Foreword: This poem is formally dedicated to Norm MacDonald, the funniest guy I [don’t] know. − “How do you do today, moth? Don’t be shy.” “Bozhe moi, doctor, where to begin? Beset with cold sweats, seized by spells of shakes, I Feel my fevered fate fast wearing thin. • For my boss, Mr. Gregor-Alinnovitch, year […]

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