Dear Diary: It's been like old times these past few days. As I spooned up the last of my Froot Loops this morning, my iPresidentophone burst into the familiar harmonies of the Moscow Steel Foundry Male Voice Choir singing
Keep the Red Flag Flying. "Good Morning, Vladimir" I said, for it was he. "How are we this fine morning? "
"You know I hate false bonhomie, Obamavitch."
"Well then, cut to the chase, Vlad."
"Obamavitch, I understand you are planning to boycott personally our Sochi winter games and, instead, to send a group of decadent perverts as America's delegation. This will be seen as an outrage by the
Soviet, I mean Russian, people. If any member of your grope, I mean group, is caught at their filthy practices while on our soil we will let them them "accidentally" fall down the ski jump without benefit of skis, if you get my drift. And we'll do you a favor and toss that snivelling, whiny traitor Snowden down after them. Well, that's all I have to say. If you want to show off your "diversity" add that
Duck Dynasty guy Phil Robertson to the delegation.
He's got the right ideas." До свидания -- Goodbye Obamavitch," he said, and with that he disconnected. But enough about me.
