Putin the Cloned
The cloned Putin
He was already a bit of a cowardly man, but since yesterday he really went straight through the ice. A man that everyone could perhaps still think of as standing or standing for a good cause. Has an opinion, with which he appears on the world stage. A guy with a different view of the world. Quite interesting to listen to, except for the clanging of weapons. Then leave that at home. But it's not a steady guy at all. It's cowardice. Send a doppelg?nger on a triumphant journey and hide herself in a hole in the tundra somewhere. Must have learned from Bin Laden. Hibernate underground in Tora Bora. Little fellow brings breakfast in bed in the morning. With anyone.
Putin is the bungler who has a cloned clown appear in his name on unjustly usurped territory and perhaps sip a vodka himself to see how the world reacts. What kind of man are you then. Hide himself in a hole and maybe six more lookalikes. Perhaps there are a few less, because it is quite difficult to find someone of limited height somewhere in the Russian flatland, who is also willing to compromise his position. There is undoubtedly a whole lot of Rubles against that. Being killed because you are the clone of a government leader who is too afraid to stand for his country, or even worse for his opinion about the border. He can only cross the border with a tank. 'Wanted' tattooed in capitals on the forehead.
?
A little weak for a gentleman who tries to play land grab. Elvis may not always have been in his best shape, but he was there until his death. Churchill may not have been the best general, but he was there when it mattered. Khrushchev may not have had the best shoes, but he was there. To Kennedy, who also didn't wear Elvis' blue suede shoes. Not to mention Norma Jane, who certainly doesn't let a look a like steal the show on the Walk of Fame. Curt Cobain didn't pop a copy of himself through the head either. And Amy Whinehouse didn't let anyone sniff herself for herself either.
This jerk Putin doesn't even deserve a wax figure anywhere on the planet. It has to be said, a waxed up version of himself looks better and shows more backbone than the person in question.
Send someone to the moon, that seems. Melt into the atmosphere on the way back. Be a man and grab the chance. Melt or better yet, freeze in Siberia. But at least have the pride to go through life as an independent individual based on your own strength and conviction. Then the opinion counts. It suddenly no longer matters, if there is nothing else to do in the limited brain to hide behind a cloned double.
James B has also tried to launch a new 007. Did not succeed. In the end, there is only one George Lazenby. In the end, there is only one Neil Armstrong. Small steps. Maybe it's time for a Merleyn Monroe song. Happy ending, dear president, happy flight to the moon.