From The Transmetropolitan Review by Barabule Cuterescu
I didn’t plan on writing another article in English, but the universe had different plans for me, Barabule Cutarescu, the Moldovan potato, your peasant narrator. It’s too weird of a story not to tell, so I don’t care who I piss off, especially now that I’m chilling in some village outside of Iași. I’m serious, I’m literally fucking freezing right now, but whatever, go enjoy your California sunlight. Us poor, miserable Moldovans will keep sliding down the frozen-ass roads on our way to the magazin general. Yeah, that’s right, Romanian sounds a little French, doesn’t it? So if you’re just a another dumb loser from the US who doesn’t know magasin général means general store in French, now’s the time to catch up and realize people in your country don’t know shit. It’s a serious problem.