You don’t mind if I call you Vlad, do you, Mr Putin?
I hope we don’t have to be on formal terms. After all, you’re the President of an entirely different country and there’s no real formal relationship between us. And besides, Russia epitomises the process of class equality – you even had a charming little revolution about it. So I think it’s right and proper if I call you Vlad.
Now Vlad, I know you’ve been President for a while … in fact, you were President before, became Prime Minister, and now you’re President again. It’s like you’re strapped to a chocolate wheel and you just start working in whatever job your little ticker sticks on. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. You’re getting some perspective, at least, but I’m really hoping you don’t land on janitor next time – otherwise you’ll really be in the shit.
I’m sorry Vlad, that was a low blow – and given I’m gay, I’m figuring the last thing you want from me is a low blow.
But I do wonder … you were in the KGB for such an awfully long time. And we all know how soldiers and intelligence agents like to play. Surely on some cold Russian winter you needed body warmth and had to hug one of your comrades especially close. Surely you both felt the temperature rising as you shared a nip of vodka and that kind of warmth that can only come from close, body to body contact.
Surely by the end of the night your comrade was gasping and clutching at the desk and calling you Vlad the Impaler.
Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.
Yeah, I thought so. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Vlad the Impaler will be our little secret.
And I’m betting you’ve looked more than a couple of times at Barack Obama. I mean, who’d blame you … he’s handsome, he’s powerful, and just like Russia with the Moon, you’ll never get to walk over him. Oh, walk. Sorry about that.
But Vlad, now that we’ve, you know, sat eating cheesecake and talking about just how handsome and charming Barack Obama is, maybe we should talk about this gay ban that’s been imposed in Russia.
Gay ban? C’mon, Vlad. Russia could use some cheer and some real men, and let’s face it … there’s not much more a real man than someone who turns around, drops his pants and says “go for it, big boy!” That’s a pretty big sign of manliness. After all, look at how many men get terrified by a prostate exam. Some gay men been known to have dozens in a day!
You do also need to keep in mind that studies have clearly shown the more intense the homophobia in a man, the more likely he is to be aroused by homoerotic imagery. I’m looking at your parliament right now and thinking … well shit, there’s a whole lot of enemas going on in secret there.
I know that the legislation is about protecting children, but I think whoever was aiming there probably needs to go back out to the legislation firing range and squeeze out some practice shots. (Off! Off! Sorry.) Maybe they should use Syria for target practice?
Let’s face it … very few gay men are actually Catholic priests, and if you were really aiming the legislation at protecting children, you’d be targeting the priests, not our pillow-biting brethren in dear old mother Russia.
So Vlad, call off the dogs. Chill out, go watch The Hunt for Red October and have some giggles over Sean Connery supposedly being a Soviet Submarine commander. Trust me, it’sh worsh it.
But, leave the gays alone. Otherwise we’ll probably have to start comparing you to Stalin; and let’s face it … he was one ugly bastard, and you have that handsome-man he-man image to maintain.
Thanks, Vlad! (Impaler! Don’t worry, it’s our little secret.)