Again...
4 hours and 9 minutes into the race is when the Average Joe's are finishing up, is when the winners' interviews are over, is when the sidewalks are crowded with family and friends. It wasn't surprising that the woman crossing the finish line was more absorbed in the buttons on her wristwatch than on the boom-cum-smoke behind her. The pictures will soon be iconic - the young father carrying an infant, cradling that little head in his hands, the runners crumpling to the ground as the concussive force of the blast met their within-sight-of-the-finish-line-exhausted bodies, the brightly colored flags waving in the white smoke. There will be stories of heroism and near misses; I'm so glad you got off that rooftop, Miss Sarah. But that is in the future. Right now, my head is about to explode. TBG's voice held more outrage than did the reporter and eyewitness for the Boston Globe, who was giving his first hand account on CNBC. There was a curiously flat aff...