A new broom sweeps in a new way.
Today it’s not a diadem but a ponytail. I barked “Flash from behind!” and the officers dropped face down on the floor. Then “Cancel that! Form a line! Please take your seats, gentlemen of the military, so handsome and strapping.” I took the oath, demanded all high-born offspring be sent into service, and named Kazakhstan. I’ll make the spoiled sons fire into crowds, to bind them with blood so they can’t flee West.…
While she drilled the generals, I sat with my Israeli friend over a jug of wine. In the evening I asked my wife about the security chiefs. She answered: “They’re as docile as lambs: saying ‘yes, ma’am’ and pouring their souls out in written statements.” Then she promised a new “ladycracy” in place of kleptocracy, but only on condition that I give her another heir.
Kazakhstan, Your Majesty. I answered quickly, without hesitation. In this world there are two things better not argued with: an order and a ponytail.
The emperor is triumphant: the republican school will become real next week. The empress smiles inwardly: one day Russia, posing as a doormat at China’s doorstep, will render the West its greatest service. Until then she must wait and endure, so as not to miss the instant that will be great as a gulp of cold water on a scorching summer’s day.
Read the complete story in “Putin in Freezer.” This page contains only a short excerpt; the book has the rest.
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