The Vladfather

~ Patrick O'Grady

All these years we thought Vladimir Putin was a sort of Russian Michael Corleone.

But is it possible he’s been Fredo all along?

You will recall what happened to Fredo.

15 thoughts on “The Vladfather”

  1. I heard that the dumpster was going to marry that weasel glued to the top of his head. They are just working on the pre-nup.

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    1. I played Risk a ton when I was a kid. I seem to remember Ukraine being a hot property. Mostly I hung out down in Australia like some fascist kangaroo, exhorting the troops, before launching my irresistible blitzkrieg.

      Eventually I graduated to the Avalon Hill battle games, which recreated some of the classic bloodbaths that made Europe such a happy place in the 20th century. The D-Day invasion was nearly impossible to pull off without a Hitler who parked his mustache up his keister,

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    1. I figured that’s what you meant, Hoss, but I’m reluctant to start editing people around here, being all like retired an’ shit.

      I wish someone would assign the sonofabitch a task in Hell. This is not how I intended to spend my Golden Years, wondering if some Cossack was planning to turn me into a smallish cloud of glow-in-the-dark gas. That’s how I spent my childhood.

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  5. I don’t remember doing any duck-and-cover drills like y’all. Living with a Federal Reserve Bank in town and perched halfway between DC and Norfolk et al (Atlantic fleet HQ, all their spare nukes, the CIA’s Farm, etc., etc., I guess the grownups didn’t see any point. It’s still disconcerting to see Uncle Vladdy rattling the fissionable sabers, though.

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  6. I grew up 90 miles from Cheyenne Mountain (NORAD) and 50 miles from an army ordnance depot. Duck and cover AKA Kiss your ass Goodbye was de rigeur back in the day. I live far enough out in the great semi-white north so won’t glow in the dark, just will die slowly of all sorts of radiation poisoning. Here’s hoping someone will just take the little fellow out to Siberia and leave him naked about 500 miles from nowhere with a honey overcoat and a fork.

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    1. John, ya gotta give a guy a sportin’ chance. I say put Poot-in in a golf foursome with tRump, Pence and Ted Cruz. Put them on the course at Mara Lago and have them tee off. Now let some Special Forces be hidden and pop up now and then and fire off a few rounds at the foursome, not actually hitting them until say the 14th hole. By that time the foursome will have cried, begged, turned on each other and finally begin bragging about how impervious they are. But #14 is a tough dog leg par 5 over water and this is where they get their just desserts. I’ll leave it to others to finalize the round. I dare not put forth my version.

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      1. Remember that Putin is third generation Russian secret service. His roots go back to Dzerzhinsky and Beria. He’s the scary one. The others are just posers.

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    2. Chance? No, he don’t don’t deserve it. Lock him up in solitary every night right next to the Chernobyl reactor containment dome. He can work on cleanup during the day. Bill is right about the others. Posers of the worst sort. Orange jumpsuits, with black stripes, would fit them. Lots of road cleanup work for them on I-10 between Casa Grande and Phoenix.

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