And this is why you can’t have nice things.
Good god, man . . . Get a girlfriend, a hobby, a dog – anything?! Where are your friends and family, and why do they hate you enough to not break the world down to Barney-math for you?
Setting your balls on fire, only makes you ballless; and what is the win there? Discount sex change? Although, with an anatomy book, and if you got the balls for it. I bet you could get away with nailing your scrotum into Red Square. You’re going to need to be looking at a serious PSI charged air hammer that works off of compressed air cans.
Brah, you cannot be aiming to go manual hammer to nail on a layer of cobblestone, which rests on top of steel reinforced concrete. If you are . . . Man, I suppose this is adventure Darwinism.
Everyone knows the FSB is off the chain. All this brazen act of stupidity is going to give a moment to you, and not the world. In the near future you’ll look back on this, and say, “Damn, what was I thinking on that one?” I mean clearly, I hope your friends told you that you can’t get laid after you set your junk on fire . . . – Buck.
Russia’s bravest performance artist, best known for nailing his scrotum to Red Square and setting fire to the door of the secret police headquarters, says he thinks Russians are “terrorized by the monstrous phantom of the security services, by arrests, and by prison terms.”
His “acts of art,” as Petr Pavlensky calls them, clearly are acts of defiance, and he expects to pay a price for them, he told The Daily Beast after his release from seven months in prison.
On the November night last year when the 32-year-old artist poured gasoline onto the door of the FSB security service headquarters on Lubyanka Square, a place Russians feared for generations as the dread home of the KGB, he knew perfectly well that the punishment could be anything from 15 days to several years behind bars in a penitentiary system where prisoners often are beaten and tortured, and sometimes die unaccountable deaths.
Police grabbed Pavlensky while the Lubyanka door was still on fire. For seven months he traveled through multiple corridors, cells, police vehicles, courtrooms and psychiatric wards, where he talked with prisoners, young drug users, murderers, businessmen, and former officials.