Hey Comrades, Vladimir Putin here.
I’m in the Kremlin sitting at my 20-foot-long table far away from my sniveling, simpering bunch of lapdogs and lackeys as I set about on my conquest of the world.
Yes Siree Bob, I’m the envy of dictators past and present. Tyrant–that’s me with a capital T as in Totalitarian and darn if that doesn’t make me grin when I humiliate my yes men.
Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan, Julius Caesar, Napoleon, Stalin, Mussolini, Hitler, they’re all chumps and ciphers compared to me when we’re talking world domination. You wanna know about wiping out whole civilizations and cultures, just watch and admire how I obliterate my enemies to create my new empire.
It was Georgia and Crimea yesterday, it’s back to Ukraine today. Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia, don’t waste my time mentioning those midgets. Tomorrow it’s Poland, France, Germany, and anybody else when I get in the mood to destroy. Switzerland, you say you’re neutral and won’t give me any grief. Ok, I’ll leave you alone for now. But watch it.
England? I’m gonna pound the Brits into rubble until they give up that stupid English pound for our magnificent ruble. Pound for pound, even the Queen must know I’m the King, forget about that’s what they called Elvis Presley, who would admit if he wasn’t still eating his peanut butter sandwiches every night that I’m always ready to rock & roll over the next country in my way.
USA? You too are in my crosshairs. As Frankie Vali of the Four Seasons once sang, “You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you.” After I finish off the rest of the world, old and slow Joe Biden, you’re next to see my wrath, baby. Wait till my computer hackers take down all of your power generators and steal all your state secrets. You think we meddled in your 2016 presidential election? That was just a trial run, child’s play. Wait till we get through with you in ’24.
What about China? Chairman Xi Jinping doesn’t know it, but I got a nuke ready for him when the time’s right. Xi thinks he can out-dictator me, like what’s he done to Hong Kong, but I’m King Kong when it comes to oppression. When I get finished with China, all the Chinese coolies will have left to eat are scraps of rice and noodles. I invited Xi over for dinner to try some of our native borsch and beef stroganoff but he acted scared like I was going to poison his food. Would I do that? I even offered him a bottle of our finest vodka as a toast to his rule, but he wouldn’t drink it until his poison squad tested it first. And he calls us buddies? All I can say after the way that snake acted is “Nyet.”
You’ve heard about the thing called The World Domination Board Game where the winner becomes master of the universe. That was just a stupid game, I’m talking about being a real butcher with bombs, mortars, and missiles fired from the sky. Comrades, I ain’t playing around.
I’m corrupt? Of course, what real dictator worth his salt isn’t corrupt? Look at the size of my dachas and my yachts, the oligarchs think they got money? You should see what I got hidden in my Swiss bank account. Not to mention what I’ve stashed in the Cayman Islands, which when I get around to them will be squashed like a plate of goulash.
Speaking of goulash, that dolt Donald Trump thinks he and I are besties, even as he’s always sucking up to me saying I’m a genius for how I invaded Ukraine. Sure, he owes me plenty for how I meddled in the 2016 election and did my darndest to get dirt on Crooked Hillary Clinton, not to mention how he keeps bugging me to do the same to sleazy Hunter Biden. People say Trump’s scared stiff of me, like he should be, since he believes I have videos of him carousing with prostitutes in one of our finest hotels. Whether I do or not isn’t the issue. As a brilliant dictator, the trick is to make him think I do.
So it’s Russia today, tomorrow back to calling it the glorious USSR once my master plan to dominate is done, with the one and only me, Vladimir Putin ruling the Earth. Some people would take off their hat in honor of that, but for me, it’s taking off my shirt to show off my magnificent muscular bare chest for all the Moscow girls to ogle. Some horse’s ass would say that’s vain, but I say that’s no shirt off my back when they erect their statues and monuments to me riding on my horse. As Louie XIV of France might say, L’état, c’est moi.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back after I finish taking care of business in Moldova.