We've had so much fun together: you with your thoroughly balanced recap of the daily news, me with my lust for sanity and a sharp sense of humor. It's great how your research team spends hours watching Fox News and CSPAN. Your video editors are amazing with their montages of politician's speeches that catch their ridiculous antics. Your reporting team and regular guests make for interesting perspectives on issues. Your honesty when you don't read the book or viewed the movie is refreshing. Your research team must work well with your preparation needs. Your props department deftly applies glue. You always have great questions for your guests. Whoever does the photoshop titles for segments is brilliant. I remember when you had the POTUS on and called him, "Dude." That was priceless.
It's been great getting to know you, but it's time we got to know other people. I feel like I need to expand my intellect on my own. I don't feel good about only hearing your recap instead of forming my own snarky opinion about current policies and hubris.
We've spent so much time together and it feels like this relationship is heading for the next level. But I'm not ready for a commitment.
You can do better than me. Really. I moved closer to you in 2005, but even 90 minutes away, I still haven't made it to be a part of your live audience. I hate to even admit being in town a few times, but didn't make the trek to your studio. I'm ashamed to admit it, but you deserve the truth.
Don't get me wrong, It's been fun, but I'm not good enough for you. I know there are so many others who watch you religiously; quote your monologues on Twitter, even before your Daily Dump. They've even seen your reporters in their live stand up when they come to my town. I just haven't made the sacrifices for you that others have. I thought that being at the Rally to Restore Sanity would have been the moment that I would consummate our relationship. But it didn't happen. There was a ton of passengers on the Red Line. We couldn't get past the National Sculpture Garden to even catch a glimpse of the big screens on the Washington Mall. The only thing I got from that day with the FourSquare Epic Swarm badge, and the now retired Rally Badge. They are my only mementos of our unbalanced affair.
It's not you, it's me. I'm lame. I'm not worthy to watch you anymore.
We can still be friends. If you ever host the Oscars again, I'll support you - not like those egotistical Hollywood types that have no self-defacing humor. I'll smile at you when I see your image on the cover of Newsweek or Time magazine.
I need some space. I need time to sort out my feelings about late night television and how I follow the news. I swear I'm not leaving you for another late night host. Goodness knows it's going to be just as hard to say goodbye to Stephen. Colbert seems a little more fragile than you. I hope that he sees this act on my part easer to take if we ended our relationship first.
It really hurts me to say this, but I think we should see other people. I mean, I'll be reading and sleeping more. You just keep doing your fabulous thing for other viewers. My friends are going to think I'm nuts for throwing away a great relationship. I know that others will happily take my place. But I just need my time back. I need to set a good example for the children. I need to go to sleep earlier. And I know that if I think I'll catch your clips online during lunch, it'll backfire at work. I can't watch you during the day, because the kids just wouldn't understand why I'd ignore them for 30 minutes; even if they were bleeding. I just need more time for me. I hope you'll understand. It hurts me more than it hurts you. Just make sure that if anyone asks why we broke up; I'm the idiot.
There, there. No tears. We have to stay strong.
Love,
me.
PS - if I ever get ore control over my life, would you mind if I stop by once in a while?
*****
#54 of 90in90 for #LUBlogTribe
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