CNN FAIL: MODERATORS WON'T FACT-CHECK TRUMP LIES - 6.26.24

But when Trump insists Biden killed two women and he should go to jail because the alleged actual murderers were undocumented immigrants, what are they going to do to him? A customized Dana Bash shrug emoji When Trump insists the president is on drugs? Is Jake Tapper just going to

stare daggers at Trump? The last time CNN punted on its responsibilities to this nation, the truth and to just reality, it gave us the hapless Caitlin Collins Trump Live town hall in May of twenty twenty three, and as bad as she proved to be at it, Collins was at

least trying to get a fact in edgewise. The moderators tomorrow Night quote are not participants in the debate, they are facilitators, said as CNN spokesman CNN's woeful political director David Shallion, largely responsible for the Trump debacle last year, told The New York Times that a live debate is not the ideal arena for live fact checking, even as that spokesperson, who refused to give their name to Axios said that there would be some fact checking of major

falsehoods and smaller details, but only on the secondary CNN platforms like the digital ones. So they're not going to do it. Oh no, they're going to do it. They're just not going to do it where it matters or when it matters. Just to further confess that the CNN decision to not fact check Trump's fire hose of lies as he makes them where he makes them is another principle thrown away to make sure Trump shows up or doesn't batter the network or take revengulator or all three.

That same CNN spokesman said that they would fact check claims that the twenty twenty election was stolen, but the spokesman described those claims to Axios as inaccuracies. This is CNN Collins Trump town Hall of May twenty twenty three did not get the late and very unlamented Chris licked fired as CNN's chief and relegated to the dust spend of dereliction of duty. Licks amazingly self loving comments in the Atlantic magazine article did that, but the town Hall

was his penultimate step off the cliff. You can almost see a similar fate sharpening into focus for Lickt's successor, the British print newsman Mark Thompson. Just to make CNN's pre debate failure seem even more like Homer Simpson falling down his cliff. Thompson said he expected this to be quote an absolutely classic debate, and he compared it to in advance, the first Nixon Kennedy debate from nineteen sixty. Well, I'm sure they are comparable, sir, since they will both

have been on television. Mister Thompson planted one last rake to step on, or one last Petard to hoist himself. With the format of the debate, he actually thinks has quote been done in a way at least in principle, that is designed to get as much light as possible and not to be overwhelmed with heat. Principal, we're talking about Trump, and you seriously think that principles will somehow

prevail here. This is Trump. The way you kept candidates in line in nineteen ninety eight or nineteen sixty or eighteen fifty eight or in the UK may work again someday if we survive this election, but it is not going to work with Trump, because this man is literally running for his life, and thus he is tomorrow night literally debating for his life. There are no rules here, there is no truth here, and there is nobody inside of Trump for you to appeal to. By now it

should no longer be such, yet this truth remains. It continues to stun me that TV network after TV network, and soon to be x TV executive after soon to be x TV executive still thinks his or her vision of exactly the same idea to contain Trump that didn't work last time or didn't work the last fifty times, is going to work this time because well, in Chris Licht's case, it was because he knew it would work since he had produced Stephen Colbert, so he was too

cool for anybody to deare ignore him. In Kristin Welker and Carrie Butdolph Brown's cases, they thought they'd get away with it at NBC because, after all, they were hiring Ronald McDaniel and the price would be worth it to

not fact check Trump on Meet the Press. And in the new CNN guy Mark Thompson's case, I guess he thinks it'll work because he has dual American and British citizenship, and he can always go back there and get a job there after this impending FASCO costs him this job, or maybe he can go become editor of the Washington Post. I understand they're hiring, by the way, if you had not noticed the fascists, maybe not the Republicans, but the

true hallucinators. They believe Trump has already won the debate and the election. As the first of these looms, the Trump cult is really pouring gasoline they don't own on a fire. We intend to prevent them from lighting. There is today now not only an official Trump hit list, Schedule F, which would let him fire all government civil service employees and replace them with I don't know he's remaining relatives and other brain damage flunkies, but there is

now also an unofficial Trump hit list. The Federalist Society, and again the solution here is to declare the Federalist Society a terrorist organization. The Federalist Society has given a Kentucky guy named Tom Jones with a resume showing he used to be an aid to fascist Congressman Jim de Mint and a press photo showing he has eight chins.

