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“Type faster, damn you.”
The Democratic National Convention press room was located deep in the guts of the Pepsi Center, and when I stopped by on Wednesday afternoon, nearly every seat was occupied — and no one seemed to be having the slightest fun. It reminded me of the scene from The Producers when Matthew Broderick decided to stop being an office drone and live a very different dream, except without the moment of triumph or the catchy show tune to liven things up. Journalism fever: catch it. — Michael Roberts
