Legally Allowed to Kill a Kitty

Liza Minelli’s Nipples, Anatoly Kashpirovsky and what you most likely not seeing while watching a cat video.

Oh yeah, my darlings, today Plastikoff is going to be quite political, quite politically [in]correct, I should correct.

I started writing about Liza’s nipples at the Oscars and… while dissecting the size of the above mentioned nipa-pips a video fell into my view. I realized that there is something I want to tell you about the video I watched. I decided to cut the bitch and go for it.

Now how do you go from Liza Minnelli’s nipples at the Oscars, to Anatoly Kashpirovsky’s hypnotic seances in Soviet Union, to Afghan/Iraq war, how?

Of course Plastikoff could show you how clever he is by using something clever in his writings, you know like, telling you how you could drink orange juice and eat an orange at the same time? And nipples. Nipples are always good to talk about. They heal the masses. But Plastikoff is saying no to Liza’s nipples. He is better than that. He is just going to tell you stories, true stories, I should add.

Where and when Plastikoff was growing up there was this “Diadia (Uncle) Hypnotizer” coming on TV, I believe every Tuesday around eight o’clock in the evening. Plastikoff was still a teenager then and couldn’t quite understand why his family was watching this man talk on TV. It was not a funny talk show, no, and it was not a president talking either, but that “Diadia” was somebody who could make you happy. Yes, literally, happy just by talking to you from your TV screen. People around the Soviet Union watched religiously the guy on their TV sets while going into some kind of faints or trances similar to these.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwXma6uaQvA

Well, you should be aware that at that time churches and preachers were a no-no anywhere in Soviet Union. These were the Soviet Times. Something still needed to be invented for the people to believe in. “Diadia Kashpirovsky” gave the crowds the needed opium – the happiness which was running out as fast as that water from that sea that disappeared in Kazakhstan. To become happy, you, of course, had to watch “Diadia Kashpirovsky” on TV religiously.

This whole thing was ridiculous and ended, I believe, very scandalously, because, people were falling out of their chairs, sofas and whatever things they were sitting on. There were some traumas, but not the ones you get by falling from a chair, no. As you probably guessed, money had to do something with these falls. A crook will always be a crook. How could we recognize somebody like that “Diadia?” That is another question? Well you are in good hands, my darlings. You have Plastikoff himself. He saw this video, so he knows what he is talking about (smiley face).

Should I include a few links at the end of this entry for you to send me money now? Or should I learn how to speak as the above mentioned hypno-teaser?

Okay, my darlings, since you have checked if I had inserted those above mentioned links at the end of my entry and found that there are none of them there, shall we start watching some other videos now and talk about them? I think we should.

How my mind was able to get away from Liza Minnelli’s boobs I was writing about, I have no idea, but it did. Here is a video which inspired today’s entry. I am pretty sure you are going to need some tissues, because I needed them. No, I truly did.

Ohio 8-year old turns $20 into priceless gift

Alright my darlings, I don’t need to tell you what you saw in the video, or do I?

Well okay, for those who didn’t watch the video yet, you saw a soldier who got $20 dollars from a kid who lost his father in Iraq war when he was still a baby. The kid’s action and note inspired the soldier. The note truly touched the soldier and, as he said, this experience will stay with him for the rest of his life.

Stories like that are gold mines for media moguls who want to manipulate you and get your money. Yes, that’s right, even that little kitty you see on TV or your computer screen has something to do with the money. And this is how.

Ugh, I can feel some interesting energy coming my way, but before I dissect this particular video, let me tell you another, also a true, story.

I dated somebody who went to war in Afghanistan in the late 80’s. Yes, that’s right, I still cannot understand how, after the Soviet Union’s fiasco in Afghanistan, Americans, a decade later, went there too. I am pretty sure there are American soldiers who could tell similar stories to the one I am just about to tell you.

Well it is not a secret that to survive an Afghan war you need to drug yourself somehow. No wonder Afghanistan has the biggest poppy fields in the world. They need to provide all that opium to all those poor soldiers who come to fight them on their land.

