Was about to change Vanos seals and bearings today. All of my parts and tools needed for the job are here and ready to go. I opened the hood and I closed the hood. 

Been working out, you know, not fanatically, whenever I have time or not too lazy. One thing really showed results is kettlebell. Not results in a bodybuilding senses. Results do show and are more noticeable than if I would use dumbbells. And my lower back does not hurt as much. Doing swings I guess. So yea, picked up this 35lb and just got moving.

I swear, this is upsetting. Why? let me explain. Back in a day, when you wanted to play a game on PC, shit, any game will do. You get a CD or you download the game and that's it, you are ready to play. Old PC no problem.

And now. Downloaded a game Diablo II Resurrected Infernal Edition

And guess what? My computer is not to specs… It's one year old computer. Frustrating that in order to play games on PC now days you have to spend $$$ on upgrades(memory cards, graphic cards, rams and shit).

In reality, you want to play game? Go buy a GAMING PC. 

When we were coming up in the 2000s, you’d see these people on screen — celebrities, massive stars, household names -  pulling in millions. You figured they were set for life. They had the mansions, the entourage, the ridiculous excess, planes and you honestly thought they were untouchable.

Then you hit 2026 and see them popping up in some soul-crushing, 30-second spot for a predatory payday lender or some bottom-tier, fly-by-night company that you know is a scam. Or a dumb ass casino app. It’s impossible not to look at that and think, «Damn, they actually hit rock bottom.» They burned through every cent of that fortune, and now they’re hawking garbage just to keep the lights on. It’s not just a career shift; it’s a humiliating, pathetic freefall from grace. The «extras» used to be the ones you didn't notice, but seeing a former icon reduced to a commercial shill for the cheapest companies on Earth? That’s the real tragedy.

Holy fuck — you hop on social media, read the comments under certain posts, and just stand there absolutely dumbfounded.

Rice and chicken for dinner? That’s just slop. A 60-square-meter apartment? A pigs shed — and the decor isn't «Instagrammable» enough. A 2020 car? An ancient, fart-stained clunker. A one-and-a-half-year-old who pronounces every letter perfectly and recites poetry with expression? Yeah, well, *my* kid practically crawled right out of the womb and immediately started quoting *Das Kapital*.

On the internet, everyone lives in the Palace of Versailles; they’re all gourmet chefs, geniuses, and billionaires.

But step out onto the street, and half the people look like they’ve washed their faces in piss — total victims of urine therapy.

Sergeant Major Maxwell “Ace” Archer was precision; a perfect sniper. Every element of his existence, was perfectly ordered. His schedule was a clockwork masterpiece, his accuracy unmatched, and his focus a laser beam. He was the embodiment of the ideal sniper: disciplined, efficient, and relentlessly, terrifyingly, on time. 

Living he's quiet life out in the woods, peaceful expensive house  with anything a human been needs to live a perfect life. With offshore bank account. 

Than as it usually end up happening is he meets a woman, whether its random or through the job he had to do. Falls in love, mad love. A missed shot, a careless mistake in planning, because all of his attention is on the woman, has caused a chaos. Reputation is ruined.

Circumstances of that, he loses the job that he worked so hard for and building trust and perfect job score. 

Him and his woman had to live that life behind to start a family, while killing all the people that was after him for not completing a job. It was a mess, but he did it. He did it for the love of his life and a new chapter they can begin building together. No more secrets and everything is shared. Working a steady construction job with bank account that had enough money to last for ever.

Few months pass and his woman cheats on him with explanation — «You are not the same tough guy I fell in love with and your hands are softer». Than she emptied his bank account, because she's an independent woman and needs to explore her sexuality in Dubai.

He developed a drinking problem and died on the street...

The end.

©Mad

I thought I was solid, but I got tripped up by a 20-year-old and a translation app.

I was 38, working a hi-lo. She was a 10—a 15 out of ten on a scale if you ask me. She found out I was Russian and used Google or Yahoo Translate to text me «Privet, kak dela?» every morning. She’d spend her breaks in my car and send nudes I didn't ask for. She put in the work to get in my head, and I fell for it. I did, big time.

To be honest, I got confused. Should I stay cold? What if she actually does feel something? Should I do this, should I do that? I developed feelings, and it messed things up.

I didn't know how to handle it. I started drinking because I had no idea how to control those feelings without alcohol. I never had. I was always wasted when it comes to women. I got confused, and I eventually quit the job just to get out of there because I couldn't function without thinking about her. When I reached out later, she was cold. She called me a loser and needy.

I still have the photos. I haven't shown them to anyone because I told her I wouldn't. Maybe it's a highlight of my life.

I’m 39 now, but I still feel 18 inside. We’re all just kids dealing with things, trying to navigate a world that feels more complicated every day. I miss the old-school way of doing things.

I remember being 19 and not working, just chilling. I went down to my dad’s job to visit him, and his boss was standing outside with a cigar and his old-school Chevy Corvette. There was no HR back then—just a payroll lady who didn't have a say in anything but your paycheck.

The boss just looked at me and asked what I was doing.

I said, «Nothing.»

He said: «Come back tomorrow, I'll put your ass to work.»

That was it. No long talk, no poetic moment. Just a grown man talking straight to a teenager. No one complained, no HR was called, and no one was offended. I showed up, and I worked.

Simpler times.