When the lights flooded the studio, all I could do was stare in utter panic at the thousands of faces staring back at me expectantly. Come on, you can do this, I mentally prepared myself. Not only thousands of people were watching, but millions. My face was being broadcast over live tv to the nation and I suddenly couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Brilliant.
If you were around in 1963, let’s say, around the end of November, you got to see the televised version of how a democratic country blows up right in front of your face. Of course, you didn’t get to see the full-color, unedited version until a few years later, but you saw enough to know that if a country wants to kill its leader, it can be done. It wasn’t done in front of the entire country; in fact, a lot of people didn’t know or care that the president had gone to Dallas, Texas. You might as well have said that he’d gone to China or some other place you didn’t really talk about that much. Anyway, when we all finally came home from wherever we were when it actually happened, we turned on the TV and saw the president’s black limousine riding through the streets to a pretty big crowd, all waving and smiling and the sun shining on their faces. Then you saw the car take a turn; then you saw the car, the top down and the sun still shining, keep driving along. And then you saw the president, who in the early films of the whole thing looked kind of blurry, while his wife, who was wearing a bright as the brightest pink suit you ever saw, stood out next to him, not her face, but for sure the suit. Then you saw the president pitch forward in the car and his wife trying to get out of the car. It was only later that you saw that the man’s head was mostly on the back hood of the car and his wife wasn’t trying to get away from the gunfire, she was trying to get back the piece of her husband that told everyone, including her, that he was never going to wave and smile from a car again. The murder of a democracy, televised.
When the lights flooded the studio, all I could do was stare in utter panic at the thousands of faces staring back at me expectantly. Come on, you can do this, I mentally prepared myself. Not only thousands of people were watching, but millions. My face was being broadcast over live tv to the nation and I suddenly couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Brilliant.
If you were around in 1963, let’s say, around the end of November, you got to see the televised version of how a democratic country blows up right in front of your face. Of course, you didn’t get to see the full-color, unedited version until a few years later, but you saw enough to know that if a country wants to kill its leader, it can be done. It wasn’t done in front of the entire country; in fact, a lot of people didn’t know or care that the president had gone to Dallas, Texas. You might as well have said that he’d gone to China or some other place you didn’t really talk about that much. Anyway, when we all finally came home from wherever we were when it actually happened, we turned on the TV and saw the president’s black limousine riding through the streets to a pretty big crowd, all waving and smiling and the sun shining on their faces. Then you saw the car take a turn; then you saw the car, the top down and the sun still shining, keep driving along. And then you saw the president, who in the early films of the whole thing looked kind of blurry, while his wife, who was wearing a bright as the brightest pink suit you ever saw, stood out next to him, not her face, but for sure the suit. Then you saw the president pitch forward in the car and his wife trying to get out of the car. It was only later that you saw that the man’s head was mostly on the back hood of the car and his wife wasn’t trying to get away from the gunfire, she was trying to get back the piece of her husband that told everyone, including her, that he was never going to wave and smile from a car again. The murder of a democracy, televised.
This new interview will be televised world wide and will be awesome because the new flying car comes out.