This morning, I woke up after a night of crappy sleep on my Mom's couch. I flipped on the TV to keep me company, and was greeted by a serious-looking Matt Lauer talking to NBC's medical correspondent about heart attacks. Then I saw the graphic.
"Holy shit," I said to no one. "Tim Russert died?!"
I watched Lauer get all misty remembering Russert's passion for politics and a good story, which got me going. At least he died doing what he loved, which is all any of us can hope for. I guess.
I hate Father's Day weekend.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
If It's Sunday...
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