It is Not Russerts Fault

It’s not Tim Russert’s fault, all that media nonsense we had to go through last week.

The tragedy was real; a relatively young man, seemingly a pretty good guy, drops dead at his desk unexpectedly.

I know Russert was a good Catholic, but to judge from the tear-jerking send-off he got, the guy had more friends than the Pope. Every TV personality and media whore who ever shook Russert’s hand could be found blubbering on the tube for a solid weekend, right up to his grand farewell at the Kennedy Center. The Kennedy Center, for crying out loud.

It’s not your fault, dear departed Timothy, but your “passing” created the biggest television circle jerk since Lady Di took a ride with the wrong dude. Nobody who had ever read the news off a TelePrompTer in Wichita Falls for fifteen minutes back in the 80’s wanted to miss the chance for a little more face time, and most of them got it.

We lost George Carlin this week too but it didn’t cause nearly the fuss of Russert’s demise. One could argue that Carlin was a better comedian than Russert a newscaster, but that would be mean spirited and I don’t want to be mean spirited, because it’s not Russert’s fault.

The Great National Grieve-in following the Mr. Russert’s untimely death was, I think, a case of media revenge. Everybody hates the news media, so when they get the chance to gush over one of their peers, they take it, especially if said peer is recently departed from this mortal coil, and thus no longer a threat or rival to the remaining media gnomes.

The news folks are second in self-congratulation only to the showbiz folks, though the lines between the two have pretty much disappeared anyway. Oscars, Pulitzers, Emmys, Peabodys—what’s the diff? It’s all about “look at us, ain’t we great?” Well, sure, some of you are, but so are a lot of folks who go through life without trophies to prove it, some of them even famous.

George Carlin was a highly famous comedian for a number of decades, but he never generated much statuary. The humor profession is a little light on the hardware, though Mr. Carlin was slated to receive the coveted Mark Twain Award this November. He’s going to get it, too. Posthumously. At the Kennedy Center.

It’s not your fault, Tim Russert, that we get more laughs out of our comics than news out of our electronic newspeople. You did a pretty good show of occasionally substantial journalism at a time when “gotchya” was king. When “you really nailed that guy” is the highest praise an interviewer can get from his cohorts, the job of shedding light on an issue or personality sits on the back of the media bus, behind “winning the interview, and “making them squirm.”

But for us, the supposed audience, unless the victim is a graft taker, flat-out liar, or serial molester of young boys, that tactic is worse than useless.

But it’s not Russert’s fault. He worked the system the way he found it, and he did it about as well as anybody. And he got a farewell worthy of an angel.

Rest in peace, Tim Russert. It’s not your fault. Not anymore.