Sonny Blogs the Sunday edition of the Free Press - LIVE!!!
As regular readers of this blog know, this past spring I cancelled my home-delivery subscription to London's only daily newspaper, The Free Press. After a quarter century.
The main reason had to do with service. The lack of it. Personified by my 'paper-boy' - a grown man driving a Pinto - who managed to forget our house every other day.
And then I realized that I could pretty well get the whole thing on-line - but that only confirmed what I had long been suspecting for years - that I wasn't missing anything.
There are two differences between the actual print edition and the on-line edition. The first is that you get blogs with the computer Free Press. And that's the thing I check out the most. Even though Dan Brown and James R. Junior are the only ones who understand the concept of a 'blog.' Being that you write about a 'topic' and if anyone bothers to 'comment' on it, you show them the good manners of replying.
Obviously the Editors don't get it. Between the three of them, they put out a new post about once a week and they never respond to comments. Shit, even I do better than that.
Freeps blogger Ian G. never did either - although I assume that was chiefly because his attitude was that he was busy enough doing his real job, let alone keeping an unpaid on-line diary. Ironically, he probably has lots of time on his hands these days now that his column has been taken away and he's being punished by being put on the copy-editing beat. Ian - years ago, management tried the same shit with Theatre Critic Doug and Movie Guy Noel. They both put up with it. They 'McCained' it through all that crap. Noel even got a part-time job as lead-singer for the rock band 'Oasis.' So hang in there, big fella!
And that brings us to the main difference between the on-line and the print version of the London Free Press. No Ann Landers, and no funnies. Which are the real reason most people get the paper. Because other than crank letters to the editor, the funnies and Letters to a Dead Advice Lady, are the only guaranteed entertainment in the entire newspaper.
And I am being charitable here. Because 95 per-cent of the 'funnies' aren't. Once or twice a week 'Bizarro' is good. 'Retail' is usually worth a wry grin - when it isn't being political instead of showing off Marla's perky breasts. Same with 'Zits.'
And so what do you have left? 'Crankshaft' - I like that. 'Sherman's Lagoon' - not bad but too wordy. 'Henry' - not bad, but again - too wordy. 'Funky Winterbean' is hardly ever even about 'Funky' - and for good reason. What an asshole. And I'm getting a little tired of the goateed English teacher whose wife died from cancer last week. As for 'Better or For Worst' - don't even get me started.
Besides, since blogger Doug Rogers hipped me onto houstonchronicle.com I get my daily fix for the funnies right there. And the joy of becoming reacquainted with old friends. They're all there. 'Blondie,' 'Peanuts,' 'Dick Tracy,' 'Rex Morgan, Mister Doctor,' 'Marmaduke,' 'Family Circus.' Even 'Beetle Bailey.' Pretty well everything but 'Andy Capp.'
And that's the part of the newspaper I miss the most. That guaranteed 'Your Morning Chuckle' - whether it came from Ann Landers ("is this another prank letter from the boys at Yale?") or Dagwood Bumstead. For most of the last half-century, that's been part of my morning ritual. Coffee, cigarette, newspaper. Save the funnies and Ann Landers till the end. Something I learned from my kids when they started school and taking a lunch - Save the Best for Last.
Prior to that, reading the paper was an afternoon thing. Because when I was a kid, a newspaper came out in three editions - morning, afternoon and the 'late' edition - which you only bought if the Broadway play you were appearing in was being reviewed.
One thing I'll say about my parents - never an arguement in front of the kids, and always a newspaper on the kitchen table.
So you were a kid and didn't drink coffee so you took the paper to the living room and read it while your Mom was watching her 'stories' or your Dad was watching 'Truth or Consequences' or 'I've Got a Secret.' The thing is, for most of my life, sitting down with a newspaper in my lap has been a daily thing. And I kind of miss it.
That's why I didn't object too much when Mavis got an offer she couldn't refuse from a telephone solicitor who was pimping the London Free Press. Two bucks a week for delivery. Why that's the same price as the Saturday edition of the Free Press alone.
