When Tim Russert entered the Men's Room, Chuck Norris would sit down to pee.
I'm pretty sure I've mentioned my father's news addiction before. In case I haven't, the TV schedule in the living room goes like this:
6 AM - 7 PM: Various news programs, many of which are napped through, but God help anyone who wants to watch something else.
7 PM - 10 PM: A WWII movie, or on rare occasions, a Biblical film.
10 PM - 11 PM: Flipping between Letterman & Leno, mainly for the monologues.
So, for those who haven't been listening to news set at Old People Volume the past two days, Tim Russert, host of Meet The Press, died of a heart attack on Friday. Thus every news program since then has been a "Remembering Tim Russert" special. Based on snippets of what I've heard, I've composed the following obituary:
Tim Russert was born 17 feet tall. His breakfast every morning consisted of several thousand flapjacks, cooked on a griddle so big that children with sides of bacon strapped to their feet would skate around it to grease it.
Russert was best known for single-handedly freeing the slaves and tracking down and killing John Wilkes Booth before he invented television, which he did when he and his big blue ox wrassled a tornado and trapped it in a box. That's what actually makes static on your TV.
Russert died this Friday when Bin Laden shrunk an army of terrorists down to microscopic size and entered his body to assault his heart directly. His heart managed to kill 200 of the terrorists, but in the final duel with Bin Laden, they struck each other a mortal blow.
Tim Russert is survived by his 150 wives and every man, woman, and child born in the state of Texas, all of whom may claim direct descent to him.
I guess if I have a point to make, it is this: If any of my friends are in broadcasting, for God's sake, don't die on a Friday!
6 AM - 7 PM: Various news programs, many of which are napped through, but God help anyone who wants to watch something else.
7 PM - 10 PM: A WWII movie, or on rare occasions, a Biblical film.
10 PM - 11 PM: Flipping between Letterman & Leno, mainly for the monologues.
So, for those who haven't been listening to news set at Old People Volume the past two days, Tim Russert, host of Meet The Press, died of a heart attack on Friday. Thus every news program since then has been a "Remembering Tim Russert" special. Based on snippets of what I've heard, I've composed the following obituary:
Tim Russert was born 17 feet tall. His breakfast every morning consisted of several thousand flapjacks, cooked on a griddle so big that children with sides of bacon strapped to their feet would skate around it to grease it.
Russert was best known for single-handedly freeing the slaves and tracking down and killing John Wilkes Booth before he invented television, which he did when he and his big blue ox wrassled a tornado and trapped it in a box. That's what actually makes static on your TV.
Russert died this Friday when Bin Laden shrunk an army of terrorists down to microscopic size and entered his body to assault his heart directly. His heart managed to kill 200 of the terrorists, but in the final duel with Bin Laden, they struck each other a mortal blow.
Tim Russert is survived by his 150 wives and every man, woman, and child born in the state of Texas, all of whom may claim direct descent to him.
I guess if I have a point to make, it is this: If any of my friends are in broadcasting, for God's sake, don't die on a Friday!