In this version of the musical, Henry Higgins, er, Henry Kissinger trains Eliza Doolittle, er, Sarah Palin, to dance political Cha Cha at the upcoming Debate Ball.
Kissinger's goal is to cause the inexperienced woman to look sophisticated and worldly. She has memorized 200 flash cards in anticipation of her first training session with Kissinger.
It's a cool, quiet afternoon somewhere in the middle of the country. The two principals sit across from each other in a cavernous grand salon, richly furnished. Photos of the McCain family litter every surface. The secret service and McCain's advisers stand ten deep. A butler stands rigid by the door awaiting orders. McCain and Cindy are taking their power nap in another wing of the mansion. A pair of large purebred Labrador retrievers are asleep at Kissinger's feet.
"I'm sorry you had to put up with the Pakistani President making passes at you last week, dear," Kissinger mumbles, a la Darth Vader, "but you handled it very well. You giggled like a teenager. That was excellent. My men are handling AsifAsif Ali Zardari, that boorish Pakistani, so don't you worry that pretty head of yours. I guess he's still unsteady, mourning the murder of his wife Benazir. That's a lesson for you. Pakistanis mourn differently."
"Oh, thank you Dr. Kissinger. My Sweet Jesus knows you too had to put up with Golda Meir's advances, when you were known as "Henry The Kiss". I heard she kept trying to fix you tea and cookies."
"That was quite a time, talk about dating." Kissinger shakes his head, reminiscing. "I had the entire Hollywood A List in my little black book. Jill, Shirley, Candice and even Marlo. I had so much power, women, and even men, dropped at my feet like flies. They still do, believe it or not. You should've seen Hank Paulson last week."
"Didn't you say that power is the ultimate aphrodisiac? No wonder Todd's always chasing after me like a frisky puppy. And speaking of dogs, I love it that you called Indira Gandhi a bitch," Palin shouts in a shrill voice.
Kissinger grimaces, and then adjusts his hearing aid. "Sweetie, about that voice of yours. Keep it low as it hurts my ears. It's not your fault; I know what is like to sound annoying. The media has been after me for years, criticizing my heavy German accent, and the fact I never give an interview. I hate the media. They should know not every German can sound like Heidi Klum. But enough about me, tell me what you've learned thus far."
Palin rises to her feet and clears her throat as she does every Sunday, when she gives the State of the State address to her church congregation. She pauses for a moment to collect her thoughts, facing Kissinger. "It's about putting government back on the side of the people," she says clenching her fists, "and that has much to do with foreign policy and national security issues. Energy is a foundation of national security. It's that important. It's that significant, because energy is from God. God is energy. God is my savior. God bless America…." Palin breaks into gospel song.
Kissinger falls asleep.