ADullAche

Dmitry Medvedev, the new Russian President, (and Valdimir Putin’s handpicked successor) is about to take his first official trip after being sworn in on May 7. A little more than two weeks later, on May 23, he’s off to Beijing for a little face time with Chinese Big Boss, Hu Jintao.

You don’t need to be Condoleezza Rice, the “expert” in Soviet affairs, to see Putin’s hand in all this. Putin, who’s made himself Prime Minister (and leader for life the way he’s managing things) has once again spit in ol’ Dubya’s eye, proving to the world just how irrelevant our own Fearless Non-Golfing Leader is, and how, thanks to eight years of dumb & dumber policy, global power is shifting east.

But the not soon enough ex-tenant of the White House is nothing if not stubborn and indifferent to reality, so he’s yet to accept his lack of status in the world. Now he sits by the phone and waits for his calls to be returned…

(Dubya paces in the Oval Office, a putter over his shoulder. The phone rings. He dives on it.)

DUBYA: Dmitry?…oh, it’s you, Dick…no, I didn’t mean it like that…no, I’m not sulking over him goin’ to China…yes, I told him I’d make Daddy’s tacos…I dunno, maybe he likes that duck they make over there…look, I gotta get off the line in case he calls…we do? What is that, like call waitin’?…I gotta go anyway, in case he calls.

(Dubya hang ups and walks over to a putting green in Oval Office. He starts to line up a putt, then stops.)

DUBYA: No, I can’t break my word to the American people. Man, this war is killin’ my short game. (The phone rings.) Dmitry?…oh, hey Condi…no, I’m not sulking over him goin’ to China…yes, I told him about Daddy’s tacos…look, Condi, I’m waitin’ on a call, I gotta get off the line…we do? So I’ll hear a beep or somethin’?…I dunno…yeah, tuna sounds good, but I don’t want any of those damn green onions in it…okay, I gotta go, he might be callin’.

(Dubya crosses to his golf bag in the corner of the office. He slams in his putter then mopes to his desk and sits in the chair that has always been much too big for him. He puts his chin on the desk, and stares at the phone.)

DUBYA: Com’on, baby, ring…ring…ring…

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