El Mundo Donaldo: A Satire


Na Zdorovie!

            OF COURSE there was COLLUSION!  It all goes back to my meeting with Vlad at his lavish St. Petersburg dacha.  From the first moment he flashed those baby blues, I felt the keen stirrings of sexual desire in my nether regions.  Who could resist a strapping beefcake like that?  YOU HAD ME AT “HELLO”!  Unfortunately, that deadbeat, second rate Hollywood-B NOBODY, Steven Seagal, beat me to the punch.  Just as Vlad and I were relaxing in the steam bath banya, SWEATY STEVEN showed up and started boasting about his latest project, Under Siege II, and wanting to know if the Kremlin would consider financing his film?

Clearly excited, Vlad asked if Tommy Lee Jones would reprise his stellar performance as the psychotic rogue CIA agent starring alongside Gary Busey as embittered commander Krill?  Would the action and adventure again unfold on board the USS Missouri amid high risk stakes of nuclear missiles getting out of control and being snuck on to a North Korean submarine?  Seagal was non-committal on such questions, but added that he would be incorporating some of his most memorable stunts from previous cinematic hits.  At that point, LOSER STEVEN proceeded to head-butt some of Vlad’s security detail, which made the Russian politician explode in mirth.

An experienced jujitsu master, Vlad then wrestled Seagal to the floor and got the actor in a head lock.  “You’re going to have to do something more for me if you want my roubles!” Vlad exclaimed.  Looking somewhat alarmed and emasculated, Seagal obediently took off his kung-fu robes and bent over while Vlad promptly started to hit him with a special branch from his sauna.  With a manic grin on his face, Vlad beat that beefcake senseless while downing multiple shots of vodka.  “I demand obedience!” Vlad hollered, to which Seagal could only whimper, “na zdorovie!

Just as I was wondering if I too would be included in this tempting polyamorous adventure, there was a knock on the door of the sauna, and who should walk in but French actor extraordinaire Gérard DEPARDIEU!  As if this sexual ménage a trois could become no more frenzied…voila!  Can I get free Russian citizenship, Gérard asked?  Escaping from France was the only way out, for otherwise the state would tax him and make it impossible to keep on drinking seventy five bottles of red wine per day.  As a token of good will, Gérard had brought a stinky case of camembert cheese to the sauna which had already started to melt.  Delighted by this opportunity, Vlad ordered Gérard to go au naturelle and then began to smear the camembert all over the actor’s hairy chest and nipples.

At first, I found the whole scene to be quite arousing but then, as the three men began to mould into one big, sweaty and gelatinous mass, I was possessed with the need to flee far away.  Never fear, Vlad comforted me: soon enough he would make sure we rounded up a veritable army of Tatar women sex slaves.  Comforted by the thought, I relaxed in my front row seat and took in the spectacle of the three men while dining on my own Trump steak which I’d smuggled in from my personal jet, chicken n’ waffles from KFC, as well as a jumbo chimichanga smothered in guacamole, all washed down with a caramel peanut butter hot fudge smoothie.  CLASSY!

You really shouldn’t trust my accurate narration of events however, either here or anyplace else, since I take a daily dose of a hair growth drug known as Finasteride (™), which is known to impair one’s critical faculties.  I got my prescription from Howard J. Bjornstein, board certified physician from the Rahway, New Jersey College of Medicine.  Bjornstein gives me a yearly supply of the drug but sometimes I overdose so I must constantly go back for refills.  One time, I think I took too much of the drug and everything turned an alarming shade of orange.

All of a sudden I started growing tons of hair in my ears and nostrils, while my eyelids got very bushy indeed.  NOT GOOD.  According to the label, my hair drug can impair sexual function, so therefore I overcompensate during sex by taking 123 pills of Viagra at a time.  Once, while I was banging porn star Stormy Daniels on my personal golf course in Scottsdale, Arizona I mixed the Finasteride with a mega dose of Viagra, which is known to make everything look blue.  Bizarrely enough, the colors all mixed together in a swirl, which to me resembled that neon-like Big Gulp slushy they sell at 7-Eleven.

Come to think of it, why is it that everyone in my personal orbit has this issue with strange hair from Steven Seagal to Howard Bjornstein to Michael Cohen?  At least in my case the hair is chemically induced, but what I cannot tolerate is hair replacement.  I’m talking to you Wolf Blitzer and Jake Tapper of CNN: FAKE HAIR!  This is exactly what’s wrong with U.S. politics as a whole, since all those Republican Senators have similarly opted for hair replacement.  If they had merely opted for Finasteride like me, we’d all be experiencing similar side-effects and thereby land on the same page psychologically.  What gets me the most is Wonder Boy Pierre Trudeau, whose nice-looking full head of hair seems to have grabbed Ivanka’s attention and made her want to bang him as opposed to suggesting a taboo father-daughter rendez-vous.  UNFAIR!

