I’m not sure who I’m looking at (a pampered puppet Stalinist, an oligarch’s wet dream?) So bad an actor you can’t tear your eyes away. How many encores to get him off the world’s stage… Is that a sniper, nestled in the Gods?
Face as waxed as the blond-wooded table where he sits – a titan of Botox – and stares; blink and you’ll miss him blinking. The puffy hands of a truculent child almost clutching the edges, any second now, he’ll bring down a clenched fist to ram home his point. Too skilled a performer, dorogoy, for so egregious a move.
I’m not sure who I’m looking at (a pampered puppet Stalinist, an oligarch’s wet dream?) So bad an actor you can’t tear your eyes away. How many encores to get him off the world’s stage… Is that a sniper, nestled in the Gods?
Cindy Patrick
30/9/2022 01:22:34 pm
David, your words came on like bullets to me. (I thought please let there be a sniper...and in the gods) You did a lot in this piece!
David Milner
2/10/2022 08:53:19 am
Thank you for these thoughts, Cindy. 30/9/2022 04:29:03 pm
Wow, David, your word painted picture here is really layered and deep. Is that the scope of a rifle I see neatly tucked into the corner near the frame?
David Milner
2/10/2022 08:50:17 am
Come let me clutch thee. My thanks, Jim B.
Sue Clayton
2/10/2022 05:17:01 am
A pot noodle of praise for this engrossing tale of an imminent last encore.
David Milner
2/10/2022 08:55:23 am
Bless you, Sue C.
Avis Lang
5/10/2022 10:25:50 pm
Vivid!! Is that Trump I see sitting across the table? Perhaps the sniper has an extra bullet. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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