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Me: That’s not true.

Me: I hate Donald Trump.

Me: Yes, I do.

Me: I really do.

Me: What on earth makes you think I don’t?

Me: The way I’ve been shaking hands?

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Me: Look, I’ve always had a strong, Presidential handshake. It’s one of the things that attracted you to me, you know that!

Me: Oh C’mon, Justin Trudeau didn’t beat him! The media, so many lies! So unfair!!

Me: Trudeau was just trying so hard to be macho. Sad.

Me: Fake. Not true

Me: I am not talking like Trump now.

Me: Trudeau’s a bad hombre.

Me: Bigly.

Me: You see the way he was ogling Ivanka?

Me: Disgusting.

Me: An embarrassment to Canada.

Me: No, you’re an embarrassment to Canada.

Me: You are, too.

Me: Hell, I don’t even think you root for Canada during the Olympics.

Me: You’re not a patriot.

Me: You’re not helping to Make Mike Great Again.

Me: You’re a disruptive technology.

Me: Sorry????

Me: My Google Autofill?

Me: That’s a sacred precinct!

Me: You shouldn’t be poking around in there!!

Me: Well, I really don’t know why “Trump Anime Sex Fantasies” showed up there.

Me: Probably some keys Jones hit by accident.

Me: That little nugget gets into everything!

Me: What?

Me: He did what?

Me: Fuck!

Me: That was a gift from my sister.

Me. Sentimental value. Huge sentimental value.

Me: Don’t have a clue where I’m going to find another The Apprentice: The Board Game.

Me: Jesus. I feel sad.

Me: That was a fun game.

Me: Better than fucking Catan.

Me: Who wants to buy goddamn wheat?

Me: Really, you think you can make an night of it with friends “buying wheat?”

Me: Please.

Me: My attitude is fine.

Me: Anyway, we’ll see how he feels when I destroy his dog toy.

Me: I swear to God, that dog is evil.

Me: It is, too. The tail wags for no reason.

Me: No!! There was no battery in it!

Me: Really!

Me: It was creeping me out so much I removed all the batteries, but it still barked and tilted its head!

Me: Oh.

Me: I just thought there was the one spot for batteries.

Me: Who ever heard of two spots for batteries?!

Me: That’s insane!

Me: Whatever.

Me: Still think it’s possessed.

Me: Gonna murder us all in our sleep.

Me: I am going to build a wall around that dog and make Jones pay for it.

Me: No, watching Poltergeist hasn’t poisoned me against a toy dog!

Me: Well, maybe.

Me: Yeah, I guess you’re right.

Me: I had forgotten how scary that movie is.

Me: Netflix should be more careful with the types of movies they broadcast.

Me: Yes, I was.

Me: Have you ever watched Poltergeist stoned?

Me: Fucking terrifying.

is married to Heidi Cruz, an investment manager at Goldman Sachs. She was recently threatened by Donald Trump.

The story goes like this:

An ad designed to target Mormons shows a photo of Trump’s wife, Melania, in one of those sort-of nude poses that only exists in magazines.

Trump, furious, blamed Ted Cruz for this assault on decency and took to the attack on Twitter, posting:

“Lyin’ Ted Cruz just used a picture of Melania from a G.Q. shoot in his ad. Be careful, Lyin’ Ted, or I will spill the beans on your wife!”

Now, everybody is curious to know what’s in those beans Trump is threatening to spill.

I may know.

Heidi Cruz and I have been confidantes to one another for thirty years.

She is an absolutely lovely person, a shining example of what America, at her best, can be.

Heidi and I met at a Christian youth camp one summer when we were both teenagers. Heidi was the best prayer partner I have ever had. Such soft hands. Anyway, it was a magical summer, and though some might say what happened between us was a sin, I cannot believe that God would frown upon such love.

Although Heidi and I have not seen one another in a long time and we have chosen very different life paths, we have remained faithful pen pals over the years. Here are some of the more recent emails that she has sent me:

Michael, my Morningstar:

Ted’s appetites disgust me.

Wednesday was Star Wars night.

Again.

As always, I dressed up as a Storm Trooper and Ted as Padme Amidala.

Ted’s rape fantasies can be quite elaborate, but this night was mercifully straightforward. I took him with force, but as I was still mad about a comment he made about the “tone” of my grace over dinner, I was perhaps a little rougher than normal, and his shrieks and crying were so loud and authentic that the secret service burst into the room. This has happened four times now. We are getting a soundproof dungeon made for this activity now.

In Christ,

Heidi
xo

Michael, my port in a storm:

I have to say, I really love the work I do at Goldman Sachs. I just feel that I’m doing God’s work, that I can really help people by creating wealth and then letting some of that wealth trickle down.

Today I caught Ted putting on my lipstick while he was shaving.

I actually threw up.

You Michael, are my endless summer,

Heidi
xo

Michael, my child of God:

I cannot believe that Sarah Palin is going to be a judge on a reality TV show. Gag. I have met her, several times, and let me tell you, she is no Judge Judy. She really is a moron. Still, she has really, really lovely hair.

I touched it once at a fundraiser and it was beautiful, like God and America.

Complete in Him,

Heidi
xo
Michael, my little lamb of Christ:

I had a variation on the dream again last night.

