For the past couple of months, I’ve been battling severe bronchitis. My lungs were on fire. My throat was closed shut. My voice was gone for weeks. And I was about as productive as Congress on a deadline.
To wit, I was forced to catch up on binge viewing and some trashy TV. As I was filling my body full of enough drugs to make Rob Ford jealous and filling my body my all sorts of trash, I was
enjoying just watching dregs of society looking for their 15 minutes of fame (while using 12 of those trying to figure out how to speak a coherent sentence).
So, one good thing came of out this mid-morning experience — 5 PR lessons all flacks can learn from Maury.