The Federalist Society has given him one hundred thousand dollars to assemble and then publicly post a list of, as the Associated Press phrases it, quote, one hundred names of government workers who might be standing in the way of a second term Trump agenda. On the surface, Jones and his American Accountability Foundation are scanning backgrounds, social media posts, other commentary to get people fired from federal departments, especially

Homeland Security. Because if you think Trump wants to use the Department of Justice as his personal attorneys and he wants to use the FBI as his personal police, take a guess what he wants to use Homeland Security for two letters. It begins with an S and it ends with another S. But getting them fired by Tom Jones is just the surface plan. What else do you suppose

might happen to the one hundred people on it. If some conservative psychopath posted a Trump and Emmy's list on a website and again ruining the lives of one hundred people, making examples of one hundred people in order to preempt further criticism of a Trump dictatorship and the redeployment of DOJ, the FBI, Homeland and other federal institutions as part of a fascist state. That's just the first step. Because back at the official Trump kill list at Project twenty twenty five,

there is Joseph Backhome of the Family Research Council. When Whoopy Goldberg noted that the move to put up the Ten Commandments on the walls of every school in Louisiana, and I mean anywhere in this country outside of Vegas, where the Ten Commandments, bullshit as they might be, are

violated more frequently than they are in Louisiana. When Whoopy noted that this was an attempt to turn every school into a religious school, this, Joseph Backholme of the Family Research Council and Project twenty twenty five commented, quote, I think the response there to Whoopee is that public schools are religious schools, and that's really what this moment requires us to recognize. Why does Joseph say that, because quote Pride flags represent a set of religious values about who

is in charge. So there you have it. Opposition to Trump will be purged from the government and others will be warned from even trying it as they watch the lives of those who have already criticized him get their lives ruined. Schools will be religious schools, and the religion will prevent the gay And how did we get here? We got here obviously because of the villainy on the right.

We also got here because for half a century, our secular, fair, non religious nut job somewhat scrupled politicians formerly in both major parties, lately just on the left, have bluntly not beaten the metaphorical shit out of the religious nut job every time they have surface to crusade. Crusade meant literally as in, let's go kill people in the Holy Land, or failing that, we will accept Louisiana as an alternate answer.

They rise and they send their own members out into the public, and we have not done enough to crush them. And when that failed, they got behind a psychopath. It would do anything for them, because the evangelicals do vote and they do vote in blocks, and if you let them impose their hallucinations and delusions and superstitions upon the rest of us, they will let you get away with murder, or, in Trump's case, they will let him get away with

bum fights. Bum fights, bum fights, having the homeless fight each other or fight low level professional fighters while the supposed ordinary good Americans pay money and sit back and laugh. Got any memory that does bring a distant from two decades ago. Bum fights back, only this time and even more hateful version of them, proposed by no less than the biggest bum of them all. Trump wants to have immigrants fight American born professionals in mixed martial arts fights.

Trump is like two steps from suggesting building a new Roman colisseum in West Palm Beach and having them battle

lions there. Trump is like three steps from in the bitterest of ironies, given the death of my friend Donald Sutherland last Thursday, the Trump Hunger Games, a title which itself would be ironic inso much as in the last three decades, Trump has clearly never let himself be hungry for more than five minutes at a stretch, and Trump crazy, Trump, sadistic, Trump living in a dreamlike fugue state, almost Caligula Trump, He's only like five steps from the worst thing he

could ever ever think of, having immigrants fight sharks. I have one simple request, and that is to have sharks with freaking laser beams attached to their heads. Can you remind me what I pay you people for? Honestly, throw me a bone here, Sharks with frickin' laser beams that are solar powered, so they'll short out and electrocute somebody

when they get wet. Because Trump is simultaneously convinced that green energy fails when it's not windy, or if the machine gets wet, But the wind powered engine on a sinking boat would still somehow electrocute him, but it would not electrocute the shark ten feet away from him. At as much as this tells us about what terrifies this psychopath.

