Liberals are notorious for believing everything they hear from the government. Like dogs at raw meat they swallow down whole chunks of government press releases without breathing. At the risk of editorializing, I'd have to say that the only difference between dogs and liberals is that dogs digest what they take in.

The media is often painted as a bastion of liberalism, so it's worth taking a look to find out what sort of creatures these liberals might be.

Liberals are excellent at tasks that don't require the hazards of comparative thinking. As long as they stick to what was told to them in school, they excel. Best of all they can be paid mostly with stories about America during the Dreamtime. Instead of demanding cash or respect they search for this special America, rumored to be somewhere in the suburbs.

Meanwhile their employers endure the messy responsibilities of shifting around mansion-clogging amounts of money and of christening buildings with their names, duties that are far too complicated for mere liberal dreamers.

Liberals who value lasting careers in journalism have only to recognize who's The Chief, and to acknowledge that only The Chief gets to draw lines in the sand and tell stories that are believed.

The Chief also gets to remember things His way, or not at all. Best of all, He has the right to spend taxpayer money to get His word out through His disciples who have exotic names, like Ephbee Eigh, C. Aye Yay, and Dee Aiyay, to name a few. These people are really liberal journalists' pals, because they protect their careers and lighten their thinking load. Given a lifetime pass from the messy world of issues and tear gas, liberals can use their weekends to pursue The Good Life, a sort of hunting-and-gathering recreation that involves family excursions to glassy lands where shiny objects may be procured with mere promises to work harder in the future.

As an alternative, liberals who pick their facts carefully may be rewarded by The American Market with relaxation on white beaches where they are spoon-fed all sorts of delightful substances.

The only cardinal sin liberal journalists can make is to discuss non-existing qualities called "color" and "perspective". Those who have are reported to have been forced to live with people with strange skin tones who carry around an odd emotion called "anger."

Fortunately, keeping the outsiders at arm's length is relatively easy. There's a tried-and-true practice that does the trick every time: Just label those outside of Pleasantville as "terrorists".

Terrorists are easy to spot -- they confuse each other with talk about a mythical past that existed prior to The American Market. They're obviously deluded because they can't see how great The Market and The Chief are. They are hell-bent against the Chief-given freedom to put up fences. They even lie about reality itself, contradicting the fact that capitalism equals democracy. Worst of all, they spread their delusion to our children, confusing them with alien ideas about living life without free trade, another Chief-given right.

Scientists have proven that one cry of "terrorism" is all it takes to restore order. It acts like the bat-signal in the night sky. As soon as the Exotically Named Ones hear "terrorism", they spring into action, using their weapons training for everyone's good. Also, The Chief loves the Exotically Named Ones. He knows that they're always eager to do the right thing for The Market by cleansing America from the terrorist influence of ancient cultures and weird ideas.

Once The Market is temporarily made safe again for decent shareholder folk, the liberals breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that they can resume their hallowed duties of producing offspring and reporting objective American truth.