DUH DUH. DUH DUH, DUH DUH. DUH DUH, DUH DUH, DUH DUH, DUH DUH... Y'all know me, how I earn a livin'. Well, not a living, chump change really, but my fingernails on the blackboard should have convinced you of my seriousness anyway. I be a roving hunter of media buffoons. Mine's a small craft, but I am hella mediagenic in this grizzled guise of a crusty fisherman. Once I performed the works of the immortal Bard and couldn't buy a bag of farts, but we'll not speak of that.

Some bigtime operators are incensed that the White Whale Limbaugh is under attack by David Brock and a flotilla of Congressmen. Let me scratch my fake beard and speak plain: I don't like to see no creature ganged up on, and like it still less when the power of the state is invoked. I don't truck with no Fairness Doctrine. I am a simple man, as shown by the jaunty angle of my cap and my guttural dialect.

But when such powerful media voices rise to defend the mighty Leviathan even as their own junior death squads continue their merciless siege of one lowly soldier who spoke ill of their beloved Iraq occupation -- well, I have to spit evocatively over the side of my boat. They have no call to be cryin' foul. Their Mighty Wurlitzer has already made the seas run red with blood. I'll not put on a lifejacket again.

Farewell and ado to ya, fair Spanish ladies. Farewell and ado to ya, ladies of Spain. [writhes, spits blood] Yeeeargh! Yeeeargh!