Here we go again.
Yes, Tim Russert died. Yes, it's a tragedy. Indeed, it's a dark day for America.
But to paraphrase Mark Antony, I come not to praise Tim Russert, but to bury him. I'm not a huge fan of Russert. I didn't ever really watch him and if you had asked be before a few hours ago what he looked like I would have only a vague idea.
It's not that I dislike him. It's just that it drives me crazy when people are fans of talking heads on TV.
Okay. He died. It's a damn shame that people have to die and my heart goes out to his family and friends. But you just know that there's a building tsunami of blog posts from people who only knew Russert as a face on a flatscreen.
But the worst of it will come tonight during the primetime news casts when every self-important news anchor will feel compelled to "say a few words" about their "friend and colleague" and what a supreme being he was because he was on TV.
There will probably be several video retrospectives with emotional background music as "we remember the life of our dear friend" and "all that he has contributed" as if, by virtue of him being on TV, his contributions are so much more valuable that the ordinary rank and file of America.
It has happened before and it will happen again, because the talking heads on the teevee love being the story more than telling the story.
tagged: death, Tim Russert, media, television