The attempt on the holy
The road to work on traffic jams resembles a walk along the hospital corridor: cancer, the kidneys, congenital pathology, cerebral palsy, ugliness refused. Sick children. Parents ask me, everyone who listens, save, give money.
There is no sense in switching, you need to listen to how music. Like a terrible song. All worthy — both Kommersant FM, and Radio Classic, and Echo of Moscow — broadcast a mournful choir from adults and children’s votes: no one needs us, one hope for you. So you see these small, sick, defenseless, with huge eyes and dimples on the cheeks.
I wonder if parents raised money this morning? Specifically today? Or, as they say, we live on?
Facebook is postponing and reposing. Now these children and these mothers can look into the eyes. View, read, feel contact. Maybe this can be leaned? Go to the forum, talk to ideas and opinions? After all, we are not the saviors of children, someone pulled us into someone else’s drama? Yes?
Not only Facebook, but also a good dozen sites in which I lower my eyes, nobly pokes me in this terrible evidence: give me money or death. Thank you. Thanks for the dead end, from which there is no way out: it is impossible not to give everyone, but it is impossible to give everyone too. And how to choose, to whom to give? Throw a coin? If you want to have to choose in the choice? Here are today’s links. I liked it? Better, say, help someone than no one? Cunningly. Noble compromise, at the cost of the life of those who did not have enough.
In order to draw the people living in the last money into this shabash obscene for the oil power, the TV offers to send SMS with the word “good” and 300 rubles will go to a sick child. National lottery for a place in paradise. No, I don’t mind. So can be collected for the restoration of castles or replenishment of the collection of picture galleries. Sea cats can be saved. Children in Africa would also come up — these are not our children, we will help them than we can. But for their own! In a country where money is ashamed to say what?
The state is not me. I can never make it enough for everyone. And it should, they must, and they must be made. Sorry.
