In the city of Moscow, there lived a communist named Rudolph. One day in late December, in what had so far been a very mild winter, the weather suddenly turned awful as Rudolph and his wife sat at their homely table drinking vodka.
"Goodness", exclaimed his wife, "snow."
"No," said Rudolph, oblivious to what fell heavily outside their window, "it's rain!"
"You may want to forestall the inevitable, but I still say it's snow," protested the wife.
"Look,", he insisted glowingly, "Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear."