Season’s greetings, odious Western fucksticks of Wonkette! It is I, Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, here to make the Christmas speaking at you! Ah, Christmas. Which you celebrate on wrong date. Also, you do not make twelve-course feast to honor Apostles. And you do not spend all night in church. There is perhaps one hour giving thanks to God, and 20 hours opening decadent number of expensive gifts and stuffing faces with ham. Then the googling of how to order gym membership or Wegovy or amphetamines.
But Vlad loves holiday for different reason: It is time for his end-of-year press conference! Is wonderful day when reporters line up for hours to ask good, patriotic questions to which I give strong, patriotic answers. Questions such as “Mr. President, please tell us how your leadership this year made Russia greatest country in world,” and “President Putin, please accept gift of Rolls Royce Ghost and humblest apologies from publisher who you have threatened with confinement in Siberian prison colony.”
Funny story: Oligarch publisher gave Vlad Rolls Royce Ghost last year, and heated seats did not work! So he went to Siberian prison colony anyway. Let this be lesson for everyone: If giving glorious president Rolls Royce Ghost, check seat heaters first.
So many interesting questions this year! Reporter from Siberia ask if comet 3I/ATLAS is actually UFO piloted by intergalactic aliens. Is true! Siberians very touchy about asteroids crashing into planet after what happened last time. Plus, they have pickled their brains on loneliness. Also on traditional Siberian cocktail of bathtub vodka and industrial degreasing cleaner.
Now, 3I/ATLAS is no danger to Earth. But Vladimir tell this reporter: Go back to Siberia and tell people that 3I/ATLAS can be kept away from planet only if Siberian peoples stand on heads, naked, outside at midnight, all at same time, while howling like grey wolf caught in bear trap.
Ha, ha! Is just little joke Vladimir likes to play on Russian rubes, like you Americans did with your Southerners and integration.
One reporter inquired about low Russian birthrates and what can be done. Of course Vlad chuckled because — I will say this to you, Wonkette, because you will understand — the solution is more fucking. So much fucking. Russian men must fuck like horny bear at all times. Like bear, fucking and eating humpback salmon should be all strong Russian men think about.
But Vlad cannot say this, because Vlad is gentleman and there are mothers present. So he says, tovarich, do not worry, birthrate situation not as dire as some may say. Also that once we finish war — excuse, special military operation in Ukraine — we will have 44 million new Russians all at once! Certainly many of them do the fucking as much as Russian men. Birthrate will increase exponentially then. Even more if Vlad can convince Elon Musk to relocate from America.
Of course, when will special military operation end is main question Russian people ask. Answer is what it always has been: when Ukrainian Nazis are overthrown, their heads placed on pikes lining roads into Kyiv as warning, their flaccid Ukrainian penises rendered useless, their women shipped off to glorious Russian brothels, their children left orphaned and keening in grief, their fields reaped and then salted, their lands divided among local Russian warlords, their pets eaten.
But again, Vladimir cannot say this. Western media would have much angry time! European leaders would make the press releases denouncing Vlad. Would be sooooo annoying.
You know who would not care? Great friend of Russia Donald Trump! He is much too busy with his other projects like tearing down White House and putting name on every building in Washington and writing funny plaques. Sleepy Joe Biden is autopen! Ha, ha! You will tell Donald that Vlad said it was very funny, da?
In truth, Vlad is worried about Donald. The falling asleep in meetings! In front of cameras, even. Cameras! Donald loves those more than he loves own children. And the constant cognitive tests and the weird-looking hands. His health is of great concern to Vlad! Mostly because if he dies, JD Vance becomes president, and that guy is such a dick.
Anyway! S Rozhdestvom to all of Wonkette! Vlad wishes you great joy opening all your new Rollerblades and Labubus and guns on Christmas morning! Remember, no matter how materially happy you may be, you are still capitalist swine that Mother Russia will one day squash like particularly annoying ant!
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[Moscow Times]
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