Alright so, the army base, where my dear friend was fighting, was close to a little Afghani town. That was the town where our dear soldiers went to get their drugs and things of that nature. The town people knew all the soldiers as well as Soviet soldiers knew the town people. They all were living happily just with one little detail attached to their relationship, some of them were occupying somebody else’s land and were trying to put their rules on existing ones. Well, who pays attention to these little details anyway? Whoever holds the gun is the boss with the rules, isn’t that true?

It happened so that the soldiers ran out of whatever they were smoking, so it was time for somebody to go to the town and get the needed sugar for their dreams. My love interest volunteered to go to the town and get the dope, even though it was not his turn to do so. Nobody wanted to schlep the distance, so volunteering was happily accepted…

Well let me cut the story to the chase. My lover came back and found all of his friends decapitated? He was the only one who survived this massacre. Who did the decapitations, anybody’s guess. Thankfully he had all that dope on him.

Now you would say, oh those bad bad Arabs or whatever you call the people who kill your soldiers, sons and daughters, nowadays in Middle East. Well, yeah if you are a soldier you kill people and you are ready to be killed, isn’t it so?

But let me go back to the video which really made me cry my eyes out, it truly did. The innocence and the story of the child were heartbreaking. The only thing this kid knew was that his father was a soldier who fought in a war and was killed, so now when he sees a soldier he is reminded about his father who is no longer with him.

Would you like to play a little game now?

Let’s say that Afghanistan is the United States of America and America is now Afghanistan. Would you react the same way watching the same video if, instead of an American child, there would be an Afghani kid giving the money to Afghani soldier? You probably need some time to get this picture into your head. Should I put some kitty video for you while you do that?

I don’t believe you would react the same way you did while watching the described video. Right now you only know what media wants you to know. Can you see a human being killing another human being while you watch the video?

Oh, it is hard to write this and be “funny” at the same time, but I shall continue.

Every human being is a human being and every killing is a killing. When somebody talks about a war I hear somebody talk about a legalized killing. This video above becomes even harder for me to watch because that soldier is legally allowed to kill and I just hope he hasn’t had that “chance” to do so.

So now, what are you trying to say here, you’d ask me? Are you trying to deface American soldiers? Ha, did you really ask this question?

This is what I see in most army recruit and similar videos.

There is somebody rich who needs to become richer. The rich sees the opportunity to become richer in some foreign country. The country is not stable enough, so they need us to believe that the people there need our help. The rich need to recruit soldiers who would unknowingly fight for what they want. Knowing how people react at sad stories they just need to release a video like this and most of the job is done. Everybody sees a kid who lost his father. We need other soldiers to fight for that kid. So somebody gets killed and no questions are asked. The war is “the protection” from the foreign… somebody is still getting richer.

Plastikoff is too upset to continue with this right now… Discuss…

A Spoonful of Sugar or My Four Dollar Story

We all need some sugar in our lives, but sometimes we have no money to buy at least a few spoons of it. This entry is about times when we find ourselves in a dark place.

I have no fucking idea how to write about this topic and my temperamental “t” is still stuck on my keyboard as if saying: “I got your “t” so where is your sugar?” Ha ha, it would be funny if it would be funny, but…

I am here to tell you a story. I was debating if I should write about my dark times, but Plastikoff would not be Plastikoff if he would not use the drama in his life for a good cause.

Yes, my darlings, yours truly Plastikoff was quite in a ditch last week. The feeling of uncertainty lasted way too long. I got fed up with all this bitterness. I needed some sugar in my life.

I am not really sure what was the main reason why I was feeling the way I was feeling. It could be that my extensive drinking had something to do with it, or it could be that I made some stupid mistakes while being under the influence and was not thinking about the consequences I would face the next day (who wants to think about consequences when they are having fun anyway, who?). But it happened so that I found myself not only financially but also emotionally broke.

