Death Of a Newspaper Man


So I’m sitting here listening to Bob Dylan, drinking a quart-sized bottle of Labatt Blue, and feeling very depressed about my life.

Why?

I just read this.

Basically, I am never getting a job…ever.
Guess it’s a good thing that I’m young and can learn to adapt to the internet.

But I don’t want to.

There’s nothing quite like unfolding the New York Times in the morning or cracking the spine of the newest Rolling Stone. The smell, the feeling. It’s tangible. It’s in your hands. You can feel it. The words are on the page. The fact that print journalism is a dying breed pains me. Aside from convenience when you’re in a rush, I don’t understand why anyone would get their news off the internet instead of from a real-life newspaper.

Maybe it’s just me wanting to live out my dream, but there’s something to be said about the craft of reporting and editing–proof reading, recording interviews, scribbling all over drafts with red pen. The fact is, however, that no one has time to go get a newspaper, and why should they pay 50 or 75 cents for something they can get for free on the internet?

This is my idea…so that I can save my proposed career path from disappearing like the dinosaurs. Publications should start charging a nominal fee for viewing their websites, like The Wall Street Journal. Or play it like Rolling Stone who only put excerpts of published articles and then supplemental information to encourage readers to actually buy the magazine.

Get your hands dirty. Literally. Unfold that newspaper and get them all gray and newsprint-y. Pay for your news people. Save a paper. Save my future job.

Oh, and recycle it when you’re done.

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