Well, turns out that the fellow on the phone misrepresented himself - because that's exactly what we got. Home delivery of the Saturday paper. FOR TWO BUCKS!!! A savings which translates to 'Nothing.' Whatta deal!
Anyway, I've already cancelled. Because you know, despite it's nation-wide reputation as 'The Worse Daily Newspaper in all of Canada,' I LIKE the London Free Press. I understand the problems with the economy, blah, blah, blah which makes them run a skeleton operation. It's happened in all of the media where two companies own everything. And if the paper is lame, it's not because of the writers - it's because there isn't enough of them.
Now, as for Customer Service. There isn't any. When you don't get your paper that morning you have two options. Complain. Or don't waste your time or breath because in the time it takes to get through to someone, you could have read the entire damn paper, word by word.
And the Free Press knows this too. You didn't get your paper this morning? You call a number out of the phone book. Which tells you to phone another number to register your complaint. The arrogance ia just amazing.
So anyway, Mavis orders the paper over the phone from some smooth-talkin' mutha-fukka, ya know what I sayin'? It came last Saturday. Three days later, an invoice was hand-delivered. THIS Saturday, no paper. We're talking the second delivery date here.
I call up, I dodge that recorded message bit about typing in your area code and phone number if your paper hasn't arrived and I press 'O' so I can talk to a live person. I register my complaint. I retell the story about why I cancelled after 25 years, I tell him that in our latest round that so far the paperboy is batting 50-50 after only two weeks - and that's when the polite young man on the other end reassures me that a replacement Saturday Free Press is on it's way to my house - and that he is also sending a note to the paper-boy about the importance of good quality service.
Long story short - the Saturday paper never arrived. But this morning we got the Sunday edition of the paper. Which takes about two minutes tops to read.
Are you doubting me? Well, I have it right in front of me. Let's have a little look-see shall we?
Front page - colour photo of kids on a ride at the Western Fair. Nice shot as always by Morris Lamont. But quite frankly, since the Fair opened on Friday, I expected this to be the front-page photo in yesterday's edition. And it's the sort of thing that could be slotted in any day of the week really. And it has 'The Londoner' written all over it.
Page 2 from our local paper - the headline "Excitement in Woodstock over Toyota plant wanes as everyone is laid off." That's half the page. Alongside the copy, they don't have a photo of the proposed auto plant. Or even a snap-shot of someone's Toyota in the Free Press parking lot. Instead, we have a photo of a guy in front of a hand-made sign reading 'Cemetary.'
Cemetary, not being Woodstock (because London rightfully claimed those rights years ago before giving the suburbs such names as 'Sunningdale' and 'Missisauga's Envy',) but it was time for the annual autumn story about some farmer who makes a maze out of his corn-field because the profit in corn has been so bad in the past decade even though one third of the world is starving - and this year he's gone with a Zombie motif.
Page 3 - big story about mazes in corn fields. By one of the Free Press' summer staff.
Page 4 - full page story (meaning no ads,) with the headline- "Literacy's awful truths." Lead sentence - "Quick now, would you know if your reading and writing skills weren't up to snuff?" ... quick now - do you really give a shit?
Page 5 - Headline - "Fanshawe 'disgusted' by students' behavior." As are we all. And underneath the story was a photo of three good-looking first-year Western girls on a street corner of downtown London going out of their way to harass the innocent for spare change for Jerry's Kids. Easily the most obnoxious annoying students one can encounter on Shinerama Day which marks the first weekend of 'Students Back' - time to raise the rent and ignore the loud bad music - personally, I think I'd rather spend the night on Fleming Drive than with any of the rejects from 'Girls Gone Wild.'
Page 6 - to show there was a story to go along with the front page colour photo of the midway at Western Fair, we have a story with the headline "Fair boasts new exhibits but familiar food and fun." So instead of writing about how they kicked all those people who knew how to knit, grow big pumpkins and take nice pictures, we have a story about how the Progress Building has been turned over to the 'LifeStyles' crowd. And big women selling scooters.