We're a little deep in the woods here and the weeds as well, And as Biden prepares for the debate two nights from now, he should widen out the lens and underscore the key point in the shark story and the migrant fighting league story and all the rest of these violent fantasies, which is that Trump is not only insane and deteriorating, but that he has the makings of criminal insanity. Widening out and answering Trump's delusions not with what you and I do, parsing them to underscore just

how crazy they and he really are. Widening out is I think Biden's best plan for tomorrow night. He needs to start where we leave off when Trump says something crazy about sharks or about the economy or anything in between. Start by saying Donald Trump is insane, and by the way, he's wrong and he's lying to you. Here's why this is especially true if Trump tries the are you better

off now than you were four years ago? Jazz emphasized Trump's criminal culpability about COVID, emphasized the million dead, the bleach, the putting light in your body, the economic collapse, the fact that in February twenty twenty, Trump knew it was airborne and lied to the public for months as Americans died. Say it, mister president, say it. Bluntly. Trump killed a million Americans. There are American millions he killed for whom there is no question they ain't better off now than

they were four years ago. And bluntly say that he still managed while doing this to kill the economy. That the inflation we are finally stopping now is Trump inflation. It's Trump COVID inflation. That the president with the worst job record since Herbert Hoover was Trump. That violent crime exploded under Trump, that there were two kinds of criminals under Trump, muggers and murderers on the street and ex

presidents who tried to overthrow the government. And the most important truth to hit him with, the most important truth to dispel what Brian Bouler beautifully dubbed Trumpstalgia and trump Nisia, the most important truth to enrage Trump is the truth that he lost, that he lost the election, that he's a loser, and that instead of taking it like a man, he had other pe people tried to overthrow the government

for him. He was such a coward. He didn't even have the guts to go to the capitol during the coup. I mean, what is he going to say to that, I did too have the guts to go to the capitol during the coup. I really wanted to stay and go there, but they said, sir, you can't go, it's not safe. They had tears in their eyes, to which Biden could reply, it wasn't safe. It was all your supporters, it was all your people, and it wasn't safe. And you wanted to go, but they stopped you. Who stopped you,

who made your decisions for you? Donald, you were president of the United States. I mean you were the worst weakest president in history. And when you tried for reelection, you lost. But you let some White House aid or secret serviceman tell you what you could and couldn't do. Let me tie this together, bum fights, migrant fighting championships, the official Trump enemies List, the unofficial Trump enemies List, mandatory religion in public schools. This is your generation of

politicians who have failed us. President Biden, you all tried to compromise. We all thought you were right to We were all wrong. You have to go into this debate escalating your assessment of what is really at risk. It is not enough to merely fight Trump in this debate on behalf of America. You have to think of it this way, on behalf of humanity and mankind, because the next five years is the last chance we have to

mitigate a climate disaster. What would you have said, mister President, knowing what you know today if you were debating not in twenty twenty four in Atlanta, but in nineteen thirty two somewhere in Germany against Hitler. Throw some punches, Joe Summon the old anger, get in there with the plan on destroying Donald Trump because he might as well be Hitler or has his national press secretary called him the

other night Hilter back on this planet. As they start Thursday, we are likely to see both sides claiming their candidate is leading in the polling. Trump will be lying using the polling averages from five point thirty eight dot Com, the Split Ticket political website, put out a graphic showing what Trump's stormy Daniel's election interference conviction did to his

numbers In the swing states. Biden is only ahead and by only half a point in only two of them, Michigan and Wisconsin, but the move towards him in the polls since Trump's conviction on the thirtieth of May is astonishing. When reduced to the measurement of the swing. In the swing states, Biden has gained a point at a tenth in North Carolina, He's gained a point and one fifth. In Georgia. He's gained one and three fifths in Michigan.

