From The Transmetropolitan Review By Barabule Cutarescu
Editor’s Note: The entirety of this article is fiction and meant for entertainment purposes only.
Hey, you there? It’s me again, a stronger, even more powerful Barabule Cutarescu, peasant farmer of the Moldovan hills. The last time I wrote to you from far-eastern Romania, I thought it entirely possible that it might be my last communication to you losers. Turns out I was wrong. Turns out I believed a bit too much of the Russian propaganda and assumed, just as they did, that the entire population of Ukraine, exhausted from brutal IMF-imposed austerity, would just roll right over, allowing the dreaded Red Army to advance all the way to Moldova. It seemed like this was going to happen for exactly two days, but I’ll get to that later. Just remember, before reading any further, that no one is immune from propaganda. A wise cat once told me that, only sometimes I forget.