Dear Diary: We have settled into our Martha's Vineyard mansion. Of course Vlad Pootin had to show his mastery of global communication by calling me on my specially-engraved iPresidentophone at breakfast this morning. I put the phone on speaker as I bit down on my two eggs over-easy with wholewheat toast. "Good morning Obamavitch" he said, I hope you are enjoying yourself in Michelle's Vineyard. ""Martha," I replied.
"Martha?" asked Pootin. "Martha," I repeated ...it's 'Martha's Vineyard,' not 'Michelle's Vineyard."
"Whatever." said Pootin, "I'm calling because I want you to be the first to know that I have granted a visa to the father of Edward Snowden so he can visit with his son in Russia. We we want keep Edward happy so that he continues to surrender your secrets. Goodbye, and have nice vacation, Obamavitch." He knows how much I hate that name. Bastard. But enough about me.
"Martha?" asked Pootin. "Martha," I repeated ...it's 'Martha's Vineyard,' not 'Michelle's Vineyard."
"Whatever." said Pootin, "I'm calling because I want you to be the first to know that I have granted a visa to the father of Edward Snowden so he can visit with his son in Russia. We we want keep Edward happy so that he continues to surrender your secrets. Goodbye, and have nice vacation, Obamavitch." He knows how much I hate that name. Bastard. But enough about me.
