The Nittany Turkey

Primarily about Penn State football, this is a tale told by idiots, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

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Tim Russert dies of heart attack

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I was saddened to hear that Tim Russert of NBC News and long-time host of Meet the Press collapsed in his office today and died of a heart attack at age 58.

Those of us who consider ourselves journalists, as well as those of us like this Turkey who pretend to be journalists, can view the corpus of work assembled over Russert’s journalistic career as a model of integrity and substance, something to live up to. Russert never shied away from asking the tough question and never arrived at an interview without doing his research. He didn’t shoot from the hip; he took aim, took a breath, and squeezed off his shots, which seldom missed the mark.

Russert was serious when he needed to be, but he frequently mixed in a lighter side, which revealed his humanity. Family was everything to him, and always came first. He appeared to genuinely like the vast preponderance of his interviewees, who responded by returning the favor. He always appeared to be humble, never full of himself like many other journalists. He was always himself.

Although family and work came first, Tim Russert was a devout football fan. His beloved Buffalo Bills never won the Super Bowl for him, which he deserved at least once.  It is sad that he did not live to see that dream come true.

I watched Meet the Press every Sunday, and it was because of Tim Russert that I did. I feel as if I have lost a friend.

My heart goes out to the Russert Family and to all who knew him. Saddened though I am, I cannot presume to imagine the pain of their loss.

The woods are a-callin’

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Now that spring turkey season is over, this Turkey is going to hie his feathered butt into the woods for a couple of weeks. Thus, there will be no loquacious drivel emanating from this keyboard for a while. I trust that the lapse will reduce my readership to an absolute nadir, if it isn’t already there due to a lack of relevant subject matter in the off-season (I don’t cover Paterno contract crap, the Spread HD (which no one knows anything about), and the recruiting meat market.)

And so, to my remaining reader: So long for a while, Mom!

David Cook…by a Knockout!

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The American public voted. For a change, they seemed to THINK before they did, unexpectedly crowning David Cook as the newest American Idol. The little pipsqueak, David Archuleta, seemed befuddled and crushed, as just about all the pundits, including this Turkey, had predicted a pipsqueak victory. Justice is thus properly served and the better performer did, in fact, win.

I don’t know who looked the more surprised, Archuleta or Cook.

The Ãœberhypefest was typical of Idol finales, with lots of performances by the finalists, by former Idols, and by guest stars. There were lots of commercials and promos for Fox TV shows and motion pictures. Headliners were the Joshua Brothers, ZZ Top, Carrie Underwood, Donna Summer, Graham Nash, a couple of duds, and the biggest dud of them all, George Michael, who is not aging well, to say the least. Besides, he could never sing. Nevertheless, he occupied the featured surprise guest slot. The much ballyhooed appearance by tweenzy sensation Miley Cyrus never materialize, being the product of yet another stupid Internet rumor that infected the blogosphere yesterday.

Michael’s was a weird guest selection if the Idol producers were trying to cater to their prime audience. An 80s has-been ain’t gonna get them many young viewers. My best guess is that it was a cheapo deal, with Michael wanting to promote his tour or whatever.

The vote wasn’t even close. Cook’s margin was 12 million votes. The percentages were 56% to 44%, out of a total of 97.5 million votes. The dialing programs must have been burning up the CPU cycles.

Simon Cowell must have felt like crap about declaring Archuleta the winner on Tuesday night. He apologized to the contestants before the vast audience for his hasty judgment. To paraphrase Simon’s words on Tuesday, which were then directed at David Archuleta, we witnessed a knockout alright, but Simon had the wrong boxer hitting the canvas. It was Cook who scored the knockout.

There’s not much more to say except congratulations to David Cook and consolations to David Archuleta. Perhaps the latter can go back to school and be a doctor or something.

Until next year, peace out!