The camps concluded yesterday in rather successful fashion. In response to the long hours over the last two to three weeks, I had one of the all-time great nights of sleep last night. I am now sitting in Walker's after a cup of coffee and a peanut butter sandwich. I am excited about tonight as I am few occasions. That excitement, however, is tempered by the tragedy of Russert's passing being replayed over and over again on television.

I don't comment on the deceased too much, because I think people often make up bullshit compliments about them after they're dead just to fit into the crowd and seem compassionate. I'm sure you can name several sons-of-bitches over the years whose passing was met with posthumous praise, even though their absence probably makes the world a better place.

All indications are that this phenomenon does not apply to the praise of Tim Russert. I know that I personally loved listening to him because of his apparent fairness, his calm delivery of pointed questions, and his obvious awe of and passion for his family and his life. There are a lot of things about him that I would like to be things about me.

One comment in particular struck me last night. Keith Olbermann (of whom I am generally not a fan) said in reference to working with Russert, "Every time I have ever used the word 'privilege', I feel like I should have saved it just for this occasion rather than wasted it on the other ones." On one hand that doesn't say it perfectly. And on the other, it most certainly does.