Thursday, May 1, 2025
Column 684
Trump vs. Putin at the Great Darts Summit
It was the showdown no one saw coming: Donald J. Trump versus Vladimir Putin in a darts duel at a Moscow dive bar named The Red Bullseye (no relation to the energy drink, though the bartender was suspiciously twitchy. (More on that later).
They met under flickering lights amidst high tension. The crowd? A strange mix of KGB agents, former reality show contestants, and a few confused diplomats who thought they were attending a peace summit – instead they got a free bowl of borscht and front-row seats to geopolitical absurdity.
Trump arrived first, entourage in tow, sporting a “Make Dartboards Great Again” windbreaker and gold aviators, holding darts bedazzled with “TRUMP” in rhinestones.
“I’m the best darter. Everyone says so. Better than Lincoln. Maybe better than God,” he told reporters. Putin’s tough – we respect that – but many people, the best people, say, ‘Sir, you have the greatest aim. Probably could’ve been a sniper. Better than Lee Harvey Oswald, frankly.’ True story.” 
Moments later, Putin thundered in on horseback. Shirtless. Oiled. Darts forged from old tank parts. He dismounted with a backflip onto the bar, flexed once, and shook Trump’s hand with the force of a hydraulic press.
“Let’s play,” he whispered.
Opening Shots (Vodka and Darts)
Trump let his first dart fly: it wobbled through the air like a drunken moth and thunked into the 5. He fist-pumped triumphantly and did the Village People dance. “Perfect. Right where I wanted it. Nobody throws like me. Maybe Babe Ruth.”
Putin, dead eyed as ever, didn’t blink: t20, t20, t20. He sipped vodka from a hollowed-out Fabergé egg and said nothing. The room clapped once. It was unclear whether out of awe or fear.
Cold War Games: Shenaniganski Edition
Trump, sensing trouble, employed a little psychological warfare. “Vlad, buddy, let’s spice it up: Winner gets Greenland, loser gets Rudy Giuliani. Tremendous deal.”
Putin smirked – a micro-expression so faint it registered on seismographs in Japan.
“I already have Greenland,” he said flatly.
Trump laughed nervously, unsure if it was a joke or a threat. He then threw a dart directly into a framed photo of Lenin. The jukebox screeched to a halt. Somewhere, a babushka fainted into a tray of pierogi.
As the game heated up, so did the cheating accusations. Trump claimed the dartboard was “too Soviet.” Putin accused Trump’s darts of being filled with “capitalist helium.” At one point, Trump demanded to be allowed to use Ivanka keep score, but she had suspiciously left the bar – nobody seemed to know where she was.
In a bold move, Trump attempted to call time-out to check Truth Social for “dart fraud.”
A bit later, Trump attempted a distraction – waving a cheeseburger near Putin’s face mid-throw. Putin blinked once, released, and hit another t20. Trump scowled. “I think that’s an illegal throw. I’ve read the Dart Constitution – probably Article Two or something.”
At one point, Trump insisted on a commercial break to sell limited-edition “Dart Force One” hats. He sold six – to himself.
The Finale
It all came down to the final dart. Trump needed d16 to win. He squinted. He aimed. He threw. He missed. The dart ricocheted off the board, bounced off the ceiling fan, and lodged itself firmly into the bartender’s forehead. Trump raised both fists in celebration. “Landed right where I wanted. Brilliant strategy. Nobody understands darts like I do.”
In the end, Putin, stoic as ever and with a falcon on his shoulder, blindfolded himself with a Soviet flag, threw backward over his shoulder, and nailed the d10 – all while downing a protein shake made from bear spleens and raw plutonium.
Aftermath
Silence.
Then, slowly, Trump began clapping for himself. He smiled and leaned into the mic: “Listen folks, I let him win. Very generous of me. Major diplomatic achievement.” Later that night, Trump reversed himself and declared victory anyway, awarding himself the “Purple Dart” for bravery in the face of unfair dartboards.
The men shook hands. Trump gave Putin a MAGA hat. Putin gave Trump a “Learn Russian or Else” CD set and a half-eaten turnip.
In the end, world peace wasn’t achieved, but at least the bar tab was paid, the bartender survived (barely), and a second Cold War was avoided – thanks to tungsten tips, tactical cheeseburgers, and unrelenting egos.
As they stumbled into the snowy Moscow night, Trump continued to mumble about “fraud on the dartboard” and wondered to where Ivanka had mysteriously disappeared. Putin, while quietly pleased to have won, seemed preoccupied – and in a hurry.
Was he in a rush to launch a missile? Apparently.
Epilog: Lest there be any doubt as to the “real” winner…
The next morning, Putin woke up next to Ivanka.
Trump awakened beside Rudy Giuliani.
