Ни о какой безапелляционности в моих высказываниях не может быть и речи!

"Оргия в Норвежском Лесу".

Из статьи о художнике (точнее, со страницы обсуждений) можно узнать что норвежское слово pesta означает чуму. Символичненько. ;)

Превед человег!

Ivan buys a shotgun and goes hunting. While he’s out in the woods, he spots a magnificent brown bear, at least two meters tall. He takes aim and shoots.
    BLAM! The bear drops to the ground. Ivan runs over to where the bear fell… no bear. Someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns around, and it’s the bear.
    The bear snarls, “Did you just shoot at me?”
    “Uhhh, yeah.”
    “Alright, now you gotta blow me.”
    What can Ivan do? It’s suck bear cock or be ripped apart and devoured. So, he holds his breath and blows the bear. He licks and sucks for what feels like hours. At last, the bear grunts, spooges all over Ivan’s face, taps him on the shoulder appreciatively, and ambles away contented.
    The next week, Ivan goes to the black market, buys a Kalashnikov assault rifle, and goes hunting again. Soon he comes across enormous bear tracks. He follows them for a couple of hours till he comes across the same brobdingnagian bear. He switches the selector to full auto, takes careful aim, and pulls the trigger.
    RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!!! The bear drops. Ivan dashes toward the bear… no bear. There’s another tap on his shoulder. It’s the bear come up behind him.
    “Did you just fire a machine gun at me?”
    “Uhhh, yeah.”
    “Alright, now I’m going to fuck you in the ass!”
    What can Ivan do? It’s take bear cock up the ass or be ripped apart and devoured. So he bends over and takes it like a man. The bear diddles him for what feels like hours. At long last, he grunts, spooges all over Ivan’s backside, taps him on the shoulder appreciatively, and ambles away contented.
    Now, Ivan is really mad. The next week, he travels to an obscure ex-Soviet republic and buys himself a shoulder-mounted SAM-20 missile. He’s going to kill that infamous bear once and for all, no matter what it takes. He returns to the woods and tracks the bear. He aims the missile and launches it at the ursine degenerate.
    BOOOOOOOM!!! The bear drops. Ivan sprints towards him… no bear. A tap on his shoulder. Yep, it’s the bear.
    The bear sticks his paw in his mouth and blows a shrill whistle. At once, four other bears converge upon the hapless hunter. They pant and grunt as they amble towards him. Their beady eyes radiate with a lewd glare. Their monstrous leader stares at Ivan and drawls, “You didn’t really come here to hunt, did you?”

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Охотники на привале утром в сосновом бору.