Page 7 - James Junior writing about some London guy I never heard of from the olden days. But they gave him a whole page for it. So bless you for that James.
Pages 8 to whatever - are about the World and Nation. Another federal election blah, blah, blah, ending with a photo of the just-quit president of the Canadian Auto Workers Buzz Hargrove smooching with his wife at yesterday's CAW national convention. A little sugar on the jaw?!? That's it? She's a blonde bombshell! I don't know - maybe his heart really does belong to that Steven Dionne guy.
Page 11 - top of the page and a two-paragraph story on "Bhutto widower sweeps election." Probably the biggest news story of the past month but it's page 11 here, overtop a three-quarters page ad for The Grandstand shows at the Western Fair.
Page 12 - even though it's not in the ENTS section - the page is devoted to the Toronto Film Festival. Because the Free Press is owned by a Toronto conglomerate and so they have to run this hype. Even though no one reading the paper will go there, or even see any movies that are premiered there. Except for that new art-house flick with Brad Pett.
Page 13 is an ad. And it occurs to me at this point - where are all the stories about vice-president candidate Sarah Pollen? Does anyone on the Free Press editorial board even watch CNN?
No page 15 because that's where the paper takes on it's Sunday-only 'tabloid' format - and we have the Travel Section. Cover story goes by the headline 'Unseen Arkansas." That pretty well says it all but there's another two pages inside devoted to the subject.
Next page in 'Travel' - the headline, "Exceptional Essex a perfect getaway." You know, I've always enjoyed reading the weekend Travel section on any newspaper. Far away places, exotic locales, nude beaches and hotels you could never afford to stay in. But ESSEX?!? I can appreciate the idea of promoting semi-local tourist spots but even as someone who was raised in Windsor, Ont. - the county seat of Essex County, even I gag on the phrase 'Exceptional Essex.' Other than the illiteration value, that's a designation worthy of a class-action lawsuit. Shit, it would take a plane crash to make me visit that dump of a town.
Due to tabloid format the next page is the ENT section. The name of which translates into the 'Entertainment' section and the reason for the recent nationwide increase in the suicide rate of English and linguistic teachers.
The big story - the DVD release of the 'Charlie Chan' film franchise from the late 1940s. Years ago, I happen to have wasted many Saturday afternoons watching these things on TV - but is there an actual market for this stuff? Is it even worthy of a Cover Section story in a lame middle-American newspaper? Especially since in typically-Hollywood fashion, the guy who played 'Charlie' wasn't even Chinese.'
Next page - the best thing about the Sunday Free Press - reprints of the best monologue jokes from Late Night Television - Letterman to Leno and Jimmy K and even Craig the Scottish guy. They all have quips about the next Vice-President Sarah Polley. I wish they'd ease up and give her a break. I like her. I hope they get Sally Field to play her in real life.
Next page, the Sports Section - which is one-third of the actual paper. Even though all the scores are a day out of date.
End of sports section - on a weather forcast page - and the end of the ENT section across the spread. "Lots of skin on the tube," is the headline about the new fall TV season, accompanied by a colour photo of the cast of the new '90210' in a hot-tub. Pretty bland-looking cast. Diverse though. There's a guy who looks like a black version of IIIIan Ziering and a long-haired chick with a headband and one-piece leopard-skin bathing suit imported directly from the Isle of Lesbos. The rest look pretty supermodel boring in that 'Everybody Loves Raymond' sort of way. Me? Put Tori
Spelling in a bikini and I'm happy.
Page E-10 two pages of the Weekend Colour Funnies - even though one page of them are in black and white. Only in London. And with the dubious exception of 'Monty' - none of them are funny.
ENT page 12 - Top 5 Catty Remarks about David Duchovney's alleged 'sex addiction.' I don't know about you, but other than J. Edgar Hoover, there is probably no one's sex life that I am the least bit interested in than David Duchovney. Well, maybe David Spade. The first time we got a glimpse in Mulder's apartment - in like season three of 'X-Files' - and we saw a copy of 'Gents Only,' on his coffee-table, we pretty well knew everything we needed to know about David Duche.
