Putin and Sidekick

CHAPTER TWELVE

With a well-practiced sneer, Russian President Vladimir Putin looks skeptically at his Prime Minister Dmitri Medvedev, who’s parked on a nearby chair. They sit in Putin’s office in the Kremlin, which is not at all luxurious. In fact, it’s spartan—not unlike a Soviet-style interrogation room. President Putin has nothing but scorn for Western-style comfort. Soft Americans! Putin thinks. Too much comfort has made America weak. Putin can’t wait until the Moscow snows come again so he can go for a ten-mile jog in two-foot deep snow, in the woods around his dacha. Let’s see Obama top that!

If Dmitri Medvedev were able to question anything, he’d question this room. But his mouth remains shut.

They are “meeting” this morning—if you could call this one-sided encounter a meeting—because Vladimir Putin has received from Obama an invitation to appear at Obama’s worldwide televised pre-election Victory Celebration, along with all other world leaders, with the possible exception of Assad in Syria, who might have too much else to do.

“I’m to perform like a trained bear!” Putin expounds to Medvedev, shaking his head, while Medvedev remains silent. “What do you think, Dmitri? Should we do our act together? Do we fool the stupid Americans again?”

Putin laughs loudly. One would think he never does, but behind closed doors he laughs often, only to himself or to Dmitri. It wouldn’t do to be seen laughing in public. Might destroy Putin’s image. Laughter is weakness. Russian people don’t laugh! Life is too tragic to laugh. Laughter is for soft Westerners, like those stupid Europeans now going bankrupt. Not so much laughter anymore from them, Putin smiles.

Outside the office window, in Red Square, are the sounds of CIA-paid protestors. Putin allows them to make a little noise, for now. If the CIA wants to deplete its budget, who is he to stop it? Putin laughs some more.

“What do you think, Dmitri? Why is Obama having so much trouble winning this election? Why doesn’t he become smart, like me, Vladimir Putin? Stupid American!”

Dmitri has no response to this. He sits silently.

“You dummy,” Putin says to him, with a disrespectful sneer.

Medvedev is too obedient to respond. How could he possibly respond? As Putin looks at the stooge on the chair, he thinks back to how well their act has indeed gone over. Western journalists actually believed that Medvedev could have an independent voice. He made the appropriate noises. Putin made sure he made the appropriate noises. Appeared out of nowhere. A fresh face, which media enjoys. What a plan! Putin applauds himself for his own shrewd Russian genius. Medvedev came right out of central casting. Handsome and well-spoken, if a bit on the short side. Naturally very short, as his kind usually is. It worked well for Vladimir to have a sidekick shorter than himself. Medvedev, anyway, looks impressive sitting down. At a table or a desk. The head and the shoulers are all that matters. Putin provides the words.

Putin thinks back to the practice it took. Not so much, after all. Learning the technique was easy. Even the standard tricks, like drinking water while Dmitri spoke. Putin of course employed a true expert when Dmitri was sent off by himself. The interpreter! Who else? Always leaning close. You wouldn’t catch it, would you, you stupid Americans! Not even the smart Obama. Smart, but not smart enough to see the obvious. People like to be fooled. They love illusion. After all, what else is politics—even the American brand—but illusion? Democracy! Putin learned the lessons of “democracy” well. The Americans are a bit slicker at it, of course, have been at it longer. Always two credible candidates, safely screened, “New Class” people, obedient and tamed, so that whichever one wins doesn’t matter to those pulling the strings behind the scenes. The imperialist American policy remains the same. Yes, Putin grudgingly admits as the protest outside the window becomes louder, he still has much to learn from the Americans about politics.

But, at least, with his good friend and associate Dmitri Medvedev, with this one trick, he, Vladimir Putin, has topped the slick Americans!

“What do you think, Dummy—I mean, Dmitri?” Putin asks the figure on the nearby chair who listens obediently to all Putin says. “Should we attend the Obama pre-election ‘Celebration’ and perform for the world? A little soft shoe? Should we sing a tune? A Russian folk song? Or will our usual routine be enough?”

Dmitri Medvedev, Prime Minister of all Russia, remains silent, as polished a politician as ever. Very polished.

“Sometimes, Dmitri,” Putin exclaims, “I think you’re almost as wooden-headed as Obama’s own sidekick Mr. Biden. Almost!”

To his own joke, Russian President Vladimir Putin laughs and laughs while Dmitri sits limply with the same-as-ever wooden expression on his handsomely smiling visage. Putin’s laughter rises to the ceiling and fills the entire room. The joke, of course, is that Dmitri is an actual dummy, and Putin has been doing the ventriloquist routine now for several years.