I don't know much about Andy Rooney except he was kind of like my Ghost of Terror Night, if you will. Terror Night being the Sunday night before going back to work when I worked cubicle jobs that I hated with every ounce of my being. I'd go out and drink myself silly on Sundays hoping to stretch out the weekend and then come home and that fucking 60 Minutes clock would be going tickticktickticktick right as I started to sober up, counting down the hours til I had to insert myself back into the soulcrush, and all of the sudden Andy Rooney's mug would pop up all huge and old and angry on the screen complaining about some shit that really grinds his gears.
Didn't get much sleep on Terror Night. Moral of the story: Do what you love kids. No Terror Nights then.
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