Those of you without HBO will have no fucking idea what I'm talking about, but when it comes out on DVD, you will:
At minute 57 of 60 of episode four of "The Newsroom", tonight, minutes ago, at 12:25 a.m., with tears streaming down my face, I'm whisper-screaming at my television set, saying, "She's not dead. She's not fucking dead, God damn it."
If you saw the show, you'll know what I'm talking about. If you didn't, here's a hint. The photo below.
I know she was my congresswoman. It know it was personal to me. (Really personal for her and Mark and the dead and injured.) I'm not objective about any of this, but I just watched the most meaningful fictional seven minutes of TV of my entire life.
Oh, "Fix You" by Coldplay played under it all.
It was perfect. Perfect television.