“Hello, hullo, ladies and gentlemen, misters and sisters! We are glad to… Heck, I’m going to think and speak like I am a foreigner with such a speed! Ghm, I’m sorry, my respected watch-ers, see-ers, stare-ers, and finally just the ones, who did not find anything better than to simply roll on a sofa in front of the TV this silent Sunday evening! ‘Russia News’ telecast is in the ether, and I, its permanent, though not immortal, figure, Vladimir Vladimirovich Pupkin.
Yes, all of us have awaited this unforgettable and inexcusable moment for a long while – and it has come at the long last! After showing numerous respects, accustoming and toadying of our journalists he finally agreed to give an exclusive interview in our, Russian television studio, located in Chicago. The One elected for the sake of freedom and democracy in all civilized North American continent. The One who received the Award of Peace on the public which was shocked and stunned by such impudence. One who prefers to conduct a vegetarian way of life without departing from the White House. One who has promised so much, and will promise even more. Taliban’s bane and Al-Kaide’s horror. A needle in a haystack, a genius among those who lack talent, wise man among fools, a ray of light in the empire of darkness, damn it! But, enough of flatter epithets! Meet Barrack Hussein Obama, the president of the Jointed States of America in person!”
The door slams open in a television studio and Barrack Obama enters. His face, even black, is saddened even more, dark streams of unknown origin flow down his once snow-white shirt. His eyes express a mix of alarm, bewilderment, and anger.
Obama, “Shit! Niggas shit! Black as we are!”
V.V.P., “President Obama, what’s wrong with you?”
Obama (wipes the face with one of his shirt’s sleeves), “Chose me? Hate me! First chose, then not like! Damn niggas! Hiroshima, Niggersaki! Nuke you, bastards!” (waves a fist of the right hand before a television camera).
V.V.P., “E-r-r-m-m… can I help you in any way? It’s a custom tradition to bring a glass of water in such cases.”
Obama (looking around in fear), “Water? No water! Water turns black as oil! Mississippi, Lousiana! Niggas trick!”
V.V.P., “Mr. President, are you even in the correct condition to participate in our interview? And are you totally and inevitably sure you do not need any sort of help?”
Obama (continuing to look around in a search of the nonexistent enemy), “Help? No help! We help, not us! All world, we help! Bring democracy, spread it! Like gardening, like my wife!”
V.V.P., “Oh, yeah, the topic of democratization of a free world in the American style is in today’s agenda.”
Obama (with considerably increased activity, swinging hands, from which the splashes of dark substance continue flowing, having partially soiled the camera of one of the operators), “Yep! Democracy! Holy shit, we did! This way, that way, everyone gets! Refuses – gets a bomb! No nukes, no Hiroshima, we merciful! Agrees, makes a slave. Lots of concubines, lots of fun!”
V.V.P., “Well, it seems to me that now you have very diplomatically and politically correctly mentioned a subject of so-called ‘colorful’ revolutions, whose rain has recently spilled near the borders of our country…”
Obama (continuing to gesticulate actively), “We help, we buy! Lots of money, Lots of credits! Lots of printing job! Take whole! Democracy matters, a country not matter, money does not matter, no! We good, we help! Bring holy shit!” (Obama's face blurs in a smile), “Wanna shit?”
Obama, “No want? OK! Next time, you take – we will, we make! D-e-m-o-o-o-c-r-a-a-a-z-z-y!” (jumps out of a table and starts to jump actively about the room of the television studio).
V.V.P., “Well, well. So, democracy as an element of decomposing ‘soft force’…”
Obama, “Exactly! We wise, learned well! Make sex, no love, make war, not peace! Shitty piece!” (tears off the next piece of the dried up substance from his face).
V.V.P., “Oh, heck, if you are really that wise…”
Obama (jumping about a hall and clapping in palms in joy), “We smart, wise! We Yankees! Like monkeys! Monkeys wise, humans from monkeys, we from monkeys too!”
V.V.P., “As far as I know, there is just a telecast ‘In fauna’ in the next room of the studio…”
Obama, “We strong! We came, killed all natives, lots of blood! We learned! Doesn’t matter who, we still kill! Arabs, Russians, Latins, all same! Lots of blood! We mighty!” (grins in the television camera).
