MAYDAY! Mayday! Penal Implant! Penal Implant! Where is Barry Schteck-Lawyer for Children and Doctors Without Assets (DWA)-when I really need him? My fellow Attica inmates have said some really nasty, vile things about me, my mom, and the circumstances surrounding my birth.

Yet I have no allies and no way to shake the disastrous nickname they have tattooed to a body part that shall remain anonymous.

But, I ask you, what kind of evil, sick mind came up with my new handle-Penal Implant? "PI-you're the man! Now do my laundry, and make sure you fold my PJs right this time."

I blame Dr Phil for literally sending me to penal Hell. That whole grandiose Web source-Dr TROT's Health Bog-really ticked Dr P off because I was siphoning off the chubbette customers who wanted to visit his Dr P Seven Step Weight Management Plan site. If you thought Dr P was tough with teenagers who turn tricks to fund their PS2 game collection-Consumer Report's Current Top 3: Manhunt The Final Cut, Wrath Unleashed, and, my personal favorite, Goblin Commando: Unleash the Horde!-then you can only imagine the virtual vengeance that spurred him to new heights of unrestrained, primal, booty-kicking bloodlust in prosecuting this peon pediatrician who was "choking off his cash flow."

I was shocked to learn that I was considered an Internet felon punishable with 2 to 5 in the friendly confines of my new home away from home-Attica. My court-appointed legal eagle-the above-mentioned Barry Schteck-decided that I should plead guilty and install myself as a martyr to the cause of Internet freedom: "If the charge fits, then you must convict the Guilty Dawg." And the jury followed his instructions to the MAX.

As he told me while I was being handcuffed, "Besides, you are a DWA, and, as a wayward indigent pediatrician with essentially no legal insurance, I am sure you would support the allocation of my precious temporal resources to those pediatric patients with parents who have fee-for-service legal insurance and a net worth of greater than or equal to seven figures."

By the way, despite his brief 10-minute appearance to plead guilty on my behalf, during which he zealously proclaimed not only my guilt but also my pride in taking one (actually 2 to 5) for the Internet Freedom Team, I received both an invoice for 40 billable hours spent researching my "torturously complex" techno case and a collection letter attaching a lien to all current and future assets until his 5 figure bill was paid. (Insult to injury-Barry funded the tatoo.)

Thank Heaven for Martha! She appointed me a member of her Prime Time Posse (PTP), the elite nutritional SWAT team created to make her show-Recipes from the BH (Big House)-a gigantic blockbuster on Attica's pride and joy, the PrimeTime Prison Network.

As the official nutritional consultant to the show, I get to comment on every ingredient and suggest options if I feel the least bit uncomfortable with the glycemic index or LDL load represented by her organic and fiber-fortified conviction-cuisine.

Although, as Martha likes to say, compromise epitomizes the creative process, the PTP does its part every show to assault and subdue the Metabolic Syndrome Dragon lurking in the forebrain and foregut of every inmate whom I have examined in my short tenure as PD (Prison Doctor). Yeah, you got it-PI is a PD in the BH.

Just so Martha can cook with a clear conscience, she sat the entire PTP staff down and read us the nutritional and media riot act regarding the communication and code of conduct on her "hour of power," as she likes to refer to it.

1. Speak only when spoken to-interrupt me and you're dead meat.

2. Hands only on camera-no face time for felons on my show except for me, of course, and I don't count since my indictment and conviction were based on testimony fabricated by a little man who wanted to send me to the Big House.

3. When I ask for utensils or accessories, I expect them to be in my hand before I finish saying the word. And Frodo, next time I ask for cheesecloth to cover the Spam Frittata, do not give me your tee shirt. Or, if you absolutely cannot find the cheesecloth, at least wring out your shirt vigorously before you sling it on a Martha Stew Original. And quit whining about that damn ring you lost in my Man-eating Chili-I found it and will keep it until you clear 3 Frodian Hurdles:

1. your peeps think you have convict cred,

2. you are eligible for parole, and

3. you cut me in on the royalty stream from that weird kingdom flick.

Martha did give him her version of prison props: "That was some bad-ass movie you were in-although all the principals from Barber Shop 2 said they would not recommend it cause it simply could not compete with BS2."

Now let me give you all a little inside info that totally violates every HIPAA oath I ever took (but then again this is the Big House). The little dwarfish dude who insists on calling himself Frodo parachuted in from Texas and is a former Big Dawg CEO from this company called ENRON-if Martha wants to taunt him, she calls him Little K Lay.

Next time I will give you an insider's view of recipes, including Martha's attempt to provoke a mano showdown between Frodo and the new peep on the Posse, who calls himself Mongo (but who also refers to himself as Andy Fasto, financial whiz, in the marketing piece from his PPN original-Tax Shelters from the BH).

I will also update you on my ongoing attempts to create and develop NLI (National Legal Insurance). Martha Stew gives me "no shot." Her rap:

PI in the Sky

Calls it NLI

He's a DWA

And MS calls it DOA