Anderson Cooper and Other Stuff

The new house rule disallows the viewing of TV till seven a.m., at the earliest. You see, I awaken very early, make my first cuppa and re-retire to the living room (with its blackened big-screen) to savor the brew and meditate the morning's first hour away. Sleep is such a waste of time. Joe occasionally joins me in this time slot, though he has become a late(r) sleeper since his heart attack. When he does arrive before the TV bewitching hour, though, he immediately starts with the freakin' clicker. With nary a word, I elaborately check my watch. He stops, but don't think for a minute that he's not watching that clock...

Who can take it, this steady unfolding of tragic news stories being blitzed at us with rapid-fire speed -- morning, noon and night?? One hour less in no way reduces my heartfelt empathy/sympathy for recent (Sandy Hook, Hurricane Sandy, Boston) or current (Oklahoma) victims. Please believe me. But the damned media is relentless in asking sufferers to provide deep, meaningful thoughts to sum-up brutal emotions. Anyone with a pea-sized brain somewhat comprehends how a shattered parent suffering unspeakable loss must feel. Or how thousands of homeless wonder, "What's next?" Or how first responders live with the anguish they've witnessed.

And then, there's the Arias case... a cold-blooded murderess who was granted a courtroom stage, on which to present her "This Is My Life" slide show and commentary, in pleading for her life. WTF? Who the hell granted permission for this travesty of justice??

Enter here, Anderson. Last night, he apologized for interrupting an interview to bring breaking footage, thus leading viewers to a newswoman seeking commentary from a juror in the case. It was disgusting to watch her follow this guy, repeatedly asking for a statement or a word; his repeated response was, "No comment." Then, it was back to Anderson, who wondered aloud "Why?" that clip was even shown, as aforementioned reporter was obviously "...harassing..." the juror. His word, harassing. 

The real kicker, though, was footage of the killer in London, wielding his blood-soaked machete. I've always avoided horror movies... 
the real thing has become worse. 

Okay, okay, maybe I sound grumpy. Thing is, lessons are learned each day, like it or not. So, when we had a major leak from yesterday's torrential rainstorm, I sloughed it off as though it was a faucet drip, saying to Joe,
"Who can complain, in light of those suffering such tragedy in Oklahoma?"

But is it wrong to wish myself back to Corolla (OBX), even though it's where I actually did witness a funnel cloud for the very first time? 
Ah, the beauty of dateless, timeless days, staring at the sea... and the horses... not to mention the contrast in THIS:

CLICK, CLICK!