Pootie Poot, W’s name for Vlad the Impaler, about to be impaled.
And Foreign Secretary Sergei Lavrov.
Hanged from lampposts in Red Square. If there aren’t any, they will be erected.
But don’t put their eyes out, we don’t want them having any Oedipal awarenesses. We want them to see what is happening to them.
O, Lord, am I in to revenge. Bad on me. Mercy, please, the quality of, thank you, Portia.
OK. Now what?
I am not sure how courageous any of us would be given the Russian assault on Ukraine, who among us would have President Zelensky’s strength, or Foreign Minister’s Kubelo — did you hear him opposite Secretary of State Blinken, Kubelo, heavily accented, but brilliant English, and the pocket square, nice, could any of us speak that well? — I know not me.
Revenge. I have read and seen the great revengers’ tragedies of the Elizabethan and Jacobean eras and they are bloody like crazy. Did I say Putin?
Cyril Tourneur, John Webster, did they have tanks? Knives, poisons, were all they needed. But their characters, evil courage, which the KGB Colonel does not have.
Attack the money. The Pootiecrats. And their children. So they will not be able to cruise around in their Bentleys or their yachts anymore. Then maybe Daddy will bail on and boil Old Snake Eyes Tovarishch.
Did you see the length of the table that separates Pootie from his “advisors.” It is the distance of a curling alley. Apparently, he is terrified of COVID.
If only we had Adolph with that footage.
(Pluto — I don’t mean to attack the gentle dog or the erstwhile planet.)
Attack the money. Cannot say it enough. It’s always been the ticket. Cut the head off and Snake Eyes will die.
Back to the beginning. Vlad the Impaler. An insult to our Romanian Blood Sucker, Dracula, who at least had the sartorial imagination, in tuxedo, not shirtless off his horse, the former KGB Colonel Impaler, not to do cowardly bloodthirst from thousands of kilometers away.
The Poles, the Romanians, the Hungarians, who you couldn’t get to agree on pierogi or kozonac or goulash, are taking in the Ukrainians.
Here’s the former President of Ukraine, Poroshenko — You have to stand above your fear. And that is his English.
And President Zelensky? A Jew. With Lavrov justifying the invasion to “de-Nazify” Ukraine? The gallows awaits, Tovarishch.
My Lord, who can do that? And who’s that articulate? The Ukrainians.
And finally, the Russian people who are being fed disinformation, like mad. A young Russian woman in Ukraine is in touch with her parents in Russia who have been told that it is the Ukrainians who are shooting their own. That is what Snakey tells them. (I have to stop belittling snakes. They can’t help it they look like Poot. And the fact that they slither…)
Senator Lindsay Graham has called on the Russian people to assassinate Vlad. Best idea he’s ever had. Channeling your inner Rasputin, are you, Lins? But how about your Trainer who calls V a Genius! What will he think of you now, lapdog?
Rocky and Bullwinkle. Remember them? If you do, you’ll also recall the snakey Soviet spies Boris and Natasha, making Get Smart look smart. If we can get them to rebel, to put up the nooses, perhaps the one-sided carnage will stop, and the Russian bear will understand what “carnival” really means. Goodbye to meat. And he will lie down with the Ukrainian lamb after all. Let’s give it all up for Lent. And stand above our fear.
Lonnie Carter is a writer who lives in Falls Village. Email him at lonniety@comcast.net.
Attack the Russian money