Saturday, October 29, 2016

From Russia, with Hate


Vladimir Putin, shirtless on the floor, is doing stomach crunches.

Putin: 558 … 559 … 600.

He shouts triumphantly, leaps to his feet like Jackie Chan.

Putin: 600 crunches! Fuck you, American Psycho!

Aide: American Psycho?

Putin: You are not well read.

Feints punch. Aide flinches. Putin is disgusted.

Putin: Answer this question truthfully. Are you faggot?

Aide: N-no sir.

Putin. “N-no sir.” Tell you what. Punch me in stomach.

Aide: What?

Putin: Punch me in stomach!

Aide: N-no sir.

Putin: Punch me in tfucking stomach!

The terrified aide punches him weakly.

Putin: Harder!

The aide punches him again.

Putin: Harder!

Outside the dacha, two security guards stand impassively while Putin’s grunts and shouts of “harder” emerge from the walls.

Putin: Enough! Turn on TV.

Aide fumbles for the remote. Turns on ridiculously large flatscreen TV.

Hillary Clinton is speaking. Cyrillic subtitles.

Putin: (snorts) Look at her.

Aide: This woman?

Putin: So-called. This bitch wants to be American President.

Aide: I don’t follow American …

Putin: No. Why should you? I only pay you to fold towels and hand me water bottles.

Aide: I’m sorry, sir. I will begin research starting –

Putin: This soulless bitch thinks White House is her birthright! "White House" … you know what this is?

Aide: American seat of …

Putin: Look at her! She calculates her every breath, this bitch. Do I want her to be American President?

Aide: Do you … I don’t know, sir. Do you … What is her ideology?

Putin: Fuck ideology. Go to Fox News! Show me other guy …

Aide: Other guy?

Putin: Trump, you idiot! Trump! The one with orange face and bad hair!

Aide fumbles with TV controller. Goes through various channels. Finally gets to Fox News. Where Trump is speaking.

Aide: Is this the one?

Putin: Who else? Look at him!

Aide looks.

Putin: What do you see?

Aide: Orange-faced man with bad hair. As you say.

Putin: You see nothing. Look at him, really look! This man Trump is world-class at smashmouth football of American TV, yes?

Aide: Smashmouth?

Putin: American expression. Breaking of teeth. Violent contact sport. That is meaning.

Aide: Ahh.

Putin: A talented man, in his limited way. But impulsive, hmm? A lousy chess player. Easily manipulated. So. Do I want this man Trump in the White House?

Aide: Of course not, sir!

Putin smiles. Walks up to the Aide, then snaps his neck. Aide drops like a sack of rocks. Putin walks up to a locker, pulls out a cell phone. Punches number.

Putin: Hello. Gufficer 2.0 I wish to speak to? (Beat) Yes. I will hold.

Monday, October 3, 2016

1% inspiration. 99% damnation.


Satan looks over at a Junior Demon. It's grinning. Wildly, twistedly, horrifically, uh, you know, demonically.

Satan: Why are you grinning?
Jr. Demon: I just invented something.
Satan: Ah…

Walks over. Bends down over the Junior Demon at his little worktable.

Satan: And what do you call your invention?
Jr. Demon: I call it …. Facebook! Hee-hee-hee-hee!
Satan: And what will this invention do?
Jr. Demon: It will …

The Jr. Demon’s grin widens. Becomes, if such a thing were possible, more hideous.

Jr. Demon: … turn everyone on Earth into politicians!

Jr. Demon laughs. Satan laughs. The demons in Satan's Workshop laugh. The pandemoniacal cackling builds, resonates, shakes the Earth …

Mark Zuckerberg sits up in bed in his Harvard dorm room.

Zuckerberg. Wow … I just had the coolest idea!

He writes it down.