Lex Jurgen - February 5, 2015
Brian Williams kind of remembers being on an Air Force chopper that took two missiles to the tail and hit the deck during the U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003. Though it turns out he merely interviewed the guys on that downed flight before being whisked away by the military brass to his Kuwaiti hotel for prime rib and chianti. You have to attribute this one to the fog of war. I remember one time thinking I'd had sex with Jessica Alba but it turned out to be the girl with canker sores who hangs out by my local bodega begging for smokes. I just remember she was brunette. Brian Williams was finally called on his bullshit a decade later by a few of the airmen who actually were on the crash landed helicopter:
"It was something personal for us that was kind of life-changing for me. I've know how lucky I was to survive it. It felt like a personal experience that someone else wanted to participate in and didn't deserve to participate in."
Awkward. Williams shuffled some papers, turned off the video of his daughter getting her ass motor-boated on Girls, then came up with an apology so dense and long and obtuse that you want it to make sense just so you can stop reading it. There's really no way to spin misremembering your wild journey on a shot down aircraft you were never really on. Maybe if your limo is routinely struck with rocket fire on your way into Manhattan each afternoon, you might start to mix up the days you took RPGs versus anti-aircraft flak. I bet Williams can tell you the precise days his Cobb salad at the Rainbow Room was light on bleu cheese. In a more perfect world, he'd now be tarred and feathered in the public square. Instead, anticipate a raise from NBC and a journalism award given out at the Met. Lying is nothing compared to nice hair.
Photo credit: Getty Images
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