There once was a pretty good sports columnist for the Washington Post named Tony Kornheiser.
Tony was so popular he moved on to other media. He had a radio show. He appeared on the Sports Reporters on ESPN. And then in October of 2001, Tony's fairy godmother hooked him up with Michael Wilbon, turned a pumpkin into a carriage, and carried them both to a wonderful program called Pardon the Interruption. And it was magical. An old New York Jew and a Midwestern black man would bicker for half an hour about sports and Tonya Harding and somehow we were all put under their spell.
But then, one fateful day, an evil wizard captured Tony and put him in front of millions as the co-host of Monday Night Football. And cursed our beloved Tony, transforming him into a drooling, screeching idiot.
So now Tony is trapped on MNF, doing grating broadcast after grating broadcast. Constantly replaced on PTI by such unlikeable goyishe boobs as Bob Ryan and Dan LeBatard. Kept from writing a column for the past two years.
And yet we dream. We hope someday Tony will escape this evil fate and return to us a better, wiser, less annoying man.
So we can all live happily ever after.