Dear Diary: I was infuriated to learn that the conceited little twerp, Ed Snowden, is now seeking political asylum in Russia. I picked up the phone and called Vlad. "Putin here" he panted breathlessly. " Oh, it's you, Obama. Do you know what time it is here? It's 1 a.m. on Sunday." There was a rustling sound and an urgent whisper: "Romeo, Romeo wherefore art thou Romeo." I had apparently interrupted a tryst between the newly-divorced Putin and an English Shakespearian actress. Awkwaard. "Obama, what do you want? Putin asked, still breathless. I said: " I just want you to know Vlad that, if Snowden wants to fly out of Russia that's OK with us. Just book him on a flight with Asiana."
Later today I played a round of golf with two sports journalists, Michael Wilbon and Tony Kornheiser. At Fort Belvoir in northern Virginia. In politics as in life, it pays to make friends before you need them. But enough about me.
