I'm Salutin' Putin

When I got home from work yesterday I was feeling kinda blue, not to mention super rumbly in my tumbly. So I started hunting and gathering (more gathering than hunting) for sustenance in our gourmet kitchen . . . .

only to discover that all we've got are some stupid Ritz crackers and cold(war)cuts. Which begs the question:

If you're blue and you don't know where to go to

Why don't you go where fashion sits . . . . . . (wait for it people)

Putin on the Ritz.

Different types who wear a day coat, pants with stripes

And cutaway coat, perfect fits . . . . (everybody with me now)

Putin on the Ritz!

I gotta say while they tasted kinda oligarchy, they weren't that Vlad! See what I did there? 'Cause his name is Vladimir Pu . . . . . never mind.

And, because I couldn't resist

A Boot Scootin Putin . . . . . .ZIIIIIIIING!

P.S. How awesome could this all be if I actually KNEW how to photoshop?

Answer: very