Where's the Bacon?
Famous broadcaster Tim Russert died unexpectedly today. It was strange to see television anchormen, who are usually so stern and formal, delivering their broadcasts in tears, with an audible quiver in their voices.
It was even stranger to hear their quiet, heart-felt eulogies interspersed with commercial advertisements. There was a placid, grief-stricken bromide that "Tim has gone home", and Keith Olberman's tearful response, "But it was unheard of for Tim to leave work early". Then a simulated dog ran frantically around a generic domestic set searching for a product made of rendered hog fat and boiled-down slaughter byproducts, screaming repeatedly in a grating voice "WHERE'S THE BACON?!" as the camera whipped around at nauseating, break-neck speed.
And that's exactly the sort of thing that paid the bills, and made the television broadcasts of tearful eulogies, and arguably even made Mr. Russert's whole distinguished career possible.
Things are intertwined in such a funny way. The are no two things that don't touch, somehow.
It was even stranger to hear their quiet, heart-felt eulogies interspersed with commercial advertisements. There was a placid, grief-stricken bromide that "Tim has gone home", and Keith Olberman's tearful response, "But it was unheard of for Tim to leave work early". Then a simulated dog ran frantically around a generic domestic set searching for a product made of rendered hog fat and boiled-down slaughter byproducts, screaming repeatedly in a grating voice "WHERE'S THE BACON?!" as the camera whipped around at nauseating, break-neck speed.
And that's exactly the sort of thing that paid the bills, and made the television broadcasts of tearful eulogies, and arguably even made Mr. Russert's whole distinguished career possible.
Things are intertwined in such a funny way. The are no two things that don't touch, somehow.