringing the post back to life would show you a little part of Russia. The part I see everyday while I roam the country…

Post by Kyle Keeton
Windows to Russia…

The propaganda is strong here. They don’t know when to quit. Do the owners / controllers of our media hate Russia? Or just want to keep us fearful / hateful all of the time?

Maybe both…

It wouldn’t be such a big deal if there were true opposing views in our media, but there aren’t. Not in any real sense anyway. On certain issues, the entire main media is united, pushing the same crap propaganda, by the thousands of articles…

Oh the links on Google are being destroyed over this image as you read this. Some have been set behind pay walls now and this is normal for western media and controversial issues, such as this image. Never fear I have the image on my server as I do with all images…

The image below is of a reading assignment for children, from an American news source. This was used in many more than one instance, for US kids to learn about and discuss the evils of Russia. As if this is a discussion that should be! What about the discussion on your own government and its corruption and bribery and evil?

These links below are some of thousands and thousands I have found. They all have to do with teaching about Evil Russia, Evil Putin and Evil non Human Rights in Russia. Oh and don’t forget we teach about Gays in schools also. The last link is a video in German and it is good to the point of being very sick propaganda… (It is part of a children’s network!)

Never fear though we have many wonderful teachers of anti-Russian evil in America, Canada, Germany and many other parts of the western world and that seems to be acceptable to all of you living in the west…

I guess the concept of getting your own house in order, before you point fingers, is a foreign concept to the West…

Have a nice day and the Sochi Winter 2014 Olympics are great..

Post by Kyle Keeton
Windows to Russia…

So I will give you a good reason why Russia could have cared less if America even showed up in the first place, besides that there is the fact that 95% of the world is pointing fingers at America, France, Britain and Canada for being crap-heads in the media about the Olympics in Sochi…

Three Billion (3,000,000,000 or 3 billion) humans watched the Opening ceremonies in Sochi Russia for the 2014 Winter Olympics. I will put it in simple terms for all the Americans that have sent me hate mail. Plus for the future hate mail senders…

31.7 million viewers in the United States watched the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics opening ceremony on Friday night, which was aired hours after the fact, NBC has said…

That is in millions of people, not billions from America. You are the tiny group (as in small and even after it happened) watching the Olympics…

The worldwide audience of the bombastic opening ceremony of the 2014 Sochi Olympics on Friday stood at 3 billion, organizers said in a statement. This is while a packed house of 40,000 were inside the stadium and that many plus standing outside the stadium…

That means if America decided to not show up and watch TV. (Even all the Canada, Britain and France viewers added in would make no difference!) The world would never have known. The best thing to have happened would be for Americans, Canadians, British and a few others to have followed Obama’s lead and stayed home. You would have looked like spoiled kids, but there would have been a lot less pissing in the wind…

There were at least 55 presidents/prime ministers from many countries that came in person and that proves that many countries have very strong feelings about Russia and her actions in the world. They also knew Russia would provide the security that would be necessary…

Why did Obama not show? (Nuff said! We sent the Gay Brigade and yes McFaul happened to be there for his last duty as a Russian Ambassador!)

So America, Canada, France and Britain; Take your…

1. Exploding toothpaste bombs
2. Two toilets/toilet paper in one room games
3. Breaking door jams
4. Saying that the Olympics were in a “war Zone”
5. Showing an exploding car bomb, implying this would happen to anyone going to Russia.
6. Bees in honey.
7. Yellow water.
8. Tearing rooms up for photo sessions.
9. Pillow antics.
10. Media whores and a million more lies…

And stick it where the sun does not shine…

Because if all of you never showed up, the Sochi Olympics had 3,000,000,000 more to take your place…

Post by Kyle Keeton
Windows to Russia…

P.S. – The world does not revolve around the west…

Russia’s western enclave of Kaliningrad embraced its medieval era roots by celebrating what is called “Long Sausage Day,” this past Saturday. The sausage, made according to an old secrete Prussian recipe, was 3 meters long and 30 centimeters thick…

Kaliningrad has reinstated the Long Sausage Day last year, after a 400-year-long break. It first celebrated this special holiday in 1520, when it was still known as Königsberg and was still a part of Germany…

The story goes: The local butcher’s paraded a 16-meter-long sausage through the streets in 1520. This created a desire to outdo each other every year in this small village and the whole sausage making sport peaked in 1601 with a sausage about 39 meters long and weighing 260 kilograms…

Beer consumption as with any wonderful German based event was known to reach 40 tons of delicious liquid. That is in a small village mind you…

The holiday now takes place in the Museum of World Ocean in Kaliningrad, located on the site of a 17th-century fortress destroyed in World War II. The city was annexed by the Soviet Union and renamed following World War II…

Post by Kyle Keeton
Windows to Russia…