Dear President Vladimir Putin, I'm so sorry that I was not your mother.

You would get so many raspberries after your bath.

Real funny ones on your little Putin belly.

You'd laugh so much you'd shake like a bowl of Putin jelly.

If I had been your mother, I'd let you stay up late to watch 90 day fiancee.

You wouldn't understand it, but we'd have fun anyway.

If I were your mother, I would rely upon you heavily for likes on Instagram before you

were evil, which would build your self esteem and you'd say, I like myself the way I

am.

If I were your mother, you wouldn't have to invade Ukraine.

Instead we'd splash and puddles in the driveway in the rain.

Perhaps it's not too late.

We can spare the world such pain.

I'm over and baked cookies.

We'll use up all the sugarcane.

I'm here for all you teachers and teamsters, you farmers and charmers, rock and roller,

holy roller, push and stroller, pro-boulder with an abscess muller.

So I sick about having kids.

I know the names picked out are going to be doughnut and the gold in the hen.

I know what you're saying.

How do you know they're going to be girls?

Shoot her or later, gentlemen, you will eat your words.

...