He was a very fortunate guy, and he knew and appreciated it. Paid to bitch on national TV, paid to have his pet peeves aired, he was envied by every disgruntled SOB in the country. Or maybe it was just me.

Charles Kuralt was an interesting counterpoint to Rooney. Kuralt's weekly feelgoods left one lightly musing some point or other which reflected nicely on someone or everyone. Kuralt, too, was envied by, well, at least me.

Maybe it would be ideal to combine Rooney and Kuralt, have a program on which someone could complain their guts out one week, and then show the benefits of gratitude the next. Maybe slam an Abramoff or Madoff upside the head for exemplifying greed in a capitalist democracy. The next week one could talk about the brave teenage girl who had a baby out of wedlock and then made a small fortune promoting abstinence, demonstrating that simple and pure notoriety can be generously rewarded in a country such as we are.

Andy, all curmudgeons of the world miss you. You lived our dream. And Charles, you left a hole, too. You painted a TV version of Norman Rockwell, a place we desperately wanted to be. May you both rest contentedly, and Andy, when you roll over in your grave once in a while, try not to disturb Charles.

Arf