The central feature of this work is just how much smaller I made Putin’s left eye than his right. It’s all scrunched up and sleepy, like a little deformity. Personally, I think he’s got something twisted inside him, a torturing secret that keeps that one punky eye twitching and moving all the time. He just doesn’t feel safe, like he’s worried someone’s gonna’ catch him doing something.
I know I initially said that I saw into his soul the first time I met him and that he was trustworthy, but that was bullshit. Politics is 95% bullshit, which is why I was so dominant at it– the Bush family, we’re like the goddamn New York Yankees of politics, something I think you can see reflected in my self-portrait. I look confident, like a powerful eagle that can just swoop in and have whatever lady bird he wants. I’m not really convinced that Putin likes the lady birds.
Why? Well, he made a big deal about his dog being bigger than my dog, like he was actually talking about our dicks. I don’t know what they teach you at the KGB, but when I was a cheerleader at Yale we learned that your dick is very different than your dog, and the cheerleaders that were always talking about how big their dog was, well, they were almost sure to be queer.
One of the guys that was a cheerleader with me at Yale actually became a dental hygienist. Imagine that! Only male dental hygienist I ever heard about. Don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want another dude cleaning my teeth. Anyway, this guy, Anderson, when he was a cheerleader he was always talking about how big his dog was, so it just goes to show you. Over-compensation, that’s what the shrinks call it.
Oh yeah, the painting! I also made Putin pout a bit in the painting, like a little crybaby, and I wanted his eyebrows to look like caterpillars because I really don’t like the guy. He’s got no sense of humour, and he’s always wanting to show off his karate moves and flip you. Very touchy-feely, but in an angry way, you know?
Just a douche.
He needs an infusion of Jesus Christ in his life.
Stat.
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