Vladimir Putin has visions of being Peter the Great, or maybe Stalin. His attempt to recreate the Soviet Union by inhaling nearby former mostly unwilling partners in that unholy, murderous union, will ultimately fail. The Russian bear of Vladimir Putin raises its head, sniffs the air, and tries mightily to make us believe he is the Golden Horde. And yet, when looked at more closely, the bear is revealed to be a wolfhound pup, wanting nothing more than to lie on its back and have it’s belly rubbed.

He turns his eye unto the south
A tasty morsel there
A quick inhale into his mouth
And no one seems to care
Ossetia now is no more
Just one more near abroad
A quick inhale, run up the score
The West is less than awed
He eyes the morsels to the west
Crimea, where ‘tis said
At Balaclava laid to rest
Are many British dead
But that was then and this is now
The time of hope and change
A time for hoping that somehow
Though ‘twould be passing strange
The Russian bear will change its ways
And walk, like man, upright
And yet, alas, the bear still stays
A doggie who will bite