- Ven Jan 30, 2015 1:25 pm
#163891
Le Babuhska Club (équivalent du Spike Club, russe, et féminin), qui enseigne aux filles à être des chercheuses d'or.
[url]http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2014/11/11/russia-s-gold-digger-academy.html[/url]
Morceaux choisis :
[quote]“Business theory teaches us one important lesson,” says the instructress. “Always thoroughly research the desires of the consumer. Apply this principle when you search for a rich man. On a first date there’s one key rule: never talk about yourself. Listen to him. Find him fascinating. Find out his desires. Study his hobbies; then change yourself accordingly.”
[quote]Oliona lives in a small, sparkly new apartment with her nervous little dog. The apartment is on one of the main roads that leads to billionaire’s row, Rublevka. Rich men put their mistresses there so they can nip in and visit them on the way home. She first came to Moscow from Donbas
[quote]Now she earns the basic Moscow mistress rate: the apartment, $4,000 a month, a car, and a weeklong holi- day in Turkey or Egypt twice a year. In return the sugar daddy gets her supple and tanned body any time he wants, day or night, always rainbow happy, always ready to perform.
[quote]“Today we will learn the algorithm for receiving presents,” the instructor tells her students. “When you desire a present from a man, place yourself at his left, irrational, emotional side. His right is his rational side: you stand to his right if you’re discussing business projects. But if you desire a present, position yourself by his left. If he is sitting in a chair crouch down, so he feels taller, like you’re a child. Squeeze your vaginal muscles. Yes, your vaginal muscles. This will make your pupils dilate, making you more attractive. When he says something, nod; this nodding will induce him to agree with you. And finally, when you ask for your car, your dress, whatever it is you want, stroke his hand. Gently. Now repeat: Look! Nod! Stroke!”
The girls chant back in unison: “Look. Nod. Stroke… Look, Nod, Stroke.”
[quote]“I don’t understand the whole thing of working 24—7 in some office. It’s humiliating having to work like that. A man is a lift to the top, and I intend to take it.”
[quote]“There are three types of men,” she tells her students. “The creatives. The analysts. We’re not interested in those. The ones we want are ‘the possessors’,” and she repeats the tell-all, prison-intimating phrase, “a man behind whom you feel like behind a wall of stone. We all know how to spot them. The strong, silent men. They wear dark suits. They have deep voices. They mean what they say. These men are interested in control. They don’t want a forceful woman. They have enough of that already. They want a girl who’ll be a pretty flower.”
[quote]“My first boyfriend. Back home in Donbas. That was love. He was a local authority.”
Authority is a nice word for gangster.
[url]http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2014/11/11/russia-s-gold-digger-academy.html[/url]
Morceaux choisis :
[quote]“Business theory teaches us one important lesson,” says the instructress. “Always thoroughly research the desires of the consumer. Apply this principle when you search for a rich man. On a first date there’s one key rule: never talk about yourself. Listen to him. Find him fascinating. Find out his desires. Study his hobbies; then change yourself accordingly.”
[quote]Oliona lives in a small, sparkly new apartment with her nervous little dog. The apartment is on one of the main roads that leads to billionaire’s row, Rublevka. Rich men put their mistresses there so they can nip in and visit them on the way home. She first came to Moscow from Donbas
[quote]Now she earns the basic Moscow mistress rate: the apartment, $4,000 a month, a car, and a weeklong holi- day in Turkey or Egypt twice a year. In return the sugar daddy gets her supple and tanned body any time he wants, day or night, always rainbow happy, always ready to perform.
[quote]“Today we will learn the algorithm for receiving presents,” the instructor tells her students. “When you desire a present from a man, place yourself at his left, irrational, emotional side. His right is his rational side: you stand to his right if you’re discussing business projects. But if you desire a present, position yourself by his left. If he is sitting in a chair crouch down, so he feels taller, like you’re a child. Squeeze your vaginal muscles. Yes, your vaginal muscles. This will make your pupils dilate, making you more attractive. When he says something, nod; this nodding will induce him to agree with you. And finally, when you ask for your car, your dress, whatever it is you want, stroke his hand. Gently. Now repeat: Look! Nod! Stroke!”
The girls chant back in unison: “Look. Nod. Stroke… Look, Nod, Stroke.”
[quote]“I don’t understand the whole thing of working 24—7 in some office. It’s humiliating having to work like that. A man is a lift to the top, and I intend to take it.”
[quote]“There are three types of men,” she tells her students. “The creatives. The analysts. We’re not interested in those. The ones we want are ‘the possessors’,” and she repeats the tell-all, prison-intimating phrase, “a man behind whom you feel like behind a wall of stone. We all know how to spot them. The strong, silent men. They wear dark suits. They have deep voices. They mean what they say. These men are interested in control. They don’t want a forceful woman. They have enough of that already. They want a girl who’ll be a pretty flower.”
[quote]“My first boyfriend. Back home in Donbas. That was love. He was a local authority.”
Authority is a nice word for gangster.
« Quelle malédiction a frappé l’Occident pour qu’au terme de son essor il ne produise que ces hommes d’affaires, ces épiciers, ces combinards aux regards nuls et aux sourires atrophiés, que l’on rencontre partout, en Italie comme en France, en Angleterre de même qu’en Allemagne ? Est-ce à ces dégénérés que devait aboutir une civilisation aussi délicate, aussi complexe ? Peut-être fallait-il en passer par là, par l’abjection, pour pouvoir imaginer un autre genre d’hommes. »
E. Cioran
E. Cioran
