It's amazing that the amount of news that happens in the world every day always just exactly fits the newspaper. -Jerry Seinfeld
One of the most important things I did on November 5th was asking my dad if he could pick me up a copy of the Chicago Tribune. I wanted a keepsake from the election that I could hold in my hands. Not just the memories, or Youtube videos of results coming in, but something I could actually hand to my kids one day.
At the time, I didn’t realize the newspaper itself could be a relic.
I wanted the newspaper because it wasn’t a singular story. The front page, above the fold story isn't all that's there. Newspapers are collective. There are no links to different pages, just…regular old pages. Pages that you try to balance with your coffee on the couch on Sunday morning or read in bumper-to-bumper traffic on Monday. Some of us line our birdcages with it - really, try doing that with CNN.com!
What used to be part of everyone’s day now comes sandwiched between an inbox and gossip site of choice. No more inky fingers or kids figuring out what happens when you introduce Silly Putty to the Comics page. Now we’re supposed to comment underneath when we have something to say, “digg” the articles we like, and bookmark the ones that stand out.
With the economy in doom-and-gloom mode, we aren’t just choosing what to read anymore, we’re choosing how to read it. Why bother paying for a newspaper to be dropped off at your door before dawn every morning if you have to keep paying for internet service anyway? Why does the 50-year-old man need the Style section, anyway? He doesn’t. Does the stubborn Democrat want to read Ann Coulter’s weekly column? Not so much. Does my mother, who calls athletes “sports guys,” read the Sports page? Not a snowball’s chance in hell.
Because of this long-coming trend, newspaper subscriptions have been dropping steadily for years. Add in that whole “Hey, where‘d the money go?“ issue and it’s obvious why newspapers from Seattle to Boston are sinking. Alec Baldwin informs me that even The New York Times, basically THE iconic newspaper, isn’t selling out by mid-morning like it used to. In a bid for more ad revenue, it’s previously “pure” front page actually just ran its first ad. (He still has a soft spot for it, though.)
Obviously, I get it. I bookmark, I comment - I don’t “digg;” maybe I’m just not that hip. But as a newspaperless nation, we’d be missing something. The Sunday ads, the 50-year anniversary announcements, even Parade Magazine. Middle class jobs at newspapers would be replaced with lower paying jobs in the tech sector. Nobody would know their own local news anymore. I can count on one hand how many times I've gone to my own city's website. Politicians certainly wouldn't be held accountable. People already get to choose their news from the left or right, which is, let's be honest, making us all a little crazy. Journalism - of the Carl Bernstein variety, not the Glenn Beck kind - is…well, if you know that Glenn Beck is nuts, you know exactly what’s happening there. Sadly.
I don’t have a solution to this problem. What I do have is respect for the old and fascination with the new. That’s as good a place as any to start.
At the time, I didn’t realize the newspaper itself could be a relic.
I wanted the newspaper because it wasn’t a singular story. The front page, above the fold story isn't all that's there. Newspapers are collective. There are no links to different pages, just…regular old pages. Pages that you try to balance with your coffee on the couch on Sunday morning or read in bumper-to-bumper traffic on Monday. Some of us line our birdcages with it - really, try doing that with CNN.com!
What used to be part of everyone’s day now comes sandwiched between an inbox and gossip site of choice. No more inky fingers or kids figuring out what happens when you introduce Silly Putty to the Comics page. Now we’re supposed to comment underneath when we have something to say, “digg” the articles we like, and bookmark the ones that stand out.
With the economy in doom-and-gloom mode, we aren’t just choosing what to read anymore, we’re choosing how to read it. Why bother paying for a newspaper to be dropped off at your door before dawn every morning if you have to keep paying for internet service anyway? Why does the 50-year-old man need the Style section, anyway? He doesn’t. Does the stubborn Democrat want to read Ann Coulter’s weekly column? Not so much. Does my mother, who calls athletes “sports guys,” read the Sports page? Not a snowball’s chance in hell.
Because of this long-coming trend, newspaper subscriptions have been dropping steadily for years. Add in that whole “Hey, where‘d the money go?“ issue and it’s obvious why newspapers from Seattle to Boston are sinking. Alec Baldwin informs me that even The New York Times, basically THE iconic newspaper, isn’t selling out by mid-morning like it used to. In a bid for more ad revenue, it’s previously “pure” front page actually just ran its first ad. (He still has a soft spot for it, though.)
Obviously, I get it. I bookmark, I comment - I don’t “digg;” maybe I’m just not that hip. But as a newspaperless nation, we’d be missing something. The Sunday ads, the 50-year anniversary announcements, even Parade Magazine. Middle class jobs at newspapers would be replaced with lower paying jobs in the tech sector. Nobody would know their own local news anymore. I can count on one hand how many times I've gone to my own city's website. Politicians certainly wouldn't be held accountable. People already get to choose their news from the left or right, which is, let's be honest, making us all a little crazy. Journalism - of the Carl Bernstein variety, not the Glenn Beck kind - is…well, if you know that Glenn Beck is nuts, you know exactly what’s happening there. Sadly.
I don’t have a solution to this problem. What I do have is respect for the old and fascination with the new. That’s as good a place as any to start.
Nikki Leibhan
If I had to estimate, I would have to say I easily spend more than half of my time in front of computer screens. Between school, looking through own interest, and my never-ending search for music, I have obtained severe anxiety over the future of my eyes and sight. This much time staring at a monitor can't be good for anyone. In this rapidly evolving era, its nice to take a break from the obnoxious world that the internet is becoming and just read a plain old newspaper.
ReplyDeleteBut I can count on one hand how many times I've picked up a newspaper actually looking for something specifically. The scary part in this is that I know how to look for something in a newspaper, or use a map. It seems like these abilities are becoming unnecessary for the next generation.
While I mourn this slow passing of the great tradition of the newspaper, I do not believe it is worth a bailout. Unemployment and the whole state of the economy is terrible, but that is another conversation. I do not see the newspaper completely disappearing, not completely, not ever. We have an obesity problem in this country, and perhaps slimming down the newspapers isn't a bad thing at all.