About: UnBooks:Tuesdays with Maury

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An Entity of Type : owl:Thing, within Data Space : 134.155.108.49:8890 associated with source dataset(s)

Though our family was poor, and my sister deaf, my father still managed to raise enough money for me to attend a workshop my hero Maury was conducting. It was a dream come true for my young self; I couldn't sleep the night before, anticipating the next day in which I'd be able to gaze the visage of a living legend. I laid out my clothing, collected a few articles I'd written, and curled up tightly under the covers, giddy with excitement. "WHO THE HELL IS IT?!" screamed the voice on the other side. "Um.. your complimentary foot massage, Mr. Povich!" "Well its about freakin' time."

Attributes	Values
rdfs:label	UnBooks:Tuesdays with Maury
rdfs:comment	Though our family was poor, and my sister deaf, my father still managed to raise enough money for me to attend a workshop my hero Maury was conducting. It was a dream come true for my young self; I couldn't sleep the night before, anticipating the next day in which I'd be able to gaze the visage of a living legend. I laid out my clothing, collected a few articles I'd written, and curled up tightly under the covers, giddy with excitement. "WHO THE HELL IS IT?!" screamed the voice on the other side. "Um.. your complimentary foot massage, Mr. Povich!" "Well its about freakin' time."
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Revision	2374148(xsd:integer)
Date	2007-09-22(xsd:date)
abstract	Though our family was poor, and my sister deaf, my father still managed to raise enough money for me to attend a workshop my hero Maury was conducting. It was a dream come true for my young self; I couldn't sleep the night before, anticipating the next day in which I'd be able to gaze the visage of a living legend. I laid out my clothing, collected a few articles I'd written, and curled up tightly under the covers, giddy with excitement. When that next day -- a Tuesday -- finally came around, I sprung from my bed, nearly hitting my head on the ceiling fan. I put on the clothes, forgot the articles, and boarded the courtesy shuttle bound for the Marriott downtown. It was finally time. When we arrived, I skipped every exhibition and went straight into the main hall, where I waited several hours. I didn't mind the wait; this was where Maury would be speaking. Day became evening, and Maury took the stage. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him. He was tall, well-postured; everything a reporter should be. When he spoke, I felt as if he were talking directly to me alone: "Never give the people what they want" he said boldly "as a journalist, you must give the people what they NEED." Those words I would take with me forever. After his speech, I hopped the guard rails and sneaked past the burly security men; I was going to meet Maury no matter what. I poked around backstage before finding a door with a star hanging from it (crookedly). Written on the paper star was MAURY POVICH, in bold blue ink. "Wow...I've never met a hero before" I thought to myself. I knocked on the door. "WHO THE HELL IS IT?!" screamed the voice on the other side. "Um.. your complimentary foot massage, Mr. Povich!" "Well its about freakin' time." The door swung open and there he was, grand and magical. He looked down at my awestruck face. "Who the hell are-- wait a minute, you're no licensed massage therapist! You're just some kid!" The door closed. I was elated just knowing that forever more, I could say that I'd really spoken to king of journalists. Little did I know what the future had in store for us.

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