Grudge

Geraldo Rivera

We were watching a local San Francisco TV program this morning during breakfast when they announced "Breaking news in the Brian Nichols case in Georgia. We'll take you there right after this break." Silly. Why would we sit through three minutes of commercials when, through the magic of DirectTV, we can get the news NOW?

I flipped to Fox News and there was Geraldo, live from Georgia. He had the scoop. Brian Nichols had been captured.

But Geraldo still pisses me off. Not one who normally holds a grudge, I'm still mad at Rivera. Every time I see him I'm reminded of April in 1986 when he held us hostage in front of our TVs for the opening of Al Capone's vault. Two hours of live TV from the Lexington Hotel in Chicago, so suspenseful. Two hours watching Geraldo, wearing an excavation helmet, speculate about all the money, whiskey and bones that must be inside.

Geraldo finally brought in the explosives team. More suspense. Finally, the blast, the dust, the commotion. Geraldo led the camera into the vault. Dirt. Nothing but dirt and a couple of empty whiskey bottles. Surely this would be the end of Geraldo Rivera's career. So I thought.