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[…] a kind of a dog who looked at life like it was a tin can tied to his tail. After running himself half to death, he sits down, hangs his tongue out, and looks at the can and says: «Oh, well, since we can’t shake the growler, let’s get it filled at the corner, and all have a drink on me.»

Кажется, я сегодня вроде той собаки. Присоединяйтесь. Вспомнившим источник без гугла ставлю дополнительный стакан.

Комментарии — это вебменшены.