Down to the last three pages of the paper before the Classified Ads pages. First page of three - the one devoted to National Affairs - goes by the headline, "Who'll Impress voters more, Harper or Dion?" Accompanied by a photo of John McCain working the crowd in Denver last week.
Next page - for a paper that brags about being LOCAL, there's nothing in the Editorial Section that's written by anyone who actually lives in this town. Only a few typically illiterate Letters to the Editor and the (Sunday only) 'Reader to Reader' which takes up an entire page.
No local voices. No Sean Twist. No Carmi. No Butch Maclarty. Herman G reduced from three times a week to now once every three weeks. They regulary get scooped by The Londoner on stories that are a month old and ...
... oh, what the hell. We get to the end of the paper and it's the only reason I even pick it up anymore.
The Obits. That's newsroom talk for 'The Obituaries.' Delegated to last page in the Free Press - the other side of an ad for a Used Car Dealershit. Life's kinda like that too though I guess.
Well, even in my shitty little blog here I can offer better than that - so let's all bow our heads and hope it was a good passing for -
ANTONY, Abraham "Abie"
COERT, Caroline Rynep - 94 years.
CUNNINGHAM, Beverly - 76.
GROVER, Gordon - 70.
KING, Donald "Wayne" 59.
McIntyre, Doris - 91.
... I guess that's why I'll keep buying that rag. Because of guys like "Abie" and Donald "Wayne" King. Shit man, cuz the name 'Donald' ain't dorky enough? Good luck once you get through the Pearly Gates brutha. Hope they ain't too much like Grade 9.
And remember - up there - everyone is a King. But even with such dorky first and middle names, you knew that all along anyway. Didn't you?
The main reason had to do with service. The lack of it. Personified by my 'paper-boy' - a grown man driving a Pinto - who managed to forget our house every other day.
And then I realized that I could pretty well get the whole thing on-line - but that only confirmed what I had long been suspecting for years - that I wasn't missing anything.
There are two differences between the actual print edition and the on-line edition. The first is that you get blogs with the computer Free Press. And that's the thing I check out the most. Even though Dan Brown and James R. Junior are the only ones who understand the concept of a 'blog.' Being that you write about a 'topic' and if anyone bothers to 'comment' on it, you show them the good manners of replying.
Obviously the Editors don't get it. Between the three of them, they put out a new post about once a week and they never respond to comments. Shit, even I do better than that.
Freeps blogger Ian G. never did either - although I assume that was chiefly because his attitude was that he was busy enough doing his real job, let alone keeping an unpaid on-line diary. Ironically, he probably has lots of time on his hands these days now that his column has been taken away and he's being punished by being put on the copy-editing beat. Ian - years ago, management tried the same shit with Theatre Critic Doug and Movie Guy Noel. They both put up with it. They 'McCained' it through all that crap. Noel even got a part-time job as lead-singer for the rock band 'Oasis.' So hang in there, big fella!
And that brings us to the main difference between the on-line and the print version of the London Free Press. No Ann Landers, and no funnies. Which are the real reason most people get the paper. Because other than crank letters to the editor, the funnies and Letters to a Dead Advice Lady, are the only guaranteed entertainment in the entire newspaper.
And I am being charitable here. Because 95 per-cent of the 'funnies' aren't. Once or twice a week 'Bizarro' is good. 'Retail' is usually worth a wry grin - when it isn't being political instead of showing off Marla's perky breasts. Same with 'Zits.'
And so what do you have left? 'Crankshaft' - I like that. 'Sherman's Lagoon' - not bad but too wordy. 'Henry' - not bad, but again - too wordy. 'Funky Winterbean' is hardly ever even about 'Funky' - and for good reason. What an asshole. And I'm getting a little tired of the goateed English teacher whose wife died from cancer last week. As for 'Better or For Worst' - don't even get me started.
