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Dr. Maximilian Tundra

The Tragic End

The Beginning of the End

(Partial) Bio

Remembering Dr. Tundra

The Wit and Wisdom of Dr. Tundra

The Poetry of Dr. Tundra

Memorial Ode:
O Tundra! Max Tundra

The Tundra Prize

Tundrafact:
Max also founded the first (and now defunct) official chapter of the Circle, in London, England

Tundrafact:
In addition to a Ph.D., Max held a medical degree from the American Universities of the Caribbean.

Dr. Maximilian Tundra
An (But Not the Only) Unexpurgated Biography of Maximilian Tundra, Ph.D., MD

No stranger to the finer things in life, one of Dr. Tundra's hobbies was scotch tasting.

Little is known of the early life of Maximilian Tundra. His birth records were destroyed when the small Catholic church in which they were supposedly kept, and in whose confessional booth he was reportedly squirted -- squealing -- into the world, was engulfed in an inexplicable inferno.

It is said that he attended the usual progression of schools, from primary through post-secondary, in London, Ontario, the "For Rest City," but in an unfortunate series of coincidental mis-filings, his undoubtedly impressive academic record has disappeared. Sadly, despite his current prominence in the academic, literary and degenerate communities, Tundra seems to have been remarkably unmemorable during his formative years.

No one is exactly sure in what discipline Tundra earned his doctorate, although it is suspected to have been an area previously ignored by mainstream academicians. His dissertation, said to be a lengthy and poignantly effervescent treatise, is purported to have been classified by the military and security establishments as "So Secret as to Have Been Locked Away for the Safety of the Moral Health of the Populace." Only a snippet of the first line of the document is known, and this only through hearsay… "She was a fat bitch, but she knew the Kama Sutra…"

In truth, no one knows where Tundra is, or what Tundra is. All that is certain, is that Tundra Is (no more).

In 1993 Maximilian Tundra moved from his beloved Arctic to discover the Bohemian pleasures of Expatriate Prague. A beer-drinker's paradise, he kept himself in pivo (the amber liquid) and knedlicky (dumplings) with freelance surgery.  His experiences are related on his website, Exile.

He may be contacted by email no longer, due to his recent fatal fall from the Severn Road Bridge.

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