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It Is Vladimir Putin's Favorite Time Of Year! No, Not The Polonium Harvest
Happy Halloween from Moscow, decadent candy-stuffed Western scum!
Boo! GRRRRRR! Werewolf noises!
Did I scare you, effete fuck-donkeys of Wonkette? Yes, it is I, Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, in this werewolf mask. I am told this frightens Americans. More than a Russian military cyber unit with lots of dummy social media accounts, even!
You did not poop the pants? Ah, well. Vladimir is glad to see you anyway. We have not spoken in, how you say, quite a spell? But it is fall, and Halloween, Vladimir’s favorite time of year, when everything starts dying before bitterly cold Moscow winter sets in.
You are perhaps saying, Vladimir Vladimirovich, why a werewolf? Why not a mummy, or a vampire, or the Frankenstein, which you already slightly resemble? You have same square face and cold, dead eyes. You are also an abomination driven by the basest instincts of man, stitched together from corpses and reanimated in a secret laboratory and let loose to terrorize the countryside! You also love cold weather!
To which I say, yes to all except the corpse part. Is no truth to rumor all over news this week that Vladimir — what is expression? — Croaked? Kicked the bucket? Shuffled off mortal coil? As you can see, I am alive and well and strong like Russian bear, not dead like Yevgeny Prigozhin. Poor Yevgeny! Imagine you are cruising innocently through country you fomented rebellion against when BAM! Your plane just falls from sky. This is why your TSA does not allow you to carry hand grenades onto airplanes. Yevgeny liked to live dangerously, like Austin Powers or early Soviet cosmonauts or fly that hangs around spider webs.
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Nor is it true Vladimir was replaced by body double. For starters, who could fake this? No, no one else has or could possibly even duplicate Vladimir’s regimen of chopping wood, eating nothing but caviar blini at every meal, and ordering imprisonment and poisoning of enemies. What can I say? It keeps me young.
No, Vladimir is one-hundred-percent original parts, like luxury Volga straight off glorious Soviet production line. Ask your President Bush about Volgas! Secret Service was not happy that day, but I tell them do not worry, Vladimir is excellent driver and tires almost never spontaneously fall off anymore.
Ah, but I meander. Where was I? Oh, yes, the werewolf. A werewolf is most majestic and vicious of American animals. Perhaps not quite as majestic and vicious as Russian tundra lynx, but they don’t sell Russian tundra lynx costumes at Moscow Party City. I have ordered manager of Moscow Party City sent to Siberian labor camp until he can explain himself. Meanwhile, many Halloween parties to attend this weekend.
You are surprised? Why? I love Halloween, and I love Halloween parties. Annual Kremlin party has big costume contest, which I have won now 17 years in a row. Even years I haven’t worn a costume. I have streak to keep going.
And competition is always fierce. Last year Defence Minister Shoigu went as orphaned Ukrainian child. He wore torn clothes and no shoes and hobbled around party asking everyone if they could spare any food or a warm place to sleep with no holes in roof, and he cried pitiably when everyone said no. Very funny stuff! For extra realism, I ordered him kicked to Moscow sidewalk and then adopted by Maria Llova-Belova. As you know, Vladimir loves jokes.
Usually, anyway. Except for year of wacky candy incident, when I mixed up regular candy with polonium-infused candy FSB was supposed to plant in your American grocery stores and Walmarts. Ha ha, they still laugh about it in FSB offices. And then I have them all shot.
I even invite your president Donald Trump to Halloween party. Every year I tell him, “Donald, you must come to Kremlin for Halloween. There is much candy, and apple bobbing, and at end of night we all gather around fire pit full of Ossetian refugees and everyone guesses nuclear launch codes for one Western nation. You could tell us if we guess America’s, and if we don’t, what they are. Then we will watch ‘Charlie Brown Halloween Special’ together. Will be good time!”
But no, he tells me you Americans are too busy persecuting him for simple crime of election interference and sedition and stealing classified documents and leaving classified documents in unlocked pool house and lying to federal government about it and conspiracy to commit fraud and dodging taxes and yelling about it to media and wearing so much bronzer he looks like a set of baby shoes. So it would “look bad” if he flew to Moscow and it would “look bad” if he requested asylum and it would “look bad” if he was so grateful to Vladimir when I grant it that he offered up Ivanka as a concubine and it would “look bad” if—
Sorry, sorry, imperialist Western turnips of Wonkette! Is very stressful time, is all. What with special military operation in Ukraine dragging on and glorious Russian economy collapsing and “Abbott Elementary” premiere date being pushed back to 2024 because of writers’ strike. If it was Russian show I would simply tell writers if they do not like writing in comfortable Moscow studio, perhaps they would like it better if they relocated to abandoned oil rig in Barents Sea to juice creativity? I am fairly sure David Zaslav would have tried this if he had thought of it.
Well. Happy Halloween to you, debased Wonkette cum mops! I hope you have a fun and restful and polonium-laced-candy-free holiday!
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