In three states Arizona, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin, he's improved by two and three tenths of a point, and in Nevada he's three and three tenths points better than he was a month ago. Overall, in the swing states, he went from minus one point seven to plus zero point one in about four weeks. I hit the poll numbers last week, and at the same time George Conway noted accurately that we should not focus only on the polls because they

could give a false sense of security. Yes, entirely true, but they are still of value because if I was taught one thing by my experience of two thousand and five, six, seven, eight, when the viewer response to my commentaries was basically thank God, I thought I was the only person who realized this

was happening. If I was taught one thing by all that it is never underestimate the value of reminding people that the gravity has not been turned off in the world, that cause an effect still exists, that good can beat evil, particularly when good gets up off its ass. There's nothing like having somebody, even a polster, even a lot of polsters, whose numbers are then made into an average say no, no,

you're not alone, and no you're not crazy. And lastly to that end, and to circle back to advice to Biden, I think, mister President, you should say repeatedly that Trump is exactly that crazy, insane, nuts out of his head. I would go back to ancient history in the Trump versus Biden stuff, all the way back to nearly two weeks ago. Joe Bride, this guy Joe Bride. He called him Joe Bride, and don't forget in March Trump, who'd also called him. Trump wrote about Joe Biden, and in

writing about him, called him Joe Buden. President should run with this tomorrow night. Run with it, laugh about it, shout about it, hell sing about it, yes, sir, sing about it. Oh. Nancy called him Joe Bride. Trump sprain is Bride. He once called him pewed and sanity inside of Trump has due, uh had, Thank you, Nancy Faust.

Also of interest here, I wonder sometimes if there was an unknown pandemic, say twenty thirty years ago, a pandemic that made at least a third of our population stupid, but also convinced them they were genie, some kind of Dunning Krueger coronavirus, because a congressman who never fought in combat does not know that he can't wear a medal

that they only gave the combat soldiers. And vive Ramaswamy doesn't know who prosecuted Assange, and an attorney general of one of these United States does not know how Lincoln was kept off the ballot in ten states or in eighteen sixty, nor why these people are dumb enough that they could each run CNN. That's next. This is countdown. This is countdown with Keith Olberman still on this ediative countdown.

It's not quite the anniversary that will come up in August, but I happened to do an interview over the weekend about the great tennis player and legendary muscle ophthalmologist and my friend, doctor Renee Richards, who treated me after I did this to myself in nineteen eighty, so it's close enough to the anniversary. It was the day I learned what mom had met all those years when she used to say, never run for a train, There'll always be

another one. I found it out by making a loud clanging sound on the front of a train and using my own head to do it coming up in things I promised not to tell, or this time more accurately things I'm lucky I didn't accidentally maim myself, so I can still tell you ahead. But first there are still more new idiots to talk about. The daily roundup of the misgrants, morons and dunning krugriffects specimens who constitute two

days worse persons in the world. Clank the bronze, speaking like he ran into a train once two Congressman Troy Nells Troy is one way or the other, not right in the head. He was a civil affairs branch officer in the military in Iraq and Afghanistan, non combat, yet by some sort of clerical mistake, he was awarded the combat Infantry badge in two thousand and eight, which he was not eligible for he was never in combat. In twenty twenty three, the army corrected its mistake and rescinded

Nells's badge. Somebody noticed and asked him why if he wasn't eligible for the badge, he was still wearing it as a congressman, He said, go ask the army. So a group called not us or notice NTUS did the Army got back to them and said no, Nells can't keep it, can't wear it, and nobody in the military was entitled to give him a pass on the military medal. He is still weddering even though it isn't justified. Nells says, this is the establishment going to any lengths to get him.

He did not use the word woke. I'm totally disappointed the runner up worser Vivic Ramaswami. There are some stupid people. There is the Dunning Kruger effect. Then there is Viviq Ramaswami, another potential author of Vivic's Ramaswami's autobiographical history of the World, unless Trump writes a book by that title first, or has it written for him first. This accidental rich guy who thinks he is the smartest person in history is

actually clueless. He seems to be publicly celebrating the Julian Assange plea deal, but he criticizes the president for making that plea deal, and he knows nothing about the history of the prosecution of Essanje I mean just the last five years of it. Rama l Lama ding Dong writes, it's great that Julian Assange will finally be released in what smells like a desperate Biden gunmit for Libertarian votes.

