"Bring your newest Kalashnikov, Vladdy boy, and we'll have at it," President Palin urges her Russian language interpreter to tell Putin.  Palin's voice is full of irony, but daring and provoking.  Condi doesn't disappoint in her translation. Oh, by the way, Condi is of course the distinguished Condolezza Rice.  Condi's taken the lesser job because she can't imagine ever leaving the White House.  And Palin is practical. No sense in letting go of the only African American woman fluent in Russian left in the United States.  In fact, Condi is the first African American Palin has ever met in person.

"Oh yeah? You want a piece of me?" Vladimir Putin yells into the phone, incredulous, punching the stale Kremlin air with his mighty fists.

"Come on you coward commie, pinko communist! I can't wait to see what you're made of,"  President Palin yells in her own style; a mouth full of air, her pursed lips stopping the airflow, fury steaming her smarmy-broad eyeglasses.  A thick polar bear skin is draped around her broad neck, but the fur is green.  Unfortunately there are no more polar bears in the US, so this one came from China, where the only polar bears have to swim in an algae infested pond that turns their fur green.

"So you're willing to go mano a mano with me?" Putin says incredulous, reaching for the vodka bottle, which he tips to his lips and drains in smooth throat bulging gulps. He lets out a big burp, but he gentlemanly covers the phone at just the right time.

"Me? No. I'm pregnant again, with septuplets this time. Plus I have to prepare for Willow's wedding, my fourteen year old.  But Dickey (Cheney) here's dusting off his blunderbuss."

Click.