How can you speak of Russia, manly Land of Czardom, in the same breath as namby-pamby Canada?  More importantly, what gives my daughter the right to look at Justin Trudeau so lustily?  I appreciate Ivanka, but frankly it’s time for her to have a 4-way with Gérard, Vlad and Steven.  It sounds exhausting, but life is a stern teacher sometimes.  I think my NASCAR-loving trailer park honcho political base would probably voice some initial hesitation about this sexual lifestyle, but they will come around in time.  My homies, gotta love ‘em!  I could run on a platform extolling the virtues of moose-humping, for that matter, and in no time flat Hannity would be plugging my ideas on Fox.  Come to think of it, I like the ring of this for my 2020 platform.  Sarah Palin has plenty of experience with moose up in her home state of Alaska, and I have little doubt she would be a significant draw at campaign rallies???

By now you’ve probably gotten it into your head that, whatever you may have heard in the media, I am far worse in every way than what has commonly been claimed.  Rachel Maddow and outraged liberals of MSNBC, you have NO IDEA what I’m into!  It all goes back to that first meeting with Vlad: after Steven and Gérard had crumpled on the floor from all of their exhausting exertions at the banya, the Russian president outlined his plans for global domination.  It’s very simple, he explained: all I would have to do is appoint Gary Busey as National Intelligence Director, and thereby short circuit the entire U.S. national security apparatus just like it unfolded in Under Siege.  At that point, Russia would sweep through the southern Ukrainian port of Odessa via Crimea, later linking up with the rogue secessionist province of Transnistria to the west and restoring the lost kingdom of Bessarabia to its former glory.  Ukraine would become a perpetual vassal and tributary state, with local babushkas forced into bondage!

This is where I happily jump in and have a crucial role to play.  Together with the FSB, the successor group to the old KGB, the White House will release damaging kompromat on Angela Merkel.  You don’t fool me you lascivious lesbian: we know all about your risqué BDSM encounters in which you howl for mercy in the Berlin underground dominatrix dungeon.  With Germany in disarray, Busey will do his utmost to scuttle the western alliance, at which point Russia will reconstitute the old Soviet empire and come to the aid of fellow Serbia.  STAY STRONG, SLAVS!  With illiberal democracy now on the march, the time will be ripe for parasitic, kleptocratic depraved oligarchs to spread throughout the region.  At this point in Vlad’s presentation I really perked up, since this kind of scenario speaks to me personally.  Indeed, anything which stands to change the underlying psychology such that people start to cultivate a corrupted, morally debased and transactional outlook on life is really up my alley.  Speaking with Vlad brought back fond memories of my real estate developer past with the New Jersey mob featuring Joey G., Tony T., Tommy Ha Ha and Carmine Whack Whack di Napoli.

I wholeheartedly agreed with Vlad’s plan, and not just because he happens to have such a buff and manly physique (when he goes out on the tundra bare-chested to meet with the Siberian tiger, it gets my heart all a flutter).  At any rate, it emerged that if I went along with the Kremlin agenda, Russia would ingratiate itself with the Trump organization, and this is where it gets really complicated.  That straight arrow Robert Mueller hasn’t even scratched the surface of my utterly wanton, depraved and degenerate joint alliance with the Kremlin, from Kazakh warlords to the sociopathic Agalarov family to that sadist mobster Felix Sater to Moldovan sex traffickers to Ossetian racketeers to Albanian underworld riff-raff to the Blackwater company to Abkhazian smugglers to Balkan crypto-currency fakirs.

What I really appreciated about Vlad’s proposal was the way in which it funneled money through all these various and sundry actors via Deutsche Bank, the Emir of Qatar and the Sultan of Zanzibar, later covering up incriminating dirty tracks through time-tested Russian-Cypriot bank laundering.  Illicit money was shuttled into my own charity, not to mention dozens of bogus shell companies I’ve built up over the years in far flung locations ranging from the Comoros Islands to Montevideo.  In Uruguay, my associates would load up on coke, shipping it north in a sleek high-speed motorboat to the newly-opened Trump hotel in Panama City.  Crockett & Tubbs got nothin’ on me (cue cool synthesizer music from Miami Vice)!  On the downside, however, even for me this arrangement meant dealing with some unsavory characters and that is putting it mildly.  Good thing I can now count on the White House Secret Service to protect me from BAD HOMBRES!

