I must have been living under some kind of rock, because I hadn't heard the name Casey Anthony until just a few days ago, when I flipped to HLN and spent a mind-boggling hour watching some of the most exhaustive coverage I've ever seen of one of the most outrageous subjects I've ever seen.
And let me tell you, folks, I am outraged. Just outraged.
Monday - the 4th of July - was an event for HLN. The jury was in deliberations! I saw a clock ticking in one corner of the screen, heard the anchors speaking with serious and authoritative voices. I was primed for outrage.
Then I noticed what was actually being timed/said. You see a clock ticking in a corner, and, if you're a casual sports fan (or, like me, are not), you assume it is counting down. When I focused my field of vision to take in and truly comprehend the clock, I found it was counting up. They were timing, to the second, the jury's deliberations.
On the first day.
This wasn't a countdown to some predetermined time when the jury was scheduled to give a verdict or anything like that. It was just some meaningless doodad on the screen, meant to look serious and authoritative.
This was happening at the same time the network's correspondent was standing outside a restaurant opposite the courthouse where these down-to-the-second deliberations were being held, because the defense team was having lunch there.
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The correspondent was explaining, in a serious and authoritative voice, that her camera crew had already been kicked out.
I don't know if watching this kind of coverage is the same for others as it is for me. For me, it's a train wreck filmed at 1,000 frames per second, each individual fragment of debris visible as it sails flaming through the air. I just wonder if for others it's the fulfillment of some kind of "grown-up stuff" quota, like being over age 25 requires you to have serious and authoritative-sounding news on your TV in the background while you do the dishes.
Outrageous, I tell you.
On a happier note ...
... it took me 27 years, but I finally got asked to stand in a friend's wedding. I'm happy for the experience, but not so happy I had to wear a purple vest with my rented tux. Since I've been so dour lately, here is me wearing purple, or, as the packaging insisted, "wisteria."