But it's shamed that he had to spend years rotting in a foreign prison for doing what other reporters do regularly, while the government employee who leaked to him, Chelsea Manning, had her sentence commuted by Obama because she's a member of a favored political class. Transgender Julian Assange deserves a pardon and its long past overdue to restore one standard of law again in America. He writes like he talks

without punctuation or intelligence cool. Assange was indicted on May twenty third, twenty nineteen, by the Department of Justice, and the Attorney General was Bill Barr. The president was elderly first offender Trump. Not only did Trump indict Assange, but this was a superseding indictment. Meeting Trump and Barr and their DOJ decided the previous indictments of Massage were not strong enough, so they threw them out and indicted him

some more so. Naturally. Ram Swami thinks it's all Biden's fault, but our winner. Same hubris. That is the theme today, same stupidity, different topic. Andrew Bailey another ex military guy who somehow became Attorney General of Missouri. You may recall that when they were talking about a ballot initiative of abortion in his state, ban or non ban, the Missouri Auditor's office confirmed that though like Bailey, he the auditor

opposed abortion rights in Missouri. No, it would not cost taxpayers a dime to restore abortion rights in Missouri, and ending abortion rights in Missouri wouldn't save them a dime. It had no impact financially whatsoever. But Attorney General Bailey demanded that the auditor change his finding before the ballot initiative was voted on. He wanted him to lie and say that restoring abortion rights would cost Missouri billions of dollars. Anyway,

He's one of those guys. Liar cheat more once used Little Jimmy O'Keeffe videos as evidence for something, and now he's back having Missouri sue the state of New York over the Trump convictions. You know that Trump felony convictions that make Trump a convicted felon. Bailey joined the Newsmax Joseph Goebel's memorial channel to explain this nuisance and or

his PTSD from his service in Iraq suit quote. Look, no one would have tolerated it if in eighteen sixty a rogue da in South Carolina had prosecuted Lincoln for speaking out on abolition issues and taken him off the campaign trail. At some point we substituted the phrase I was in the military once, for I have the barest minimum education and experience required to serve in any form

of government anywhere in this country. Attorney General Bailey does not know that in eighteen sixty Lincoln was not on the ballot in South Carolina because he was viewed as an abolitionist. And he wasn't on the ballot in Mississippi, And he wasn't on the ballot in Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, Tacks, Arkansas, Tennessee, and North Carolina, and most of Virginia, oh On prosecuting Americans and American politicians for speaking out on abolition issues.

That was done in the South and in the border states, in Ohio, in Maryland and oh By the way, what was the Civil War if not an attempt to prosecute Lincoln and millions of other Americans for speaking out for abolition of slavery. Missouri Attorney General Andrew O Buddy Francis Scott Key prosecuted abolitionists. You really should not have dropped out in the eighth grade like that, Bailey two days

worst person the world. So finally to our number one story on the countdown on my favorite topic, Me and things I promised not to tell, although truth be told, I have been telling this story now for forty two years. On Sunday, the twenty fourth of August nineteen eighty, I learned what Mom meant when she had said, never run for a train. There will always be another one. Because I didn't know what it meant, I nearly killed myself. I permanently altered my health, and I put myself on

a path towards meeting the great doctor Renee Richards. I was sleeping late in my relatively new and tiny studio apartment on fifty fifth Street in Manhattan, Apartment ten F, when above me, eleven F started making noise like pounding on the floor. And now it's a thirty Sunday morning, and I'm awake, and I'm not doing my job as a radio sportscaster until about two, and I think, well,

I'm up. Oh, the Dodgers are playing the Mets at Shay, I can go to my other job as a semi professional photographer and go shoot the Dodgers and still make it to work on time. So I packed my semi professional emphasis on the semi photographer's bag and drag myself out on the subway and get to Share stadium around eleven thirty am. And there's nobody there, No Dodgers players,

no Mets players, nobody but the grounds keepers. And as the minutes pass, I'm beginning to calculate when I have to leave in order to not be late to my job back in Manhattan. Weekend life in New York City in nineteen eighty might as well have been nineteen ten. I tell people this. They do not believe me. But when I worked weekends the next year in Times Square, I used to call into my newsroom from a payphone on Fifth Avenue and say, Okay, I'm going to Rby's today.

