Dear Diary: I was eatin' my breakfast eggs at an ungodly hour when the Moscow Foundry Men's Choir rendition of
Keep The Red Flag Flyin' blared from my iPresidentophone and mercifully drowned out the sycophants on the
Today show. "Good mornin' Pootin", I said [for it was he]. "
Obamavitch," he said. "I want to demonstrate to you what real diplomacy does....I have President Hassan Rouhani of Iran on the line. There was a burst of static and a voice said: " Hello, al-Obama? President Rouhani here. I'm on the way to JFK. President Putin wants us to have a preliminary telephone talk to set up further talks between our two sides."
"Excellent". I said tryin' to contain my excitement, but knowin' this to be a real breakthrough/distraction at just the right time. "Let's leave it to our ambassadors to sort out a place, time and agenda. "Rouhani --or his translator-- began warbling a pop song from the Carter era (which is probably the last time anyone in Iranistan heard pop music) "
It's my Farsi and I'll cry if I want to." A quaint, but touchin', gesture. But enough about me.
