Dear Diary: Barely had I set a shoe upon the Resolute desk, this morning, when Vlad called from Moscow. He says he's authorized a visa for that traitorous little twerp Snowden. "Vladimir," I said, sternly, "I am very disappointed. You will pay a price for this." Putin calmly replied: "I see on the schedule at the White House website, that you are having lunch with Joe Biden today. When Joe sits down, you will hear my answer to your contemptible threat."
Strange. I thought,
I wonder what that can mean. I was soon to discover. I met with Joe in the private dining room. "Hi Joe" I said, "Vlad Putin says you will be delivering an answer to me about Snowden. Joe shook his head. "No. Dunno what you mean..." As he lowered himself into his chair there was a thunderous blast of wind -- a massive Bronx cheer. Joe leaped up and looked down at the seat of his chair. "Goddam Whoopee cushion," he declared, incredulously. I pressed an alarm button and a Secret Service agent hurried in, gun at the ready. I yelled: "Vlad the Inhaler has infiltrated the White House. Everybody evacuate!" He ignored my tirade and called his boss via his wrist watch, like they always do. "Test the whoopee cushion for prints," I ordered decisively, since I am a better agent that my agents. But enough about me.
