When We Wrenched Our Necks last spoke with Karl Rovevich Rovesputin, the noted Republican strategist/sorceror was exulting over the 2004 Bushkin electoral triumph, sharing both his thoughts and spittle liberally. This year's interview began with Rovesputin engaged in a curious ritual involving an antique chair, a sturdy cast-iron pipe mounted a few inches from the hovel ceiling, and a length of heavy rope, which the monk slowly uncoiled as he spoke.
We Wrenched Our Necks: Was it difficult for you to watch this election from the sidelines?
Rovesputin: Nyet, nyet, I was happy in my new role as a pundit. After giving Czpresident Gyorgy every drop of my blood, sweat, tears, and neurotoxins for so many years, I needed a vacation. And so did my beard. There were spiders in there whose names I didn't even know. You keep thinking the hectic schedule's just temporary, that you'll slow down soon, and then you turn around and the little ones are all grown up. Then you can only hope you raised them right ... nyet, I was definitely ready to take some time for myself.
WWON: Did you have any contact with the McCain campaign?
Rovesputin: Not much. Shortly after the convention on Bald Mountain -- er, Minnesota, I presented the McCainites with my 19-point plan for the Czpresident's magnificent intervention in the campaign, complete with glorious speaking events, many joint photo opportunities, and numerous Tupperware and incense parties. And Black Masses -- lots of Black Masses. But from the villainous McCain I heard nothing but sniveling excuses -- something about how my plan was doomed to fail because 19 is a prime number. Never trust a boyarin! Say, are you any good with knots?
WWON: Some of the GOP's "socialist" rhetoric was very reminiscent of tactics you have employed in the past. Did you have a hand in that?
Rovesputin: One day I ran into McCain at the steam baths, where he had reported for his decennial scalp buffing and cerumen harvesting. I was having my cobwebs laundered. Although he insisted to me between grunts of pain that "the Mac is back," I saw through his bluster and realized that his terror of losing had left him thematically bereft. I suppose I might have muttered something about socialism, communism, Bolshevism, or their blighted brethren, but however the idea entered McCain's head, he clearly regarded it as his salvation. Come to think of it, I do remember numerous kisses being placed upon the hem of my robe as we departed, so da, I believe I must have influenced him.
WWON: How has the outcome of the election affected you?
Rovesputin: It is bitter, bitter borscht. The vanquished John Kerry was a verminous Trotskyite princeling, but in truth Kerry was a mere Menshevik compared to the odious Obama, who is an accursed Bolshevik deceiver of the foulest kind. This November revolution will not stand. The American people will never accept a czpresident of color if that color is RED! I will not rest until every goat across the Motherland has been sacrificed to wash away the stench of Barack the Bolshevik! Aren't Obama's kids cute, though? So adorable.
WWON: What was Sarah Palin's impact on the race?
Rovesputin: Palina is a temptress! The first time I met her, she was wearing nothing but a towel, and then she removed the towel and snapped it at my nether regions. Now I must close my eyes and count to desjat' every time I hear her name. I remind myself that there is no "orgy" in "Gyorgy" -- well there is, but not that kind. Anyway, Palina is as dim as the Siberian winter. I am told she attended six different finishing schools before finally emerging with a degree in winking. And I do not think it helped McCain for her to shout "Cowabunga!" at Joe the Serf every time she saw him.
WWON: Thank you for your insights, as always. But about that rope -- don't you think you're overreacting? Surely there will be better years ahead for you.
Rovesputin: Don't worry, it won't work. I've already tried poison, knives, Vicious-Czpresident Cheney's beloved blunderbuss, and McCain's pacemaker hooked up to the St. Petersburg city dynamo. All I've done is ruin a few cassocks. Nothing works. You know, there are days when being a deathless demon encased in a carapace of human flesh gets a little old.