DEAR VOLODYMIR

Paul Edwards

The Donald teaching European vassals how to properly bow before him. (TGP AI)

In World War II, some GIs suffered receipt of what were known as “Dear John” letters.  They were last goodbyes from girls who had been their main squeezes but, with them gone, found new loves.

The little weasel who has been the face of The Empire’s dirty war against Russia just got one from Trump.  It told him the war he had run as The Empire’s punk and puppet in its manky, senile pipe-dream of “weakening Russia”, is over.  He’d been jilted.

This astonished the Bag Man for The Empire’s billions, and its poster boy for a decade.  He fed the meatgrinder for Aunt Sam, and our depraved, decayed, uniparty war whores cheered him on.  They’d have given him a standing ove if they could have, as they did with that gore-smeared, Zionist Jew psycho, Bibi.

The Euronebishes, the third-string hacks who run the patsy EU nations, clutched their pearls, but it got worse.  Trump sent his spear carriers, Hegseth and Vance, with the new gospel.  They were debagged, and had their wimpy asses paddled in public.

Wailing, tears, gnashing of teeth.  These shameless sycophants and ceremonial ass-kissers have few peers in history.  For decades they had been told what to do, and how to do it, by a smirking, boasting hegemon, until subservience had become second nature, so that, told to jump, they asked how high?

If they were not entirely despicable, they could be pitied.  They had been assured forever that The Empire had their back, would defend them to the end, and was their bff.  Rash to buy it.  Brings to mind the tale of the eagle and the scorpion.  “It’s my nature”.

The abrupt end of that illusion under shallow, hardball Trump, has caused wicked cognitive dissonance for our Politburo, our sorry, whoring press, and the uppity professional class, who all backed Kamala, and her dippy-jokey campaign for essential non-change.

They all see it as the end of life as we know it, like the whining EU slugs.  None of them can believe a policy they thought carved in marble has been so suddenly, rudely, hammered to powder.

“What?!  Our war is lost?  Negotiate with evilest Putin?  When we were winning, and “weakening” Russia?  Trashing their economy, and “isolating” them?  Just about to retake Crimea?!”

In the evilly motivated, closed, controlled, information vacuum that The Empire has constructed, all who inhabit that hermetic, impermeable bubble unquestioningly believe whatever line of bullshit they are belabored with.  They mold their lives around it.  It becomes their faith, their talisman and mandala, their religion.

The Dear Volodymir letter kicked Europe, The Empire’s Bitch, square in the toolbag.  They were kept on the string for years and then hung with it, in total, shameless reversal of Empire policy.

The error they made was not one you’d see Xi or Putin make: they trusted a debased, psychopathically unreliable source.

For the very few of us, in this totally propagandized, atrophying empire, who despise it for all its evil, the ploy to expand NATO to Russia’s borders was always criminal and fundamentally stupid.

Forcing our proxy war on Russia with the inane and unachievable intent to “weaken and diminish” it, was, from the get, a Neocon wet dream, devised by rabid, twisted, moral gnomes.

Even despising the crass, ignorant boor who seems to want to shut down the Ukraine human trash compactor, one has to praise ending what The Empire never should have begun.  Democrats who despicably drove NATO expansion and caused the bloody obscenity, now have the chutzpah to decry this effort for sanity.

Of course, it’s not a done deal.  It could easily be derailed by The Empire’s best skill: underestimating its adversary.  Trump prides himself—among so many things—as a killer deal maker.  In his mind that means having the chops to fleece a schnook you’ve got by the huevos.  At this table, that ain’t happening.

Putin has been clear on his demands, which are not in play.  An end will be on his terms—modestly, cordially, unlike the style of our recent Beavis and Butthead “diplomats”—but unequivocally.  Trump has been wrongly advised he has the cards.  He hasn’t.

Blackjacking Zelensky who, btw, may soon be dead, for minerals, will provide the same bonanza as taking Iraq’s oil did.  Nichevo.

Beyond war-loving Democrats—who still have Gaza—CIA and FBI-dazzled “liberals”, and Rachel Maddow, all of them mourning possible peace, it remains to be seen if the limp pettifoggers Macron, Starmer, Rutte, and Ursula the Teutonic Knight, can keep their didies clean as they face going it alone with Kiev.

Several pilgrims have come to kiss the ring, to con the home crowd into thinking they have juice with Trump.  The latest will be Starmer, that unprincipled, vacuous nonentity, who is the image of exhausted, looted, feeble England, and Volodya himself, likely seeking deferred asylum.

The Ukraine debacle, capping the insanity of “containing” Russia with NATO, has been one in a long series of miserable failures of The Empire to impose its sagging, slumping will on Europe and the world.  The time has come for it to fish or cut bait, to perform or get off the pot.  To go all in, or fold.

There is pathos inherent in the end of any empire, but it is lost, as a rule, because of the monumental evil it has done.  Ours, in spite of our foolish propaganda, is no exception.  Ave atque vale.