I Heart Roger Clark

I'm going to come clean and admit that I was too sick and still in bed when Mister Roger gave his report this morning. Real journalists have someone else to cover for them when a cold, flu or typhoid strikes, but I am not a real reporter so I have only myself to blame for not waking up in time to see the Big Guy today. And even if I had been up, I fear the Nyquil haze would have only made for another bizarre ramble on the Wizard of Oz, or worse, a tangent on George Whipple's eyebrows and how much they completely freak me out. Guess I need my very own Gary Anthony Ramsey to cover for me when disaster strikes. Sorry Rog. Hopefully today was a slow day and you wore a dress shirt and talked to a boring politico about something really important that would have been impossible to make fun of without sounding like a complete lowlife. If I find out that there were any hilarious gaffes - anything eaten, played with, or worn - I'm coming down there and it's not going to be pretty. Have you ever seen someone wear two sweatsuits and enough VapoRub to open the sinuses of an entire borough? I thought not. It's scarier than Shelley Goldberg in a clown suit. So let's hope that by tomorrow the news is really slow and I'm not sleeping with my mouth open.