...sniff...My friends, I have-- sniff-- some terrible news indeed-- hiccup--it is with a heavy heart I relate to you the sad truth about the American Morning:

Most days, I have only a precious few minutes to make and ingest sufficient coffee before heading to class. It leaves little time to read a newspaper until I get a break at school or until I get home. So, ever since I started college about a year and a half ago, CNN's American Morning broadcast has been a regular part of my daily ritual. Bill Hemmer, Soledad O'Brien, Jack Cafferty, Andy Sowards...Ahhh, just to hear their names all together like that again pains me with feelings of nostalgia. Oh, Jack, with your curmudgeonly ways! How you'd torment Soledad, with her 90 second, as you called it once, "Drivel." Andy, you know lots about the stock market or something! Bill! You were always the center of balance, or so it appeared. You never took yourself too seriously, and didn't seem to mind greatly getting sent to Rome for, what was it-- six months, a year?-- to cover the Dead Holy One. And, you, Soledad, you...were...uh...there every day... except when on vacation! Bravo for consistency!

Alas, with the advent of summer vacation, I had time to read the paper, and my American Mornings ceased. It was months before I tuned in to CNN again. When finally, last July, my dial returned to cable channel 46, I was devastated by what I found; Hemmer and Cafferty were no more! At first I thought they might just be on vacation, but when CNN changed the name to American Morning with Soledad and Miles O'Brien, I knew; truly, they were gone. The American Morning had been turned upside down! It was no longer an American Morning, but rather, Crazy Turned Upside Down Nutso Morning! Bill and Jack had both mysteriously vanished into the night!

Without so much as a word of explanation from Soledad or Sowards, Hemmer had been replaced by Miles O'Brien, and Cafferty's File had been closed. Just like that-- Poof! (Author blows glitter from palm of hand for dramatic effect.) It was as though neither had ever existed. Naturally, I was dismayed, but the question remained, what had become of the two anchors?

Scenarios ran through my head the morning I understood the bleak finality of the disappearances. It could've been a drug deal gone sour; Hemmer and Cafferty had tried to purchase an 8-ball for the CNN Fourth of July Jamboree, but were gunned down in a dispute over price. The station refused to acknowledge this because it would be a grievous black eye. Or maybe they had both been clubbed, then thrown into a dried up well, where they were being forced to moisturize in lieu of getting "the hose again," and no one knew yet. Or perhaps they were slipped mickeys one night down at the pub, and were now, even as I sat eating my Grape Nuts, being sold as male prostitutes in Tijuana. I mulled it over time and again, but made no progress.

Then, epiphany! It all made sense to me. It had been Soledad behind it all! O' How could I have been so blind to her schemes? It was as clear as the nose on my face! Soledad, in revenge against Cafferty for mocking her 90 seconds of Pop, had hired somebody, probably Steven Seagal, to "disappear" Ol' Jack. I could see it all. Bill Hemmer had learned of her devious plot, knew what she was planning to do to Cafferty, and cornered her in the copy room to stop her from following through:

"Soledad, I've learned of your devious plot, know what you're planning to do to Cafferty, and have you cornered in this copy room! You mustn't follow through with this!" He (may have) shouted.

"Bill, Bill, Bill. Always playing the 'good guy,' huh?" She (most likely) sneered, "Listen, Sport. Do you know what it's like?! Every goddamned day, he's on me about 90 Second Pop. Damnit! Well, what's he got? What's he got that's so frickin' great? The Cafferty File? Argh! No, Bill. you don't know. I mean, how could you?"

But now he knew too much. Seagal would have to "disappear" him, too.

"But Bill, now you know too much. I guess Mr. Seagal will just have to pay you a visit!"

At that moment, I supposed, the door would've slammed shut behind Hemmer, and Steven Seagal would've leapt from behind it, and broken the young anchor's neck. I imagined that, that night, two body-sized rolls of carpet would be dumped off of the Brooklyn Bridge. I could just see Soledad sitting in a black Towncar parked near-by. smoking a cigarette, watching with self-satisfaction as each splashed into the murky waters below. Sploosh! Sploosh! She'd toss in the cigarette after the second splash, thus closing the book on Bill Hemmer and Jack Cafferty.

=Sniffle Sniffle=

But...sniff...what really happened was that Jack Cafferty has been moved to some obscure Saturday afternoon show about the stock market, and Bill Hemmer has...sniff sniff...has...AWGHK--! HE'S-- HE'S-- I can't say it!!! It's too awful! He's gone over to that plague of our society, that well of untreated feces, that pock mark on humanity, FOX News. ARGH! WHY, HEMMER? WHY DID YOU DO THIS, THIS TERRIBLE THING?? What a world, what a world....

I would like to officially apologize to Soledad O'Brien. You're twice the anchor as that flapping-headed puppet Paula Zahn.