Besides, since blogger Doug Rogers hipped me onto houstonchronicle.com I get my daily fix for the funnies right there. And the joy of becoming reacquainted with old friends. They're all there. 'Blondie,' 'Peanuts,' 'Dick Tracy,' 'Rex Morgan, Mister Doctor,' 'Marmaduke,' 'Family Circus.' Even 'Beetle Bailey.' Pretty well everything but 'Andy Capp.'
And that's the part of the newspaper I miss the most. That guaranteed 'Your Morning Chuckle' - whether it came from Ann Landers ("is this another prank letter from the boys at Yale?") or Dagwood Bumstead. For most of the last half-century, that's been part of my morning ritual. Coffee, cigarette, newspaper. Save the funnies and Ann Landers till the end. Something I learned from my kids when they started school and taking a lunch - Save the Best for Last.
Prior to that, reading the paper was an afternoon thing. Because when I was a kid, a newspaper came out in three editions - morning, afternoon and the 'late' edition - which you only bought if the Broadway play you were appearing in was being reviewed.
One thing I'll say about my parents - never an arguement in front of the kids, and always a newspaper on the kitchen table.
So you were a kid and didn't drink coffee so you took the paper to the living room and read it while your Mom was watching her 'stories' or your Dad was watching 'Truth or Consequences' or 'I've Got a Secret.' The thing is, for most of my life, sitting down with a newspaper in my lap has been a daily thing. And I kind of miss it.
That's why I didn't object too much when Mavis got an offer she couldn't refuse from a telephone solicitor who was pimping the London Free Press. Two bucks a week for delivery. Why that's the same price as the Saturday edition of the Free Press alone.
Well, turns out that the fellow on the phone misrepresented himself - because that's exactly what we got. Home delivery of the Saturday paper. FOR TWO BUCKS!!! A savings which translates to 'Nothing.' Whatta deal!
Anyway, I've already cancelled. Because you know, despite it's nation-wide reputation as 'The Worse Daily Newspaper in all of Canada,' I LIKE the London Free Press. I understand the problems with the economy, blah, blah, blah which makes them run a skeleton operation. It's happened in all of the media where two companies own everything. And if the paper is lame, it's not because of the writers - it's because there isn't enough of them.
Now, as for Customer Service. There isn't any. When you don't get your paper that morning you have two options. Complain. Or don't waste your time or breath because in the time it takes to get through to someone, you could have read the entire damn paper, word by word.
And the Free Press knows this too. You didn't get your paper this morning? You call a number out of the phone book. Which tells you to phone another number to register your complaint. The arrogance ia just amazing.
So anyway, Mavis orders the paper over the phone from some smooth-talkin' mutha-fukka, ya know what I sayin'? It came last Saturday. Three days later, an invoice was hand-delivered. THIS Saturday, no paper. We're talking the second delivery date here.
I call up, I dodge that recorded message bit about typing in your area code and phone number if your paper hasn't arrived and I press 'O' so I can talk to a live person. I register my complaint. I retell the story about why I cancelled after 25 years, I tell him that in our latest round that so far the paperboy is batting 50-50 after only two weeks - and that's when the polite young man on the other end reassures me that a replacement Saturday Free Press is on it's way to my house - and that he is also sending a note to the paper-boy about the importance of good quality service.
Long story short - the Saturday paper never arrived. But this morning we got the Sunday edition of the paper. Which takes about two minutes tops to read.
Are you doubting me? Well, I have it right in front of me. Let's have a little look-see shall we?
Front page - colour photo of kids on a ride at the Western Fair. Nice shot as always by Morris Lamont. But quite frankly, since the Fair opened on Friday, I expected this to be the front-page photo in yesterday's edition. And it's the sort of thing that could be slotted in any day of the week really. And it has 'The Londoner' written all over it.
Page 2 from our local paper - the headline "Excitement in Woodstock over Toyota plant wanes as everyone is laid off." That's half the page. Alongside the copy, they don't have a photo of the proposed auto plant. Or even a snap-shot of someone's Toyota in the Free Press parking lot. Instead, we have a photo of a guy in front of a hand-made sign reading 'Cemetary.'
