MAYDAY!! Mayday!! Neeman's Fries Todd's Tostadas!! Todd to Rod: Gimme my Freaking Seat!! Gonzo Gets His Gitmo Freak On!! Angler Tells JoeyB to Take a 12 Gauge Hike!!

I write this from the frozen tundra of Northwest Siberia, having miraculously survived the crash landing of the Sarah Pee. Wily Willy Clinton landed the flaming drone/deathtrap like a veteran AirEstonia pilot in the HOV lane of the Siberian SuperHighway. Unfortunately, we are living on yak urine and this gritty gruel the locals call the Denski Grand Slamski.

They are totally pissed at the three of us cause not only did Willy land right on top of their brand new Haiku Hummer, which was a special gift from the "guys at GasProm," but that "caribou" Wayne LePeeP bagged was half of a specially tagged pair of His and Her Siberian Yaks, which had been promised and sold by Neemans from their chi-chi extravaganza Christmas catalog to the Grand Sultan of Dubai. Wayne had literally shot the wings off their cash cow.

Shivering does not begin to do justice to the shaking and baking that describes our efforts to ward off total frostbite. But Willy saved the day-his day anyway-by some deft negotiations with the locals. He promised them that his Foundation would donate the land and dollars to build them a Grand Siberian Casino that would pay for the new Bering Childrens Hospital, which yours truly had been sent to staff. Meanwhile, he would make sure that Todd was extradited to the Gitmo Prison, where he would be appropriately tortured and waterboarded by the most ruthless proponent of terrorist, frontier justice-his friend and fellow Tejano-Al Gonzo Gonzales.

All this in exchange for Willy's immediate exit visa so that he could ensure Todd reached Gitmo in one piece. Through the miracle of Willy's iFone, he talked Neemans into sending their corporate jet to pick up Todd and himself so that Neemans could launch their internal investigation into how Todd talked Big Wayne into taking out their precious He-Yak.

"Doc, look at it this way. You are kinda like the sacrificial Yak in the deal. Think of it as your higher calling to serve the huge need these poor kids have for a ten-day course of the pink stuff."

"PINK STUFF?"

"You know what I'm talking about-amoxacillun or something like that. Those kids have terrible looking green goopy stuff coming out of their noses-that can't be good for their cognitive enrichment and mental fortitude."

"What kind of bologna are you talking about? There isn't a school or a CVS within 500 miles of here. Besides, Mr. Bill, you don't treat runny noses with the pink stuff-amoxicillin or any other antibiotic."

"Come on Doc-in Arkansas we used the pink stuff plus a big ole shot of Bicillin, which was one painful wad in the butt by the way, to keep our kids healthy and gaining weight like there's no tomorrow."

We were standing on the runway-which was actually the now shutdown HOV lane of the SuperHighway-waiting for the Neemans jet to land and swoop Willy and Todd away from "these weird local cowboys who don't even speak English." As Todd so aptly described them. Apparently, Todd was just as eager as Mr Bill to "get the hell out of Dodge" because he had been receiving these mysterious text messages from the Governor of Illinois-Rod Blukovich, according to Todd. Rod was offering Todd his very own seat in the Senate if Todd could come up with enough leftover SarahP campaign funds to equal a minimum of 500,000 dollars.

Todd was really excited cause, for once, "I can get to have my very own Neemans Select Charge Card--with no limit!!"

I couldn't resist: "So has WillyC mentioned anything to you about Gonzo and Gitmo and stuff like that once yall evacuate the premises?"

"Heck yeah. But you know-that's just WillyC blowing smoke in the name of good ole American diplomacy. Plus I told him I'd match anything I gave to the Rodster with an equal contribution to his Foundation. I just love politics-it's like the ultimate win-win kinduva deal."

"What? So I'm part of a big scam to get you two dirtbags out of Siberia unscathed and cozy warm while I take the total deadly heat when these guys figure out there's no Grand Casino and not a whiff of decent health care from your friendly helpless Baby Doctor?"

"Hey Doc-we're not leaving you high and dry. Angler-the honorable once and forever VP of our Great Country-has donated 10 cases of amoxicillin and 5 cases of slitely out of date Treeamimic CST (Can'tStopThe) Cough and Cold as a token of Dick Cheney's love for the children of Northwest Siberia. America is going to bat for ya, Doc."

"What do you mean-forever VP? His term ends with George W's."

"Nope. Not so much. Angler signed this special Executive Order making him VP for Life. And since he's part of the Executive Branch-but not really-he makes up his own rules as he goes along. I think JoeyB's gonna be real pissed when he finds out there's only room for one VP for Life in the White House, or wherever Dick decides to hang out for the next 4 years. I'll tell him you said Muchas Gracias and Bienvenidos for sending you the tools to restore health and law and order to the poor, deprived Yaks-I mean children-of Greater Siberia.

As he finished this last parting gutpunch, the Neeman's jet landed amidst a cacophony of weird-sounding horns and semiautomatic weapons being fired into the air. A final tribute to "2 great Americans and the hope of great gambling and healthcare they have brought to the land of the Ultimate Yaks" was read by the tribal guru-Mayor Yak as Todd so eloquently labeled him-and the Neeman's silver Learjet majestically rose into the faintest hint of Northern lights twinkling above my newfound home away from the Compound.

I must admit I got a little misty, wondering if it was a capital offense in Yakland to dismember and burn beyond recognition Baby Doctors who don't deliver on the sincere and heartfelt promises of American diplomacy.