Livejournal’s blogging software might not be that good as far as I am concerned, but they still have some of the best communities ever. Take, for instance, found_objects”>. It’s a community dedicated to pictures of interesting random crap, very much in the style of Found magazine. Of course, many livejournalers are not familiar with the concepts of “interesting”, “resizing pictures” and “editorial selection”, but overall besides the huge blurry pictures of absolutely uninteresting stuff (what, the community is called “found objects”, I found this) there’s much, much outstanding stuff. Here’s my selection for your lesurely browsing:
Oooof. Finally fixed a rather nasty bug that was depressing me most of last week. This and a nice little poem by
There was no subway in Odessa, but we had buses, trolley buses and trams. Poorly printed pieces of bad quality paper served as tickets. The system was somewhat interesting: the driver wouldn’t check the tickets. You had to board with your own ticket and perforate it in a weird looking wall mounted press inside. If during a spot check you didn’t have a perforated ticket, you’d theoretically be fined. In reality everybody except the few unlucky loosers would perforate their ticket in the nick of time.
So, back to superstitions and luck bringing rituals. Every ticket had a serial number. A lucky ticket was considered to be one, in which the sum of the first three numbers of the serial would be equal to the sum of the last there. If you found a lucky ticket, to gain some good luck, germ or no germs, you had to eat it. Here’s what one (actually this is an even more special palindromic lucky ticket.) would like:
(image from http://iagsoft.nm.ru/ticket/chel2001.jpg)
Then there was the “Chicken God”. That was a name for a beach pebble with a hole in it. The hole was supposed to be of a natural origin. A chicken god could be worn on a necklace. To wish on it, you would look through the hole at the sun (getting half blind in the process) and speak your wish.
(picture from http://www.thegodsgrove.com)
Oh, and the black Volga. In the Soviet Union a black Volga GAZ 24 was a car of choice for various party functionaries and other important people. A kid who’d spot one would usually mutter a little rhyme “black Volga my luck, which nobody can pluck” (“Ñ‡ÐµÑ€Ð½Ð°Ñ? Ð’Ð¾Ð»Ð³Ð°, Ð¼Ð¾Ñ? ÑƒÐ´Ð°Ñ‡Ð°, Ð½Ð¸ÐºÐ¾Ð¼Ñƒ Ð½Ðµ Ð¿ÐµÑ€ÐµÐ´Ð°Ñ‡Ð°”). Hey, I am no poet.
(image from http://autonavigator.ru/autocatalog/gaz/24-10.shtml)