Only a truly diabolical genius like Vlad could concoct such a hare-brained scheme.  MAKE CZARISM GREAT AGAIN!  Bring back Ivan the Terrible!  I’ve read a lot of hype and lies about this patriot, that he was prone to mental instability and episodic outbursts, etc.  They say he was guilty of pillaging, torture and tying women and children onto sleighs and later driving them into the frozen river.  But whatever you may have heard, don’t believe his detractors.  In fact, in the quest for worthwhile role-models, I would go back even further in time to the Golden Horde and the Great Khans.  LONG LIVE GENGHIZ!  I heard he had great hair too.  Or at least that was my impression after watching a documentary on the History Channel.  Genghiz gets an unjustified rap for committing genocide, but he was just a strong leader who had to fight because everyone else in his immediate neighborhood was a bad actor.  My big question though is the following: how do I get Genghiz’s hair genes?  According to myth, the Mongolian nomads know where his tomb is located but won’t disclose the secret location for fear of disturbing the ancestors.  UNFAIR!  I’m going to personally show up at their yurt and get the vital information, one way or another.  Then I’m going to excavate Genghiz’s tomb, extract his genes and splice them into my own body with cutting edge technology.  BRING HIM BACK!

Touring around the former Soviet Union with Vlad, Seagal and Gérard, I was presented with the unique opportunity of taking in Genghiz’s historical legacy.  I was particularly struck with sinister Moscow oligarchs living in Stalinist McMansions with their trophy wives.  Almost all the women seemed to have implants in all the right places not to mention platinum hair, plastic surgery and botox, which really resonated with me since this speaks to Russia’s debased and crass crony capitalism.  I love it when women’s lips are curled up to look like The Joker as if we’re back in immoral Gotham City.  WINNING!  On the other hand, speaking from personal experience botox can have some unintended consequences ranging from respiratory infections to dizziness to redness to muscle weakness, which, when combined with all of the other side effects from my other medications including Lipitor and Finasteride, can give rise to an unusual chemical cocktail.  Sometimes I can’t feel my dentures anymore and start mispronouncing and slurring words, which is sometimes followed by a strange hallucination in which I’m perpetually trapped within a slot machine from my old Taj Mahal casino.

But getting back to the matter at hand and Genghiz’s legacy: in the occupied Crimean port of Sevastopol, we observed tactical nukes on board the Black Sea fleet which, Vlad explained proudly, could all reach Kyiv and the West within minutes.  Later in Chechnya, my Kremlin leader developed a big beard fetish and grew increasingly infatuated with local warlord Ramzan Kadyrov.  Personally I had come to enjoy my discussions with Seagal about his previous films including Above the Law, Hard to Kill and Marked for Death, but the Hollywood actor had fallen out of sexual favor with Vlad, and it wasn’t long before Putin discarded Steven and sent him into exile on the Trans-Siberian railway.  Waving goodbye to Seagal at the station, we headed out to the Donetsk People’s Republic to enjoy a taste of Donbas Dolce Vita with the locals, in this case Vlad’s favorite Cockamamie Cossack Cokeheads.  Posing at the side of the road with a steely grin, Putin pointed to the crash site of MH17, blown out of the air by Russian-backed separatists.  As Vlad boasted excitedly how he had personally overseen a shipment of stinger missiles to the rebels which had taken down the aircraft, I spotted a couple of shacks where people were hocking pro-Putin knick knacks and vodka.  “They get overly excited,” Vlad explained, adding that tourists liked to swim in a nearby stream but would later drown after getting too drunk.

I agreed with Vlad that it was time to recognize Russian claims over Transnistria, South Ossetia and Abkhazia.  As far as I’m concerned, we should grant independence to all these mini-statelets as soon as possible.  Come to think of it, why can’t we just wipe Georgia off the map, not to mention Sakaashvili and any other pesky Caucasus politician whose name I can’t pronounce ending in “ili”?  Furthermore I think it would be great if the Abkhazians could open up an embassy right outside the Trump hotel in Washington D.C.  These hardy folk are known for their pashas and belly dancing which to me is reminiscent of the old TV series I Dream of Jeannie.  I really respect lead actor Larry Hagman who was Jeannie’s master.  Any time Jeannie misbehaved, Larry could just banish her back to the bottle.  But most of the time, there was no problem to begin with since Jeannie’s ancient instinct was merely to satisfy Larry’s every need.  #MeToo knowing no bounds!

My alliance with the Kremlin doesn’t end on planet earth!  After I replace the F.B.I. with my own muscle from the Teamsters and New York’s powerful Five Families, I’m gonna’ take personal control over NASA with Russia and the U.S.A. taking advantage of the Solar System’s full bounty.  Think trashy Jersey Turnpike but more like an elaborate system of inter-planetary shakedown and racketeering, in which the Trump name dots every single asteroid from here to planet Orange Cygnus B, conveniently located in nearby star cluster douchebag.  What I have in mind is similar to one of the original episodes of Star Trek, in which the Enterprise crew is transported into a dystopian parallel universe in which Captain Kirk is a pirate, Spock has a beard, Sulu has a nasty scar on his face and Uhura is turning tricks.  While I like and approve of this vision, my alternate reality would be much, much more tawdry and debased.  After conquering our own immediate Solar System, Vlad and I are gonna’ download ourselves to the fuckin’ matrix and spread throughout the galaxy!  Can’t deal with it?  TOO BAD BITCHES! THAT’S HOW I ROLL!


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