This is not an entry for people who are looking for somebody to tell them how to behave or what to do when depression strikes, no, and believe me, I am the last one who calls depression “depression,” but it happened so that the darling one hit me in my balls, or at least I thought that these were my balls (smiley face). Suddenly everything went dark, or maybe that was the bulb of my table lamp that got busted, I don’t know, I can’t tell it now. It’s eight o’clock in the morning when I write these words. I am drinking coffee. Ha, that’s right, yours truly is not drinking Port at this hour, but is enjoying the bitter taste of black beverage which makes my fingers type as fast as I can and my ass run to the bathroom every five minutes. And where is all this water coming from? But back to the topic.

Darlings, to speak about depression is quite depressing (I can’t find a better word for it) so I am just going to tell you what made my dim table lamp turn into a bright winter’s sun in a flick.

That’s right, my darlings, I might have accepted for myself that being involved with anything arts is a waste of time and that I might never get anywhere close to be rich to afford to buy a house with a garden, I might. Well, that’s what some people might want me to think and I think that got me last week. Yes, I might be a walking cliché, a starvin’ Marvin O’Farts, but there is always a reason why I am here and why some things happen to us.

I want to make sure you understand that I might be joking about things like depression or suicide, but those things are not funny. The way I deal with topics like that is my way of communicating my feelings to myself. I don’t think that there are many of you who want to read about people I knew who ended their lives before their time? I don’t think there are, because… well there is no “because.” It is what it is, but there is always something that each of us need to figure out for ourselves to be able to continue with living.

I realize that this entry is not as funny as I wanted it to sound, well, hello, the subject, what do I expect?

Last week I found myself not to be able to afford living. I am pretty sure you had one of those days too. I would think that being without money should not scare me much since I grew up during the biggest economical depression in post Soviet times. We had to learn how to survive on a few pounds of sugar per month which you could only buy if you had a special piece of whatever paper indicating that you are a human. You’d say, well this is not a big deal, who needs pounds of sugar per month for their tea anyway?

Having enough sugar is a big deal when you have a garden bursting out with all this harvest as we had in my family. Yeah, it was quiet depressing to hear my mom say that we cannot afford to make preserves from our garden full of fruits and berries, because there is not enough sugar for that.

Thankfully that time has passed. We knew what starvation was. We read books about the Leningrad (Saint Petersburg now) blockade during the WWII. A little deficiency of sugar didn’t let us down, but tough us how to deal with situations like that.

Last week my phone got disconnected because I had no money to pay for services. I was behind my rent and with two carrots in my fridge. I found myself completely shut from the external world. I was not even sure if I had enough money on my Metro card to go to a possible work which I could miss because of my phone. I had twenty one dollars in my wallet and four dollars and forty nine cents in my bank account. They were not enough to cover my forty dollars phone bill.

First of all I was not able to get those four dollars and whatever cents from my bank account because it had to be a least twenty dollars available to do the transaction. My fear got my heart going and my balls dropped and got trapped somewhere in between my knees and a hole in my long johns. It seemed that there was no way for me to do anything about the situation. Even though everything looked dark on a bright winter’s day I knew that there should be a way to get out of this situation (maybe I just needed to buy a new bulb for my table lamp, maybe?). 

After a long discussion with myself I decided that I needed to pass by the place where I pay for my phone. I went inside thinking maybe I could somehow ask them for a credit of some sorts, I don’t know, something. I looked at the table inside of the store and saw an offer which made all the difference in the world. The offer said that I could get my phone back for twenty five dollars. Boom, I received a message from whoever is manipulating our lives that everything is going to be okay, but, there was one “but,” I was still missing those four dollars that were frozen in my bank account. I needed to get somehow those four dollars out of my bank before they charge ten dollars for holding those four dollars for me.

This is what happened next: I went to the bank, deposited sixteen dollars and took a twenty out. Boom, I had a nice twenty five dollars in my wallet and forty nine cents in my bank. My mood jumped and I was back.

So my dear darlings I wanted to share this with you, because we all need to figure out for yourselves how to get those four dollars from our accounts, be it for a bus ticket or some sugar to bake some cookies. The challenge is always there and it always has a purpose. Share your four dollar stories here. I want to hear how you got back from your dark place and how you have managed to retrieve those four dollars for your future.