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"Tim Russert is Dead" by Jon Gilson, Again Faster
Tim Russert is dead. The suffer-no-bullshit anchor of “Meet the Press” had a massive coronary on Friday at the too-soon age of 58.
This was a guy you liked for the same reason you liked Die Hard-era Bruce Willis. He was funny, he was aggressive, and he saw right through your front. The only way you got off Tim’s hook was to tell the truth, own up to your argument, and admit your shortcomings. I routinely felt sorry for his Sunday morning guests—they’d stumbled into a maze where the Minotaur was impossibly smart and every passage was a dead end.
Unfortunately, the otherwise brilliant Mr. Russert fell prey to the plague of the intellectual class, treating his body as an inconsequential vessel for his rock star brain. His work ethic was notorious--round-the-clock marathons of analysis and exposition, executed for the benefit of a spoiled television audience. His long hours in the office precluded regular exercise and proper diet, and his heart gave out.
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