Yanukovych’s letters to Santa Claus

Dear Santa, Sorry for writing so late, but I’ve been as busy as a canary in a coal mine and haven’t had the time to get my personal life in order. And I gotta tell ya, Big Guy, this job stinks as bad as methane. Why didn’t anybody tell me back in 2004 or in 2010, huh? I mean, like, the wife couldda said, “No way, Jose, stick to your coal mines and don’t mess with no country that’s the size of France.” Heck, Santa, I don’t even know where France is! I figure it’s the size of Ukraine, which is pretty big, but is it as big as the Donbas? See what I gotta do in this freakin’ job? They got me learning geography and stuff and all I wanna do is ride my copter and shoot bison. Is that too much to ask, Santa? Is it? Course it ain’t! I figured this country would be, well, you know, sorta like a Lego set. You put the pieces together and then you take ’em apart and the wife and the boys would say, “Swell job, pops, where’d you learn engineering?” But no! The people here wanna play with my Legos! And now the Rada is full of guys tellin’ my boys how to run the show. Democracy used to be so easy. That bald fella in the Rada used to tell ’em to raise their hands and they raised their hands. He told ’em to vote and they voted. It was neat, Santa, like a glass of vodka. And now the joint’s crawlin’ with democreeps and this big boxer fella who thinks that, just because he can land a punch or two, he can be president of a country the size of France. Santa, where the hell is that place anyway? And is it really the size of Ukraine?

Exhausted,
Viktor