Work was boring as all Hell Friday.  My feet were burning up, my knee felt like it was about to explode, but my boss was adamant that I had to work.  So what if I can’t function, right?

I forgot my newspapers this morning, so I’m listening to the radio catching up on what happened and the “breaking news” sounder goes off, alerting me and the millions of other New Yorkers listening that NBC broadcaster Tim Russert had died.

I never really paid much attention to him, nor did I watch “Meet The Press,” but I knew of him and always heard great things about his work as a broadcaster and as a political behind-the-scenes figure working with various Senators and Governors in his career.

A heart attack while he was working, they say, is what killed him.  He was just with his family overseas, came back to work, and now he’s gone.

What a shitty way to start Father’s Day weekend.