"anyway, i'm just dropping you big city folk this little note to say that i have thought of a ritual sacrifice that would satisfy my current appetite: ike graham's column on a platter. yours truly, maggie carpenter. p.s. -- i have inclosed a list of the gross factual misrepresentations in your article. there are fifteen."
i left four messages. you don't return my calls.
-- it's for you, ike.
journalism lesson number one. if you fabricate your facts, you get fired.
that's not nothing to do with it. you cooked this story up and you know it.
someone reliable, i'm sure. a booze- hound in a bar?
no, that's what makes you unemployed.
not anymore. i have to draw the line. she sent us this list. our lawyers say it's actionable.
i already made an appointment for later today.
i'm sorry, ike. this is permanent.
 just call me when you have it. ike, how is the story coming? is she a man-eater?
or does she pick "ngb's" -- "nice guys, but" nice guys, but i'm cheap. nice guys, but he lives with his mom.  nice guys, but he just out of prison.
fisher, let him talk.
yeah.  oh, jay.  okay.  bye. fisher, don't forget the fortune cookies.
no. no, you didn't.
i'm sorry, too. wow. that only took us between years to say.
ike's going to get married.
you always looked great in that suit.  and ike? i'm happy for you, honey.
look, he's running after her.
poor ike.
where do you think she's going?