Tuesday, September 21, 2004
First, we heard of two heroic firemen who'd saved a colleague (cue tears #1), then we saw Travolta flying the two dudes up in his own 747 (dab-hand pilot, it seems, with airport as a house). #2 as the firemen were cheered and then out came their recovering burnt buddy to hug them and present them with Honor Medals. Boo hoo gasp sob - Kleenex futures soar.
Then we saluted some brave young lad with a killing dystrophy who wrote poems that wowed the world and whose funeral was attended by ex-prezzies and a coupla 1,000 firemen etc.
We also saw his mother who came on in some wheel chair as if her body, too, was fragile as heck. It felt churlish to wonder why she'd produce a kid in such a dodgy state, but that way lies being hacked to death by 1,000 Winfrey fans.
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