V.V.P., “And so now you are face-deep in a shit…”
Obama, “No! We OK, all OK! Still, eat, still sleep, still exist – all normal!”
V.V.P., “Well, and does torments of conscience not haunt you? Say, faces of killed Iraq children, occurring in your mirrors in the mornings?”
Obama, “Soul? What soul? We need no soul, we save no soul! No SOS, no… asses! We save ass, that’s all! Fat ass, we take care” (poses his *ss before the nearest television camera, which has approached just in time), “Pretty simple, eh?”
V.V.P., “As they say, it looks like you have just dotted one's i's and cross one's t's without even noticing.”
Obama, “What? Me not understand! I am Yankee, don’t you forget that!”
V.V.P., “OK!” (aside, in a whisper), “Oh hell, how I do agree with you now, my black-ass colleague!”
Obama (having calmed down and again having taken a seat for a table), “More talk, no? Me good talker! Me talks, talks, talks… no deeds, just talks! Lots of fun!”
V.V.P., “Yeah, it’s really difficult to neglect your oratory skill.”
Obama, “Yep! Democracy style! Talk, talk, talk. Do different, keep talking! Blah-blah-blah… great disguise!”
V.V.P., “But, apparently, the world starts to see through this illusion, for long time obvious to some…”
Obama (looking around in fear), “They see? Who sees? We not care! Lots of money, mouth shut! We talk, no they! Silence, no mass media – we are media! All equal, some equal more! Democracy!”
V.V.P., “Now, apparently, I am starting to understand, why such a popular and defiled word starts exactly with the ‘D’ letter…”
Obama (in confusion), “D… dunno? No? De… despots? We kill despots for oil! D… dinners? We good dinners, fat asses! D… devil? We fight the devil, we Empire of Goodness! Gut bless us!”
V.V.P., “Excuse me, I take it that what you really wanted to say is ‘God bless us’?”
Obama, “God? No, we know no God! We forgot. We just kill. Just eat, sleep, drink. Again, again. Endless circle, no end. We Gut Nation! Damnation!”
V.V.P., “So, does this really mean that you do not consider yourselves as a chosen nation, destined to make happy millions of unknown people by democratizing them… to the death?”
Obama, “We are! Are we!? Chosen! Like Jews, like Britain! Holy three! Arabs not chosen, Latins no chosen, we are chosen! Niggas not chosen… shitty niggas!” (catches on the tongue the drop of excrements of voters, which has flown down from hair, and spits it out with passion in the face of the V.V.P.), “You not chosen, too!”
V.V.P., “Enough! Such behavior passes all moral boundaries, even though I am not sure you have any of those remained!”
Obama, “Got it?! Retribution! You refuse, you get retribution! Democracy, fuck you!”
V.V.P., “Enough, the interview ends now. Security, please take care of our deranged visitor! Try not to cause him too much harm, scientists of the future will surely need this brain for studying the reasons of similar is intellectual-national illnesses.”
Two bashers who have entered the television studio inconsiderately take Obama in hands and try to force him out. Obama shouts and spits, threatening with all torments of a Hell, beginning from sale in sexual slavery to the Blacks and finishing with the promise to arrange the next grey-buro-crimson-in-speck revolution. At last, having gotten a blow in the chest from one of the guards, he calms down. And only his gleaming black eyes still shows the degree of his aversion of the similar aversion of their way. Finally, all three silhouettes disappear from the vision of video cameras.
V.V.P. (wiping his face with a hand), “So, my dear watch-ers, see-ers, and stare-ers… he is such a man, this mister community organizer Barrack Hussein Obama! But let us not judge harshly, it’s simply not their day today. And tomorrow too… and the day after tomorrow. For our ancestors did speak right: ‘If you spit in the world – the world will clear itself, and if the world spits on you – you shall surely sink’. And as they say, may the Gut give them good health… and may the God have mercy on their souls!
This was Vladimir Vladimirovich Pupkin, permanent, yet not immortal television figure of the ‘Russia News’ TV show. And as our American friends would surely speak: ‘Have a good day! OK?’”