Dear Diary: Revenge is sweet. Pootin called on my iPresidentiphone this morning. He avoids our secure hotline because he likes to demonstrate that his encrytion/decryption software is always abreast of any changes made by NSA.
"Good Morning, Obamavitch," he said breezily, for it was indeed morning in D.C. "Feeling exceptional this morning, Obamavitch?" There came the sound of a sigh in the background and a woman declaring: "Is this a dagger I see before me, its handle pointed to my hand?" It was Pootin was engaged in his usual late-night sport with a Shakespearean actress in Moscow. "Get a life, Obamavitch," he said,"You gotta get out more. You keep confusing defeat with victory. For you, Obamavitch, Syria equals defeat. " By now I was trembling again-- Pootin is such a big bully. Fortunately, I will be seeing my shrink, Dr Rink, this evening. I have stayed off the choom, so I hope he'll be prescribing an anti-psychotic to get rid of my paranoia and the moose calf with eyes the size of saucers that keeps following me around. But enough about me.