Who wants what? Or McDonald's or Burger King or wherever. Because our office was in Times Square and on weekends there were no restaurants open in Times Square. You could not get food in Times Square on weekends. Today, the same four square block area probably has fifty restaurants and fast food places. So the train back to Manhattan from Shae Stadium in Queens ran once every half an hour on that Sunday in August of nineteen eighty. And as I looked at my watch, I realized I should have

left the field three or four minutes ago. If you went out the press entrance and exit at Shaye Stadium, you could see the train approaching the elevated station out behind right field. And if you had just seen it, if it had just become visible, and if you then ran your fastest, you could make it to the viaduct that crossed the parking lot and led you up towards

the station platform. And if you could get your subway token out and into the turnstile slot with one fluid overhead motion, and if you kept running all the time, you could just make the train. If you didn't, you would be waiting half an hour, unless maybe the next train was late or on fire somewhere. Sure Enough, as I got out of the ballpark, I could see the Manhattan bound train just appearing at the horizon. I was

twenty one. My knees still worked, and I ran and I got into the viaduct, and I got the token out of my pocket, and I got into the slot like Daryl Dawkins doing a tomahawk slam. And I not only made the train, but I made it by so much that I styled, I celebrated, I congratulated myself. I was guilty of premature jocularity. I could have just slowed to a triumphant jog and gotten a seat, huffing and sweaty, but eminently satisfied and on time for work. But no,

I decided to make an exultant, joyful leap. The next thing I registered was the loudest sound I had ever or have since ever heard, as if six hundred gongs had gone off simultaneously, or a dozen church bells, or every alarm clock that had ever awakened me from the deepest of sleeps. Something like this, but inside your head, barm. When it happened was forgetting that I was no longer six feet tall as I had been even two years before,

but was now just under six ' four. My leap had ended with me slamming my forehead on the flat metal bar just above the train doorway an inch higher, I might have blinded myself. The bar an inch above the doorway is, in fact, as I found out later, the thickest piece of metal on a New York City subway train. As it was, my momentum carried me safely into the train. I hit the floor. I saw my sunglasses go flying off and rattling down towards the back

of the train like a plastic rat. I heard the train doors cl I felt the blood on my head and in my hair, and I crawled up onto the plastic bench seating behind me. The mass gong sound continued in my head, and my first cogent thought was to see the blood on the train floor and think, Oh, I have spilled blood all over their train, and I don't have anything to clean it up with. Similar nonsense continued to bounce around my concussed size eight noggin for seconds,

maybe minutes. It was beginning to really hurt, and of more practical import the bleeding had not really stopped. At this point. An older woman sitting more or less across from me handed me a small packet. It was a wet wipe. I mumbled thanks, opened it, dabbed it on my forehead for a second, and was surprised to find it instantly inundated with blood. This was the first time it occurred to me that I might be in real trouble on the Number seven local train to Grand Central

and Times Square. Apparently this thought occurred simultaneously to the woman with the wet wipes and to her friend, I think you're kind of hurt. One of them said to me, let's get you to the hospital. There's one a couple blocks from the next stop. Now understand this situation. The New York of nineteen eighty, and particularly the subways of

nineteen eighty were not nice places. Two years later, I took a rush hour train to my job at CNN at the World Trade Center and was annoyed to find one guy who had sprawled himself over three seats with a newspaper covering his face. Nine hours later, when I went home, I got onto a train and saw the same guy with the same newspaper on the same seats, because it was the same train, and more importantly, because he was dead. Anyway, it was now around twelve forty

five of a Sunday afternoon. If it had been night, or indeed certain other times of the day or on other train lines, I would have simply been the easiest mugging victim in New York history. Somebody could have knocked me over and taken my wallet with next to no effort. Hell, they could have asked me for my wallet, and I was so dazed I probably I would have said, sure,

have a nice day, got any wet wipes? Instead, I met not one, but two good Samaritans who knew where the hospitals were in a part of town I could

barely find on a map. Sure enough, they helped me to my feet, walked me down the steps and to the two blocks or so that separated us from Elmhurst Hospital, And when I reassured them I was clear headed enough to get into the emergency room by myself, they wished me luck, and they would not even accept my offer of two tokens to get them back on the subway. There should be a monument to these two women somewhere.

