Sanctions

I have an announcement to make.

It’s pretty important.

We’ve all been following events that have taken place recently in Ukraine. My heart breaks to see such bloodshed, such wanton aggression. War is really bad, wherever it happens, whether it’s in Lebanon, Yemen, Vietnam, Montana, or Eastern Europe. I hate it when people kill each other.

And so, my friends, I am taking action.

This week, the government of the United States—my government—imposed sanctions against the adult daughters of President Vladimir Putin. The UK followed suit.

Well. Guess what.

I, too, am following suit.

That’s right. On this morning, April 8, 2022, I am hereby sanctioning Putin’s daughters.

I am sanctioning the shit out of them.

I will not invite them over for congenial meals and conversation. They’re not welcome at my house.

They can’t come over to drink chilled glasses vodka, or to eat a traditional Russian soup that is known as “schi.”

I understand that lunch is considered the most important meal of the day in Russia.

I think lunch is great, too. But I won’t be having it with either Katerina Tikhonova or Maria Vorontsova. Because Putin is their dad.

Listen. I know. This is no small matter.

I know what’s at stake, here! I know all the reasons why it might be better to invite that pair of sisters over and not sanction them.

I know that if they came to my house to eat kotlety, or beef stroganoff (or seitan stroganoff), I could try to get through to them. I could tell them what their father is risking with this war of aggression, this enormous act of violence that has birthed so many smaller violent acts against soldier and civilian alike.

War is really, really bad, I could tell them. And I could ask them, Ladies, please, could you have a word with your father, the president of your country? Could you try to get through to him? Could you deliver a message from me that says, “Stop. Just stop?”

Well. Yes. I could do that.

But I won’t do it.

I mean, for one thing, I doubt whether it would be an effective move. Even if I could convince Putin’s daughters to end the war, that’s not the same as convincing Putin. And you have to draw the line somewhere.

There comes a time in life when you must impose sanctions on women. When if you don’t do that you have failed your country, you have lost sight of morality, you have fallen short of upholding what’s good about the human race.

So that’s it. Putin’s kids can’t come to my house. I don’t care how hungry they are for a good lunch, or how eager they are to connect with me, how long it’s been since they could, you know, really just sit down with someone and talk, like, really open up, and feel like someone is listening to them and cares about their problems, wants for them only what is best. I don’t care how badly they want to see my collection of Library of America books; I don’t even care if they know the secret to making my basement cat less afraid of everything.

The die is cast. The sanctions are in place.

May god have mercy on us all.