Say what you will about Eugene Levy's Siberian second cousin Wladimir Levy. But know that he is more than a man with a Canadian tuxedo and a Riker's Island smile. He's a man of conflicting dualities. He's filled with a jarringly potent zeal for his pursuits and hobbies. Yet ironically, those loves of his life also plague him, haunting his soul like the 8-armed ghost of Lenin that chokes him in his dream every night for being a Western sympathizer. But life isn't all about keytars, pelting, and sex crimes. So every year, during the rising blood moons of the dark season, Wlad retreats to his family compound nestled deep in the bandit and wolf-plagued forests due east of the cursed sulfur mines of Petetrotsdokivalavakia. There, and only there, Wlad can be Wlad. And once that iron door is bolted, it's crying time.
Coincidentally, the compound happens to be the only place that the ghosts of Vidal Sassoon's modeling agency can properly be summoned through the haunted phonograph inherited from his dead uncle. (Who everyone knows was totally a vampire, but don't tell Wlad, he's sensitive about it. Keep that one on the D.L. Hughley, komrades.)
Coincidentally, the compound happens to be the only place that the ghosts of Vidal Sassoon's modeling agency can properly be summoned through the haunted phonograph inherited from his dead uncle. (Who everyone knows was totally a vampire, but don't tell Wlad, he's sensitive about it. Keep that one on the D.L. Hughley, komrades.)
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