Iowahawk has a tribute to Dan Rather--the final chapter of the career of Inspector Dan:

Luckily, the tubby guard at Hinderaker's bank was asleep, and I was able to quietly duckwalk past him to the elevator bank. When I arrived at his penthouse offices, Hinderaker and Johnson were sharing a nasty chuckle, as they added another cup into their birdseye maple trophy case.

"I thought I smelled some fried MSM bacon," laughed Johnson. "Why don't you move along to to the Old Discredited Anchorman's Home, Rather? We've got a testimonial dinner tonight."

"Yeah, Danno, it's a little invite-only shindig called Blog of the Year," sneered Hinderaker. "Black tie, class all the way. Now scram, because we're due at Gingiss for a tux fitting."

"Why you filthy, non-journalism degreed..."

Something snapped, and I ran headlong across Hinderaker's sumptuous oriental rug, ready to unleash my fury on the two laughing blog thugs. I soon found out that the carpet was not fixed to the polished parquet underneath, and I went sliding across the room and slammed into a bookcase. I heard birds as a 16-pound volume of the U.S. Banking Code beaned me hard on the head. Momentarily dazed, I stumbled backward, flipping over Hinderaker's desk and lodging my head in his deadly trashcan.

"Ha ha! The funny man is funny."

I was blinded by the trashcan, but I knew that pipsqueak voice anywhere. It was Gnat, Fargo Jimmy's pintsized gun moll.

Gnat should have been wielding a fork.