I always wonder how relationships like that start:
Putin: Hey, you mind if I buy you a drink?
Kabaeva: Sure, I guess.
Putin: I'm Vladimir, by the way.
(points to the dozen bulky security guys in dark suits)
You mind if these guys sit with us?
Kabaeva: Uhhhh... ok...
Putin: I have to ask - did you recognize me when I came into the bar? I thought maybe you looked over and smiled, and it could have been you recognized me from on TV. Not that that's a problem or anything, just wondering!
Kabaeva: No, sorry. Are you famous or something?
Putin: Seriously - you don't recognize me? (hums a few bars of the Russian national anthem). Think... politics.
Kabaeva: Nope. I've got nothing here.
Putin: (thinks for a minute, then has an idea) Boom! Boom! Die Chechnyns! Die die die! NOW do you know who I am?
Kabaeva: Still no idea. Does it matter? Buy me another drink and you can be Stalin if that makes you happy.
Putin: (goes all glum-faced, then brightens up). Do you know I have a Mercedes limousine with cocaine filling all the ashtrays?
Kabaeva: (grabs her purse and jacket) Let's go!
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Better educated sadness than oblivious joy.
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