Marrying the Russians

By Marc Dion

May 22, 2017 4 min read

The Russians appear to have been wooing President Donald Trump for a while, but Trump's outraged response to the idea that laws may have been broken indicates that there may have been a secret marriage.

Wooing is nice. Girlfriend is nice. Wife is nice, but wife is a whole different bowl of borscht.

Girlfriend you can get rid of pretty easy, like leaving a newspaper in the back seat of a taxicab. Wife is not so easy to lose, more like leaving your wallet, your house and your bankbook in the back of a taxicab. Husband is also harder and more expensive to lose than boyfriend.

Girlfriend? You show up one or two nights a week. Bring a pizza. Wife, she tells you she wants pizza, you go out and get pizza. In the snow. With your last $15, because, hey, you married her. I get sick, my wife has to go out and buy cough syrup. In the snow. With her last $8. At an all-night convenience store in a shaky neighborhood.

You have a friend who doesn't like your wife. He says bad things about her. You have to get rid of him. Ray-Ray may be the only guy in the world who will drive you to the airport, but he says bad things about your wife, and he has to go.

It wouldn't make any difference if Ray-Ray were the head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, either. He says bad things about your wife, he has to be sent home.

Right now, the Russians are so far in the White House that Ray-Ray Comey had to be sacrificed for saying bad things about our fur-hatted buddies.

In those "how to spot an abuser" pamphlets, they tell you not to go out with that man or woman who belittles you, restricts your contact with others and drives away your friends and family. It's damn good advice, too. That road only goes in one direction. It goes to the emergency room. Sometimes, it goes to the cemetery, but it stops at the emergency room first.

Next thing you know, he's listening to your phone calls, he's gotta know everything you know, and God forbid you should go out for a cup of coffee with your old buddy, the Constitution.

Right now, Donald Trump is cowering under his desk, afraid Vladimir Putin is going to come home drunk again.

And if Vlad does, you can bet Donald will put makeup on the bruise and go to work the next day like nothing happened. That's if it not the weekend, in which case Donald will put makeup on the bruise and go play golf.

The rest of us? We're the kids. We know something's wrong. In Russia, they locked the whole population in the closet and told 'em they better not cry. In America, they let us play with guns. We still know something is wrong.

Some of us think it's fine because Vladimir is white. At least Donald didn't hook up with that Black Lives Matter crowd, or a Mexican.

There's a bright spot, though.

You know those "how to spot an abuser" pamphlets? The government's gonna cut funding, so those won't be printed anymore.

Good thing, too. Those pamphlets distracted the abused from their many opportunities to be happy through total subordination of their identity. They also distracted women from the twin goals of birthin' white babies and showing their legs on Fox News.

Anyway, what you don't know can't hurt you, and what you don't have a name for isn't really there.

Thank God, because Donald doesn't want the neighbors to know what's going on. He'd be so ashamed.

To find out more about Marc Munroe Dion and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit Dion's latest book, "The Land of Trumpin" is a collection of columns, and the record of his journey through a political plague year. It is available as a paperback and an ebook for Kindle, Nook, iBooks and Google Play.


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