Cemetary, not being Woodstock (because London rightfully claimed those rights years ago before giving the suburbs such names as 'Sunningdale' and 'Missisauga's Envy',) but it was time for the annual autumn story about some farmer who makes a maze out of his corn-field because the profit in corn has been so bad in the past decade even though one third of the world is starving - and this year he's gone with a Zombie motif.
Page 3 - big story about mazes in corn fields. By one of the Free Press' summer staff.
Page 4 - full page story (meaning no ads,) with the headline- "Literacy's awful truths." Lead sentence - "Quick now, would you know if your reading and writing skills weren't up to snuff?" ... quick now - do you really give a shit?
Page 5 - Headline - "Fanshawe 'disgusted' by students' behavior." As are we all. And underneath the story was a photo of three good-looking first-year Western girls on a street corner of downtown London going out of their way to harass the innocent for spare change for Jerry's Kids. Easily the most obnoxious annoying students one can encounter on Shinerama Day which marks the first weekend of 'Students Back' - time to raise the rent and ignore the loud bad music - personally, I think I'd rather spend the night on Fleming Drive than with any of the rejects from 'Girls Gone Wild.'
Page 6 - to show there was a story to go along with the front page colour photo of the midway at Western Fair, we have a story with the headline "Fair boasts new exhibits but familiar food and fun." So instead of writing about how they kicked all those people who knew how to knit, grow big pumpkins and take nice pictures, we have a story about how the Progress Building has been turned over to the 'LifeStyles' crowd. And big women selling scooters.
Page 7 - James Junior writing about some London guy I never heard of from the olden days. But they gave him a whole page for it. So bless you for that James.
Pages 8 to whatever - are about the World and Nation. Another federal election blah, blah, blah, ending with a photo of the just-quit president of the Canadian Auto Workers Buzz Hargrove smooching with his wife at yesterday's CAW national convention. A little sugar on the jaw?!? That's it? She's a blonde bombshell! I don't know - maybe his heart really does belong to that Steven Dionne guy.
Page 11 - top of the page and a two-paragraph story on "Bhutto widower sweeps election." Probably the biggest news story of the past month but it's page 11 here, overtop a three-quarters page ad for The Grandstand shows at the Western Fair.
Page 12 - even though it's not in the ENTS section - the page is devoted to the Toronto Film Festival. Because the Free Press is owned by a Toronto conglomerate and so they have to run this hype. Even though no one reading the paper will go there, or even see any movies that are premiered there. Except for that new art-house flick with Brad Pett.
Page 13 is an ad. And it occurs to me at this point - where are all the stories about vice-president candidate Sarah Pollen? Does anyone on the Free Press editorial board even watch CNN?
No page 15 because that's where the paper takes on it's Sunday-only 'tabloid' format - and we have the Travel Section. Cover story goes by the headline 'Unseen Arkansas." That pretty well says it all but there's another two pages inside devoted to the subject.
Next page in 'Travel' - the headline, "Exceptional Essex a perfect getaway." You know, I've always enjoyed reading the weekend Travel section on any newspaper. Far away places, exotic locales, nude beaches and hotels you could never afford to stay in. But ESSEX?!? I can appreciate the idea of promoting semi-local tourist spots but even as someone who was raised in Windsor, Ont. - the county seat of Essex County, even I gag on the phrase 'Exceptional Essex.' Other than the illiteration value, that's a designation worthy of a class-action lawsuit. Shit, it would take a plane crash to make me visit that dump of a town.
Due to tabloid format the next page is the ENT section. The name of which translates into the 'Entertainment' section and the reason for the recent nationwide increase in the suicide rate of English and linguistic teachers.
The big story - the DVD release of the 'Charlie Chan' film franchise from the late 1940s. Years ago, I happen to have wasted many Saturday afternoons watching these things on TV - but is there an actual market for this stuff? Is it even worthy of a Cover Section story in a lame middle-American newspaper? Especially since in typically-Hollywood fashion, the guy who played 'Charlie' wasn't even Chinese.'
