THE PRESIDENT: Good afternoon. Earlier today, I concluded my visit with Russian President Vlad Pooting and his wife Loodmilla, who were kind enough to accept Laura's invitation to come sit a spell at our modest little 1,600 acre getaway in Crawford, Texas. It was a pleasant visit. The ladies kept their place and whipped up a mean tureen of armadillo borscht, while Vlad and I did a little four wheeling in my 2002 V8 F-150 King Cab. Best of all though, we dragged all you pansy journalists along while I gave my umpteenth tour of that weed-choked mud pit I call a canyon.

Now as many of you know, my handlers had hoped Mr. Pooting and I would arrive at a bilateral agreement on reducing the ginormous stockpiles of nucular rockets that our two countries still point at each another. Unfortunately, Mr. Pooting insists on adhering to the internationally-recognized standards of diplomacy and treaty, which require that any such agreement would be in writing. (Laughter) Don't I know it! And so while he was in fact willing to proceed with the reductions, I know deep down that that commie weasel also wanted me to give up on my plan to put a big old squadron of raybeam satellites in orbit. I mean, to hell with that! So what if the chances of them ever working is so remote as to be laughable. I've got another campaign to start in two years - and if General Dynamics doesn't get that contract, I can kiss my defense industry soft money goodbye! I mean, earth to Vlad! So what did I do? Well I didn't sign a damned thing - outsmarted that smarmy little Ruskie dwarf but good. Made him my own little KGB Nancy. Sure, he and Loodmilla were both smiling when they left, but let me tell you - Vlad was plenty pissed.

And so today, it is my pleasure to inform the good people of America that even in light of the events of the past several months, your administration (that's me) remains justly steadfast in its intention to do whatever the hell it wants - world opinion be damned - so long as it's smothered in a cheap veneer of folksy machismo charm and frayed Levis denim. Because we (I) won't be outsmarted - especially not any weasel commies. Like Vlad Putin. Or Al Gore. Or that fat bitch Oprah Winfra. You can count on it.

Thank you.

END 1:23 P.M. EST