If the New York City subways of nineteen eighty were scary, the emergency rooms of its hospitals were something out of a Brian de Palma film. I think there were a couple of dozen people in the er. I remember one of them asking me how I got so bloody and I explained, and he said you should go ahead of me, and he opened his windbreaker to show a blood covered shirt, and he added the bullet. Only I know. I waited

about two hours. During that time I had a singular experience which has informed my understanding of concussions and traumatic brain injury ever since. The desk nurse asked me for the name of a contact, preferably a family member. I gave my father's name, Theodore. Then she asked me for my full name, and when I went to say it, I could not remember my middle name. Could not remember my middle name Keith, I got Olderman, I got that

was it. My middle name is also Theodore. I could remember Theodore my dad, but not Theodore my middle name. That is how fragile your brain really is. Think of that the next time you see somebody get clocked in a sporting event. There was some comic relief. I called into my office at United Press International's Audio network and explained to the news editor a veteran named Ed Kern's the most dapperman in radio history, who looked like the

actor Ray Collins from Citizen Kane. I told Ed I had just sort of almost you know, killed myself on the subway coming in from Queen's, and I really didn't know when or if I would be at work. About forty five minutes after that conversation, the desk nurse started shouting my name, and I thought, Okay, I'm finally going to be brought in to see a doctor. No, it was Ed Caron's calling from UPI. My bosses were all very sorry that I was wounded, he said, but there

was nobody available to fill in for me. So when could they expect me to be in the office, I explained, I did not know that since I was technically still bleeding to death. Forty five minutes more passed, and again the nurse summoned me and said there was a phone call, and this time I was sure it was my dad,

Keith ed Karin's again at UPI. He explained that my boss now said that they would bring in the guy who was supposed to do the next morning sports cast, my college friend Peter shack Now, but they expected me to do his shift starting at four point thirty in the morning. I explained to Ed that I would try, but that honestly I didn't know where I was or what time it was. Now two nice ladies had mentioned the name of the hospital, but I really wasn't remembering

too well. Plus I was still bleeding to death. Needless to say, I did not bleed to death. I survived. It was a severe concussion, but it only took a stitch and a half to actually close that wound. And the er doctor and the nurses were outstanding, and they gave me easy to remember instructions, plus a note indicating that I should rest for at least forty eight hours just in case Ed Karins showed up at my apartment.

No offense to Ed. They told me what symptoms to expect, how to prepare for them, and when they would stop. And they stopped like one day earlier. It was a potential disaster that turned into a nothing burger, or so I thought. Two years later, I was at the original Louis Armstrong Stadium covering the nineteen eighty two US Tennis open, on the other side of the same elevated subway station where I had run into the train going there always

actually made me laugh. Until the afternoon of Saturday, September eleventh, nineteen eighty two. I was watching the Women's final, covering it for CNN Chris Everett over Hannah man Lakova, and swinging my head from side to side, as one does to follow the tennis action from over here, two over there, two over here, two over there, as I had swung my head from side to side for the preceding twelve days of the tournament. Then I swung to the right,

but my left eye kept looking to the left. The old Marty Feldman thing reversed crossed eyes that hurt worse than hitting the train had. I could barely stand any light. I often had to keep my hand in front of my eyes. I rushed to my optometris Monday morning and he started to laugh. This happened to you during the US Open. I said, yes, Why are you laughing at me? He said, I'm going to send you to the best muscle optimist I've ever met. I said, so, why are

you laughing at me? He said, you don't know who that is? I said, no, I let my knowledge of the muscle ophthalmology ranking slip. Why are you laughing at me? He said, The best muscle ophthalmologist I've ever met is doctor Renee Richards, the transsexual tennis player. I said, I don't care who you're sending me to. I'm in trouble here. If they can fix this, I don't care who you're

