A young woman comes to the doctor covered in bruises.

Doctor:

— Lord, how did this happen to you?

— You see, doctor, every time my husband comes home drunk, he beats me with his hands and feet, until I fall.

«Don't worry, I have a cure for that. Next time your husband comes home drunk, keep some chamomile tea handy and start gargling with it as soon as he enters the apartment.»

A couple of weeks later, the woman returns to the doctor, looking happy and without a single bruise:

«Doctor, you're a miracle worker! When my husband comes home drunk, I gargle with chamomile tea, and nothing happens—he doesn't even touch me!»

Doctor (instructively):

— You see how sometimes it helps to just shut the fuck up!

I have a friend whose arms and legs are covered in tattoos. He's been systematically removing them for three months now, sparing no expense and willing to endure further pain just to get rid of them. The thing is, six months ago, he was in an accident and was officially dead for 40 seconds until doctors restarted his heart. While he was unconscious, he actually saw a stairway to heaven, climbed it, but at the very gates, «over-muscled angels» stopped him and beat the shit out of him for his bad tattoos.

It always bothered me, this censoring bullshit. Especially movies and TV shows censoring cigarette smoking. Drinking alcohol? It's okay. Gambling? It's okay. But smoking is a no-no.

Advertisements are another stupidity. Not a single tobacco commercial. But alcohol and gambling? No problem. Go on, get yourself some liver damage and drink yourself to death—lose your driver's license, wreck your relationships, and watch the bottle dismantle your entire life. Every five minutes there's a gambling advert: gamble your life savings away, become a broke-ass, ruin your family, get divorced, get depressed, jump from a bridge, rob a bank cause you need money for food, end up in jail cause you have no money to pay for child support.

But god forbid you see a cigarette on the screen.

I don't want books written by AI, I want books written by Russian alcoholic novelists on the verge of a nervous breakdown due to depression, that's how God wanted it.