MAYDAY!! Mayday!! Siberia Sux the Pink Stuff!! The Yaks Rack My Chops!!

Does anybody really give a tweat?

I hate to be unprofessional, but I am colder than a well-digger's bootie. Wahhh!!

I am rowing like there's no tomorrow, adrift in the Bering Straits heading (in a remarkable display of hopeless wish fulfillment) for my Alaskan homeland.

Well, Alaska's not exactly my homeland, but it beats the dickens out of the Trans-Siberian territories. After my generous attempt to establish a Greater Siberia Children's Health Network, the local Yaks reward me with a rowboat, an oar, and a dysfunctional GPS that keeps telling me to turn left at the third light in Talladega in a keyed-up, pressured voice that sounds suspiciously like Dale Jr's during a really BAD pitstop.

For a brief exciting time, I was on a Siberian Roll with all the Yak kiddos. The locals and I built a huge ice block Center for Siberian Children and Youth Health, complete with a DVD player that rolled continuous loops of SpongeBib YakPants dubbed in Siberian. Mesmerizing!!

Then I parlayed my contacts, using the Clinton juggernaut and the head of Obama's Siberian TARP Relief Fund to weasel a monthly shipment of cases of Walmat-made generic amoxicillin and truckloads of old, out-of-date thimerosal-laced vaccines.

Man!! Those kids ate it up!! They went ape over the Amox-at the end of my reign, Amox was the preferred topping for snow ice cream and a great additive to Yak Krispies cereal for preschool brunch.

Plus the parents really bought into my Immunize Now and Forever program. Every time the Yak rugrats hit my exam room-Boom!!-they got a shot of out-of-date but still extremely effective immunizations. In fact, I sent the Clintons and Nan Pelosi a memo documenting that we would be good with out-of-date nonthimerosal vaccines-keeping them outside in the Siberian permafrost was way more effective than any little dab of mercury-flavored preservative.

But, as fate would have it, I sort of overstepped my boundaries. I initially relied on standard fee-for-service reimbursement, which meant I had a boatload of seal-oil vats and caribou carcasses hanging in my ice-block mansion.

These were excellent sources of payment from the Yakster point of view. But, from my pragmatic can-I-use-it-to-buy BunBars at LeeRoy's Five and Dime mindset, this made it difficult to monetize my receivables.

So I proposed to my inside contacts on the Yak Circle of Elders what I believed to be an excellent vehicle for ensuring my services on a long-term basis. What better way than to pay me a percentage of monthly Yak GazProm royalties in advance, so all Yak kiddos, regardless of race, religious beliefs, or financial ability to pass my permafrost wallet biopsy-make that fiduciary standards-would not be denied Texas-quality kiddo healthcare.

Well, I guess I said the secret word, except this was "secret" in a very bad way. The Elders were, to put it mildly, peeved beyond words. One Elder smartass had the audacity to compare my proposal to nothing more than a low-rent, inferior-quality Cignoid HMO. His comment unleashed the floodgates. I heard nothing but Yak disparagement of my medical care for the next hour. Believe me, Siberians can trash talk with the best Brooklyn has to offer-everything from rampant dental caries (have they never heard of flossing??) to my wicked, wanton overall SpongeBib pediatric influence was laid at my ice step. Apparently, their kids were opting out of caribou hunts to catch the latest adventures of SpongeBib YakPants and his frosty sidekick Yatrick on Tundra TV.

But the final coupe de caribou came from this man-faced Mrs Yak (and, yes, she looked like she was in desperate need of a Gilletteski and a can of BurmaShave) squatting in the back of the room who actually had the Trans-Siberian gall to bring up the A-word!! Yep. She asked how many innocent young Yak bambinos would end up with autism cause of the "toxic" metallic chemical preservative I had added to their vaccines. Damn you Google!! Ungrateful parents are just the pits!!

Needless to say, I was shocked, stunned, and totally defenseless against this Siberian tsunami of baseless outrage and thankless dissatisfaction.

Interestingly enough, before sending me on my Bering way, the Elders confiscated my supply of Amox and vintage vaccines, telling me in no uncertain terms that I was truly no longer needed in Yakville. The Elders had gone behind my back and accepted a very lowball bid from Walmat Siberia to run my former Ice Clinic at much cheaper rates (they said these last 3 words with a look of dismissive scorn on their face) to include a well-trained pediatric midwife for staffing the Walmat Center for Siberian Health.

So I am truly adrift in a sea of frigid cold and icebergs, hoisted on my own icy, mercury-tainted petard. I have nothing but my Lands End wooly bear PJs (available in Rugged Brown or Steamy Sage-I opted, of course, for the manly Browns) and my meager buyout in the skiff with yours truly.

Wait a minute. Did I say buyout? Well, I have my dear friend Scooter Libby to thank for that one. He told me, before he started his--uhh--unpardoned--and unrepentant-incarceration, that no contract was truly complete unless it had an outrageous, bulletproof buyout clause that "far exceeded your value but made your stay on the frozen tundra worth your time."

But, quite frankly, both my wooly brown PJs and that Scooter-driven buyout are useless out here in the completely shipless Bering Freeway. I am twittering every damn contact on my friends' list to call me back ASAP/STAT-like really, really right now (or better yet just send a Coast Guard ice-breaker), and I haven't had one damn tweat from any of those worthless slackers. Not even Scooter-which truly breaks my frigid heart, as I thought we had a very strong, steel-bonded-by-tough-times-we-survived-together friendship.

However, in the midst of imminent gloom and a frosty demise, I have to chuckle at Walmat's slick sales skills. Pediatric midwife? There is no such creature. As the Yaksters will discover sooner than later, midwives deliver babies but have no training whatsoever in delivering the high-quality healthcare those Yak kiddos have grown to expect from. Yours Truly, the former Baby Doctor Supreme of Grand Siberia.