sending me. My train accident was so far in my past that when I got in to see doctor Richards the next morning, I didn't even think to mention it in my patient history. Didn't matter. Thirty seconds of staring into my eyes through a wall sized feropter and Renee Richards said, when exactly did you hit your head August or September of nineteen eighty. I was stunned. Uh, I did hit my head in nineteen eighty August twenty fourth. She made a clicking noise of satisfaction. I've heard of

this before, but I've never seen it. You couldn't do this again in a million years. The good news is that muscle problem with the eyes, that's just muscle exhaustion. We can fix that with a thing that costs to buck ninety eight. The bad news is when you hit your head, most of the damage must have been absorbed by your inner ear. If you want to fix that, you'll need brain surgery. I don't recommend brain surgery. Doctor Renee Richards showed me the muscle exercises that cost a

dollar ninety eight that fixed my reverse cross eyes. They felt better immediately. I still do the exercises I did them earlier today. Then Renee Richards said, so you're a sports reporter. It says here, listen, my next patient isn't due for half an hour. You should rest anyway after my exam. Let's talk about sports reporting. Renee Richards was an expert. Her transition had been outed by a sportscaster,

Tucker Carlson's father. If you can believe that, I can believe it because she had been a man when she played in the US Open. As a woman, she had become almost instantaneously the most famous tennis player in the world. Then she became Martina Navratulova's coach. I learned more from her in that first half hour of conversation about the ethics of reporting than I had in all of my

previous life experiences combined. Plus she was a gas. Renee Richards was hilarious, she was self effacing, She was a great doctor, and to me, she was the definition of courage. And she, I am proud to say, is still my friend. All because I did not know what Mom meant when she said, don't run for a train, There'll always be another one. The other phrase I never really understood till then was breakneck speed. Oh, when there is one more

punchline here. If the name of that hospital that the two good Samaritans took me to, Elmhurst Hospital sounds vaguely familiar, it should. It was ground zero when COVID nineteen hit, when the pandemic had its hand around New York City's throat. The worst hit community was Elmhurst in Queen's and the worst hit hospital was Elmhurst Hospital. They were in desperate need at that point of ventilators, so I knew what I had to do. You could buy them for cash legally,

so I got two ventilators. I had them delivered, one for each of the ladies who helped me to get off the damn train that day. And by the way, that also hurt for like three weeks. I've done all the damage I can do here. Thank you for listening. Countdown. Musical directors Brian Rain, John Phillip Schanel arranged, produced and performed most of our music. Mister Ray was on the guitars, bass and drums, and mister Shanelle handled orchestration and keyboards.

It was produced by Tko Brothers. Other music, including some of the Beethoven compositions, were arranged and performed by the group No Horns Allowed. Sports music is the Olberman theme from ESPN two. It was written by Mitch Warren Davis courtesy of ESPN Inc. Our satirical and pithy musical comments are by Nancy Fauss, the best baseball stadium organist ever. Our announcer was my friend Dennis Leary, and everything else

was pretty much my fault. So that's countdown for this, the one hundred and thirty third day until the twenty twenty four presidential election and the two hundred and sixty ninth day since convicted fellon Trump's first attempted coup against the democratically elected government of the United States. Use the July eleventh sentencing hearing, use the mental health system, use presidential immunity if it happens, Use the debate to stop

him from doing it again while we still can. A reminder will be live again on YouTube after the debate Tomorrow night. Join me should be about ten thirty Eastern unless Trump gas out. They do it anyway. Even if he does gack out and take your questions about him gacking out anyway, Send your link to this edition of the podcast to somebody who does not already listen. Thank you for doing so. The next scheduled countdown is tomorrow.

Bulletins is the news warrants till the next one on Keith Oldreman, good morning, good afternoon, good night, and good luck. Called him Joe Bride. Trump's brain is pride, he wants, called him beud in sanity inside of Trump has duh huh uh. Countdown with Keith Olderman is a production of iHeartRadio. For more podcasts from iHeartRadio, visit the iHeartRadio app, Apple podcast, or wherever you get your podcasts.