Bastards.

Meet the Press got bumped out of its normal time slot to 0800 this morning, which meant that it was preempted by the local news program here in Hoosieropolis.

I use Meet the Press to get blogging ideas, keep up with politics, and (importantly) pressure-test my cerebral arteries by yelling at senators on a Sunday morning. How am I supposed to pressure-test arteries watching the French Open?

Despite being a very physical sport to play, televised tennis ranks right up there with golf as a soporific, what with the metronomic whacking of the ball... pock!*grunt*-pock!*grunt*-pock!*grunt*...and the carefully hushed tones cultivated by the announcers, as though they knew that if they got excited about what they were watching, they might wake you up.
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