In it, Ted was putting on his makeup and rattling on about something gross, as usual, when Sarah Palin walked into the bedroom and looked right at me. She motioned that I should follow her, which I immediately did. I was curious, attracted– sexually attracted. She led me to another room where she let me stroke her gorgeous hair and then we began to kiss. She told me it was okay, that God would love me no matter what I did, and that she knew about the homeless man Ted and I picked-up and killed on Terrorist Sex Fantasy night, but that she didn’t care. And I was so relieved, and then Donald Trump appeared, laughing, his hands so tiny, so terrible! And then I woke up screaming and crying, which of course aroused Ted AND made the dog bark.

I was almost late for work!

We killed that man so many years ago, and outside of the USA! Do you think God really notices what happens in Africa? Why does he keep sending me these dreams?

Also, Goldman Sachs is very bullish on any company heavily invested in ethanol plants.

Didn’t hear it here, though.

Walk in light,

Heidi
xo

His silence during this time had fueled all sorts of speculation, with some people believing he’d been in Switzerland to attend his girlfriend giving birth, while others thought he was ill, had power seized from him or that he might even have been assassinated.

Well, he appeared hale and hearty on Monday morning, and it turns out that Putin, utilizing the survivalist training he learned as a KGB operative, had spent the last week camping on his own. These are his private journals from that trip:

Day 1:

As spring approaches, the burning comes hard and fast.

I shudder with the unnatural urges and I know that I must, once again, remove myself to the Bialowieza Forest and make peace with the natural world.

My mind, as if fevered, returns again and again to that Sikh cab driver as he stared out his car window on Shkolnaya.

For a moment, our eyes, like magnets, found one another, and we were two beautiful, masculine animals locked to one another, our breathing becoming so urgent and alive, and in such perfect and furious unison as to be inseparable. We would to be just one, all flesh, muscle and luxuriant and mysterious beard. Ah, but this moment lived only in our hearts and minds, for we never met or spoke, just two rugged ships passing in the fading light of a tired Moscow day.

In the Bialowieza Forest there are no seductive cab drivers with strong, Indian features. No, here there are berries. Here there are cold streams in which to cleanse impurities from one’s naked body! Here there are animals to kill! Here there are so many places to unleash the rage and to let the echoes of pain take flight!!!

Day 2.

I am heterosexual.

I am heterosexual.

I am heterosexual.

I am Dear Shirtless Leader.

I am a powerful, heterosexual leader.

I am ruthless and without pity.

I am heterosexual.

Day 4

I use rocks to pound my hands. The pain reminds me of how much I love women and not men. Rocks are my friends. I will incite my people to throw them at the homosexuals when I return from my purification!

Day 5.

I spent the day in penetrating, decontaminating meditation.

The cold of the March forest felt good on my naked body. It was like being caressed and then handled roughly by the indifferent hands of an anonymous man looking to satisfy his own primal needs. I was an empty and willing vessel, a village waiting for to be led by its mayor.

I then ate two birds that I knocked out of the air using my belt. They are part of Father Russia now.

Day 6.

Today a young stag approached my camp while I made weapons from the beaks and talons of the birds I ate. This buck looked at me with both certainty and curiosity, and as a confident as a bear, walked right up to me and licked my bare chest.

I could have torn him apart with my horrible weapons, but I did not. He continued to lick– he must have been starved for nutrients and minerals—and I took his beautiful head in my powerful hands– and then he began to lick me in an intimate spot. The forest was a beautiful canopy above us and the sunlight was falling like gold coins all around, and for a moment there were no other living creatures in all of the universe, and then I twisted his neck and killed him, and there was but one living creature left, and it was then that I knew I had won and was ready to return to society.

He couldn’t be stopped, his dick had to be seen.

Of course, politicians have long been engaged in reckless, sex scandal drenched behaviour. Vladimir Putin, President of Russia and robust anti-gay activist has actually been celebrated for his aggressive sexual posturing, with his PR team strategically releasing sex room chat transcripts to the public in an effort to bolster his macho image by “gay-baiting,” a practice common in Russia, a nation now dealing with the fallout from Putin’s new anti-gay laws.

Here is one of those transcripts:

Bear60: Tell me! What is it you are wearing!!

Twink23: Black leather chaps and a wife beater. Also, I’m hard.

Bear60: You must prove this to me! I demand it!! You are submissive!!

Bear60: Ha! I am not gay and now you have sent me a photograph of your hard penis!! The joke is on you, fag-boy!!

Twink23: I like it when you talk like that, you want some more, don’t you?

Bear60: It is a nice penis you have, strong. It is a shame you waste it on men and not women!

Twink23: I would waste it on you.

Bear60: Tell me Twink, what sort of men do you like? Do you like Russian men?

Twink23: Oh, you know I do. I love the HARD consonants of the language, I love everything HARD about Russians—their lives, their hands, their dark secrets.

Bear60: Maybe it is one of your homosexual fantasies to imagine sex with a powerful Russian man who was once a killer in the KGB!!?? Perhaps that excites you Twink23!?

Twink23: Tell me more, Bear, tell me more!

Bear60: This man, he would take you roughly because he hates that you have unnatural sex! And to show you his anger and disgust he would tear off all your clothes, and it would just be the two of you in the secluded barn that had been sheltering you from the storm! Because you are weak, you would demand to be punished sexually for the things you have done and the Russian Bear would humble you with great force and beauty, and then your skin would glisten and emit a satisfied and loving rosy hue!

Bear60: Ah, Twink, I see I have tricked you into sending me another abberant photograph of you! Ha, you are a fool, but I see you must workout! A lot. I also work out, for I am a very vigorous and heterosexual man. Do you know where it might be possible for me to trick a black homosexual into sending me a picture of his penis and muscles? Maybe the three of us could chat?