Next page - the best thing about the Sunday Free Press - reprints of the best monologue jokes from Late Night Television - Letterman to Leno and Jimmy K and even Craig the Scottish guy. They all have quips about the next Vice-President Sarah Polley. I wish they'd ease up and give her a break. I like her. I hope they get Sally Field to play her in real life.
Next page, the Sports Section - which is one-third of the actual paper. Even though all the scores are a day out of date.
End of sports section - on a weather forcast page - and the end of the ENT section across the spread. "Lots of skin on the tube," is the headline about the new fall TV season, accompanied by a colour photo of the cast of the new '90210' in a hot-tub. Pretty bland-looking cast. Diverse though. There's a guy who looks like a black version of IIIIan Ziering and a long-haired chick with a headband and one-piece leopard-skin bathing suit imported directly from the Isle of Lesbos. The rest look pretty supermodel boring in that 'Everybody Loves Raymond' sort of way. Me? Put Tori
Spelling in a bikini and I'm happy.
Page E-10 two pages of the Weekend Colour Funnies - even though one page of them are in black and white. Only in London. And with the dubious exception of 'Monty' - none of them are funny.
ENT page 12 - Top 5 Catty Remarks about David Duchovney's alleged 'sex addiction.' I don't know about you, but other than J. Edgar Hoover, there is probably no one's sex life that I am the least bit interested in than David Duchovney. Well, maybe David Spade. The first time we got a glimpse in Mulder's apartment - in like season three of 'X-Files' - and we saw a copy of 'Gents Only,' on his coffee-table, we pretty well knew everything we needed to know about David Duche.
Down to the last three pages of the paper before the Classified Ads pages. First page of three - the one devoted to National Affairs - goes by the headline, "Who'll Impress voters more, Harper or Dion?" Accompanied by a photo of John McCain working the crowd in Denver last week.
Next page - for a paper that brags about being LOCAL, there's nothing in the Editorial Section that's written by anyone who actually lives in this town. Only a few typically illiterate Letters to the Editor and the (Sunday only) 'Reader to Reader' which takes up an entire page.
No local voices. No Sean Twist. No Carmi. No Butch Maclarty. Herman G reduced from three times a week to now once every three weeks. They regulary get scooped by The Londoner on stories that are a month old and ...
... oh, what the hell. We get to the end of the paper and it's the only reason I even pick it up anymore.
The Obits. That's newsroom talk for 'The Obituaries.' Delegated to last page in the Free Press - the other side of an ad for a Used Car Dealershit. Life's kinda like that too though I guess.
Well, even in my shitty little blog here I can offer better than that - so let's all bow our heads and hope it was a good passing for -
ANTONY, Abraham "Abie"
COERT, Caroline Rynep - 94 years.
CUNNINGHAM, Beverly - 76.
GROVER, Gordon - 70.
KING, Donald "Wayne" 59.
McIntyre, Doris - 91.
... I guess that's why I'll keep buying that rag. Because of guys like "Abie" and Donald "Wayne" King. Shit man, cuz the name 'Donald' ain't dorky enough? Good luck once you get through the Pearly Gates brutha. Hope they ain't too much like Grade 9.
And remember - up there - everyone is a King. But even with such dorky first and middle names, you knew that all along anyway. Didn't you?
posted by Sonny Drysdale at 4:58 AM
12 Comments:
Your take on the Freeps was actually more entertaining than anything they've done in years.
And funny how they Freeps ignores the cat killing up at Fanshawe? I mean, it's only an animal.
I"m sure Sarah Pollen would just call it 'hi-jinks'.
Great live blogging. I am giving up on that particular form until I can approach what you have done here. Which is never. Otherwise, what KD said.
Sonny, you sound like a candidate for The Comics Curmudgeon.
http://joshreads.com/
There's a whole bunch of people who hate the same comics you do.
and if your on a Mac - anybody - Google SurfRabbit. It will allow some pretty extensive editing of web pages so they display the way you want then to.
