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FROM FRENCH FRIES TO RUSSIAN POLITICS. ARKANSAS FIRM MINISTERS TO MOSCOW'S NEEDS

From taking orders for Big Macs and Happy Meals in Snakebite Arkansas to giving orders for the bombing of civilians in small Caucasian republics - Buford Roscoe has come a long way since the day he first walked through the doors of Jobski's , a revolutionary new employment agency, just behind Bojangles Restaurant in downtown Snakebite.
And Buford is just one of the dozens of success stories Sergei Ripov, owner of Jobski's can point to in the short history of his company. Explains Sergei:
"Jobski's is the only temporary employment agency in the United States specializing in the placement of Russian Prime Ministers." Sergei sees no end to the current upswing in demand from Moscow for top politicos. But just what makes a good Russian Prime Minister?
"Experience of sucking up to bloated dipsomaniacs is a definite plus," says Sergei, "but mostly we just look for an aptitude for sitting around in large, well appointed offices and screwing the general populace. Unfortunately, we don't get many lawyers applying."

"That's Lenny. They brought him out to parades on Red Square for over eight years after Brezhnev died. Nobody spotted the difference. In fact, it was Lenny that we negotiated the START 2 treaty with."
I ask Buford what it's like being Prime Minister of the world's largest country.
"It's not bad. The salary's in roubles , so I was actually making more at McDonalds, but the fringe benefits are pretty good, including an indefinite vacation after only a few days. And every few months Boris gets a check from the IMF, and we all head over Red Square to the Sputnik Club. There's a Hungarian Gypsy girl there called Magda, and for six or seven million bucks she'll let you….."
The phone rings. Buford answers:
"Oh hi, Boris." Buford listens for a while and then turns the receiver in my direction. "No wonder they call him Yell-tsin, huh?" He turns the receiver back to his ear. "Yeah, well, you can take your job and stuff it where the sun don't shine, you fat stiff!"
Russia has lost another Prime Minister. Buford looks at me, grinning. "He can fire me, but I've still got the key!"
My heart skips a beat at the thought of  thousands of nuclear missiles being launched at the USA.  "You mean the key? The key to oblivion."
"Yup. I'm going to empty the bastard's liquor cabinet."

Back in the former USSR, Buford shows me around the government nerve center in the Kremlin. I pause next to a life size, though not very lifelike dummy of a man with bushy eyebrows and exotically simian features. Buford explains:

STOP PRESS.
This just in. Yeltsin's abrupt resignation, occurring shortly after this article was written surprised many.  Not us. We see a direct link between the disappearance of the key to the Kremlin liquor cabinet and Mr. Yeltsin's loss of enthusiasm for the job.