Kremlin Seized By Self-Loathing, Fear After Kafkaesque Putin Press Conference

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MOSCOW – President Vladimir Putin caused a stir of introspection and despair today during a press conference to state media when he commented that Russia respected Ukraine’s wishes to maintain their current leadership in an obfuscating speech before proceeding to kill himself in an elaborate torture device, sources confirmed.

“If [Ukraine] likes their old government — fascisti cuka — then they can keep it,” President Putin stated flatly, banging his clenched fist upon the mahogany table for emphasis before going on to obliquely contradict himself in a bizarre rambling oratory. “The Russian Federation agrees with the Maidan’s desire for change, and Russia will bring about the change that is needed. Unless of course Ukraine doesn’t want to alter, then Russia will change it anyway.”

The Russian President glared about the room, nostrils flaring slightly, before going on to say that “all will become one with Russia. Let’s remember what the United States did in Afghanistan, Iraq and Libya.”

“They sit there across the pond as if in a lab running all kinds of experiments on the rats,” Putin said. “Why would they do it? No one can explain it.”

“Mr. President,” a reporter asked meekly from the back row. “What about the presence of Russian troops in the Crimea?”

“I am glad you asked, that depends what you mean by Russian,” Putin replied, casually ordering that the reporter by locked in a small windowless cell with no room to sit down for daring to crinkle a plastic water bottle in his presence. “We are all Russian in our own way, all the peoples of the world. Look at former Soviet republics. You can go to a store and buy a uniform. Were these Russian soldiers? No, they’re very well-trained self-defense forces.”

“But the issue is!” Putin cut off another reporter before he could finish speaking and began to remove his clothing, not stopping until he returned to his seat entirely naked, “Our major concern is the orgy of nationalists, and extremists and anti-Semites on the streets of Kiev! Russia has always loved the Jewish people and their rich history. Have you seen degenerate American musical Fiddler on Roof? The Jews are so happy in Russia that they are always singing and dancing! Bring in the machine!”

Obediently, a pair of uniformed soldiers removed the press table and placed a large instrument resembling a spiked printing press before the president. “It’s a peculiar apparatus,” said Putin to the reporters, gazing with a certain admiration at the device, with which he was, of course, thoroughly familiar. “This machine inscribes the notes of a man’s crime upon his skin with polished needles until he expires,” Putin exclaimed, licking his lips in orgiastic ecstasy and clambering into the device. “At the very moment of expiration there is a shine of transcendence within the Condemned Man’s eyes. Strap me in!” he roared to the guards, who until that moment had viewed the proceedings in utter horror. “I must experience this for myself!”

“What shall we set the machine to write, your Excellency?” quavered the soldier nearest to the control mechanism. All present stood hushed, a sickly pallor like that of yellow newspaper seemed to fall over the macabre scene. Putin set himself upon the leather straps that would hold him against the grooved surface of the apparatus. Myriad steel points glistened coldly above his giving flesh like stars set into the night sky. “You shall write, ‘BE JUST!’” he commanded.

According to witnesses, the soldier waved to his companion and they ran over to strap him in. The latter had already stuck out his foot to kick the crank designed to set the inscriber in motion. Then he saw the two men coming. So he pulled his foot back and let himself be strapped in. But now he could no longer reach the crank. The reporters couldn’t find it, and the soldiers were determined not to touch it. But that was unnecessary. Hardly were the straps attached when the machine already started working. The bed quivered, the needles danced on his skin, and the harrow swung up and down. The nearest guard had already been staring for some time before he remembered that a wheel in the inscriber was supposed to squeak.

Everything was quiet, without the slightest audible hum. The soldier could discover no sign of the promised transfiguration. What all the Condemned Men had found in the machine, Putin had not. His lips were pressed firmly together, his eyes were open and looked as they had when he was alive, his gaze was calm and convinced. The tip of a large steel needle had gone through his forehead.