This comment has been removed by the author.
Sonny, let's look at it from Sun Media-Quebecor's perspective.
Install a candy-assed yes person as publisher of the LFP. Ditto for editor-in-chief.
Milk the newspaper and London for every last advertising dollar generating huge profits while laying everyone off at the newspaper, save and except a few hearty sluggos who are on auto-pilot anyway.
Most Londoners wouldn't get up off their collective asses to protest anything, let alone the gutting of their daily newspaper.
Christ, you could probably move right into the homes of most Londoners, put them out back in a tent and tell them that it's new Canadian law and they would barely complain. They'd probably even cook you breakfast and serve it to you in their fucking bed.
London is chock-full of unconscious pussies waiting for the revolution to happen, not recognizing that you've got to grab the bull by the horns and make it happen!
Kinda like LACH rolling over like well-fed little puppy dogs regarding the Brunswick; ditto for the now-demolished Bishop's manse next to St. Peter's.
This town has the heart of a shit-stained poltroon under its present leadership. Clueless about how to resist anything and play hardball to eradicate the exploitation.
But then you've got to have three brain cells to rub together to recognize "exploitation," no?
Thanks all. And that's how I spent my Sunday morning - writing about a newspaper that should have taken three minutes tops to read.
I'd rather read your blog over breakfast than an air-filled wisp of a paper delivered to my house by someone in a Pinto (Pinto? Man, haven't seen one of those in ages!)
Thank you for the mention. It's been two years since the paper sliced its roster of local writers. Not that we were ever advised, mind you. I submitted a piece on my regular schedule. When I didn't hear back, I pinged the copy editor, who solemnly advised me that the editorial pages were being severely cut back and local columnists were no longer on the radar.
Nice.
I hear that once upon a time it was a reader-focused paper. I decided to write for it because I truly - naively? - felt that I could make a difference, that I could carve out a little niche of human-scale reality and touch readers in the process. I accomplished that, and was immensely saddened to see it summarily dismantled by spreadsheet-driving, tabloid-loving decision makers who have no idea what makes this town tick.
Obviously, some folks never really learned to appreciate the subtleties of great journalism. Which largely explains its waning relevance in this city's media landscape.
Well, Carmi - at least it was a human voice at the Free Press who told you that your services were no longer needed.
I'm told most of your colleagues got their lay-off notices in a mass-email sent out right before the editor left for the day on a month-long vacation.
But the best one of all has to be Rory L. who learned that his column was being cut back from every other weekend to 'occassionally' in even a more inhumane manner.
He was in a bad bicycle accident and from his hospital room his wife phoned the Free Press because Rory was worried that he wouldn't be able to meet his usual deadline.
"Oh, don't worry," she was told. "We were planning on cutting back his column anyway."
Kid Dork's tale of his 'termination' at the hands of Margaret Atwood Junior is good too, but I think Rory's takes the prize for insensitivity. And as you know, writer-guys are a pretty thin-skinned bunch.
Sonny, tell 'em how you got jarred after one of your middle-aged publisher's developed a severe case of Downe Syndrome.
Butch, you must be talking about Bret Clowne, the publisher of 'Spleen Magazine.'
I remember having to write to find out if I had actually been fired. A simple "yes" or "no" question, right?
And I didn't even get a straight answer. But at the bottom of his email was his signature sign-off - "Have a nice day. Sincerely N. Breton Clowne."
To this day, I still don't know if I got fired or if I quit.
From http://www.altlondon.org
LATEST POST FROM THE SAVE THE WICK!
FACEBOOK ACCOUNT:Jeff Mittelholtz (London, ON) wrote at 6:47pm:
"All bands are being evicted from the upstairs of the Wick...those on the 3rd floor have to be out by Sept 14th @ 2pm...the 2nd floor bands have til the end of the month....I'm told that this is so the guy can start rippin and tearing...and that the guy does not care....theres signs posted upstairs, kind of ominous."
Save the Wick! Facebook account:
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=23148393540
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