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The Steel Flea

"Tell the Emperor that the English do not clean their muskets with crushed brick!”

—Nikolai Leskov, “The Tale of Cross-eyed Lefty from Tula and the Steel Flea" (1881)

“If it were done when 'tis done, then

'twere well / It were done quickly,”

Volod’ka II (Macbeth) admonishes

angrily at eagle fart in his Kremlin head,

recalling that, as he

calls her now, “neo-Nazi sow,”

Frau M*****, long ago telling him

Sir Winston Churchill, reporting

as First Lord of the Admiralty

on depth-charge trials at Scapa Flow,

informed MPs and subordinate officials

that: “Up from Davy Jones’ Locker below

a door came floating, don’t you know,

inscribed with my own initials!”

But even given notionally the go

by the great statesman’s noble rump,

Volod’ka II still can’t belay a dump.

From a privy in Ukraine's Tophet,

a victim of the bloody flux remits:

“How can a species take

itself so seriously that shits!!”

For the gut biome’s a congenial plant,

Ma Science insists. Catty-cornered

though his gang of gruesome gits,

Volod’ka I, the primo Bolshie prophet,

V. I. Ulyanov,* asked—didn’t he?

intent on faulting foreign feces:

“How can a nation that oppresses other nations be free? It can’t.”



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