"We are here in Madison Wisconsin on a rainy Easter Sunday. Many people are in church and others who have just finished two boxes full of wine last night have not stopped throwing up yet. Alcoholics always have trouble on holiday. The enormous gas bag is approaching the docking area as the usual group of fan boys and lickspittles applaud.
It's starting to rain again; it's... the rain had (oh) slacked up a little bit. The back motors of the ship are just holding it (uh) just enough to keep it from...It's burst into flames!
Get this, Charlie; get this, Charlie! It's fire... and it's crashing! It's crashing terrible! Oh, my! Get out of the way, please! It's burning and bursting into flames and the... and it's falling on the mooring mast. And all the folks agree that this is terrible; this is the worst of the worst catastrophes in the world. Oh it's... [unintelligible] its flames... Crashing, oh! Four- or five-hundred feet into the sky and it... it's a terrific crash, ladies and gentlemen. It's smoke, and it's in flames now; and the frame is crashing to the ground, not quite to the mooring mast. Oh, the humanity!
And all the passengers screaming around here. Look they are running and screaming and lamenting what will they do without this gasbag.
I told you; it – I can't even talk to people, their friends are on there! Ah! It's... it... it's a... ah! I... I can't talk, ladies and gentlemen. Honest: it's just laying there, mass of smoking wreckage. Ah! And everybody can hardly breathe and talk and the screaming, lady, I... I... I'm sorry. Honest: I... I can hardly breathe. I... I'm going to step inside, where I cannot see it. Charlie, that's terrible. Ah, ah... I can't, I... Listen, folks; I... I'm gonna have to stop for a minute because I've lost my voice.
I hate Sarah Jessica Parker, Robin Williams, Tim Robbins, Susan Saradon, the BJ Hunnicut guy, brussel sprouts, the Boston Red Sox, commies and well, lawyers.