My Dearest Vlad,
I’m so lucky to have you as an advisor–you are so much more smart than my generals or the so-called “intelligence” experts. I don’t need them because, after all, I’m a stable genius. Smart! Stable! Genius!
As you suggested, I got on live TV (You know I’m a reality TV star, don’t you? Big! Huge! Star!). I explained everything I could remember about the special operation that killed Bagdaddy. Dead! Coward! Covfefe!
Some of the generals here are trying to argue with me (ME!) but my staff stops them–most of my staff are temporary, or as I like to call them, “acting.” Kelly cabinet! We work!
The generals keep complaining that I disclosed TTPs. Isn’t that when people throw toilet paper over your house and trees? So what’s the big deal? It’s a mess, but I have employees to clean it up who are willing to work for next to nothing. I never check their paperwork. Lots of Spanish. Good business! Cost cutting! Smart!
In any case, Vlad, I appreciate all your support and advice.
I hate to ask this, but just in case things go badly, will you help me out? I’m sure you could provide me with a nice dacha in Crimea. If absolutely necessary I’d be willing to bunk with Ed Snowden for a couple of days until you can get everything finalized.
You don’t need to worry about my wife–she is from somewhere over there, so she’ll be fine.