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Лучший друг бетонщика
Any of you who have expressed the slightest interest in Russian around me have heard about the Concrete Workers' Song. Back at That Other Institution, I once cataloged a Russian textbook that may well qualify as the first humourous language-learning work I'd ever seen. (I've since experienced the out-and-out silliness of Heini Gruffydd's Welcome to Welsh, among other works, but at the time this was something quite novel.) And I don't mean English as she is spoke inadvertent hilarity either but genuine deliberate funniness.
I didn't have time to read through it all, but one chapter stuck in my head: The visit to the concrete factory. You young whippersnappers with no memory of Russia before the words "glasnost" and "perestroika" were household words can't imagine what it was like to visit the USSR in the bad old days. It was impossible to see anything without going on a closely-supervised guided tour which inevitably featured such glories of the proletariat paradise as gargantuan war memorials, hydroelectric projects--or concrete factories. (Just say the word "Dagestan" within earshot of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
owenthomas and watch his face become a rictus of horror as his traumatic experiences come flooding back.) The happy workers at this concrete factory greet their guests with a song about the beauties of concrete; they envision a perfect world in which everything--even the birds and trees--are made out of concrete.
What didn't stick in my mind, however, was the author, publisher, or--indeed--any identifying bibliographic information whatsoever. I'd long ago resigned myself to the fact that I'd never see it again. But not only did I, I discovered it's available online! Yeah, the images are barely-legible gifs from a crappy scanner. BUT THEY'RE THERE. Major kudos toekeme_ndiba for locating this based on nothing more than a passing mention of the Concrete Worker's Song. I don't know how to repay him except possibly by learning to sing it and sending him a youtube video of my performance.
I didn't have time to read through it all, but one chapter stuck in my head: The visit to the concrete factory. You young whippersnappers with no memory of Russia before the words "glasnost" and "perestroika" were household words can't imagine what it was like to visit the USSR in the bad old days. It was impossible to see anything without going on a closely-supervised guided tour which inevitably featured such glories of the proletariat paradise as gargantuan war memorials, hydroelectric projects--or concrete factories. (Just say the word "Dagestan" within earshot of
owenthomas and watch his face become a rictus of horror as his traumatic experiences come flooding back.) The happy workers at this concrete factory greet their guests with a song about the beauties of concrete; they envision a perfect world in which everything--even the birds and trees--are made out of concrete.What didn't stick in my mind, however, was the author, publisher, or--indeed--any identifying bibliographic information whatsoever. I'd long ago resigned myself to the fact that I'd never see it again. But not only did I, I discovered it's available online! Yeah, the images are barely-legible gifs from a crappy scanner. BUT THEY'RE THERE. Major kudos to
ekeme_ndiba for locating this based on nothing more than a passing mention of the Concrete Worker's Song. I don't know how to repay him except possibly by learning to sing it and sending him a youtube video of my performance.
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Have you seen Latin pro populo? More of a comedy routine than a textbook. I can still tell one of the shaggy dog stories in Latin.
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