Wednesday, December 11, 2019

Extra Extra, Download All About It...

There is a God.. and we're wonderfully reminded daily.

That first ray of sunshine peeking thru the curtains.. The hound who sees your eyes opened, beating his tail in happiness as he knows food, fun, again ahead for another day.

The cat who has the very purrfect way to awaken you - rhythmic 'greetings' coupled with their tickling whiskers upon your cheeks, as if to say, "my damn bowl is empty again you slouch, feed me Seymore."

Ahhhh.. yet another day - thank you Lord.

Me? I like all of the above, plus one. The sound of the morning newspaper hitting the sidewalk is orgasmic to me. Excitement, thankful for a new day - with an eye tuned to reading all about yesterday.

Tradition. (As an aside, I Youtubed the whole dadgum soundtrack to Fiddler on The Roof recently. Yum. Tradition. Sunrise, sunset. If I were a rich man.)

The newspaper is family tradition here. Pretty sure it ends with me, but that's ok. One grandfather had a stint at the KC Star, another poured over the Sport's section to see what he'd missed, or, mebbe to relive, the St. Louis Cardinals game from the day before. My mother was the first paid employee of a local startup newspaper (The Liberty Shopper News). I've thrown a newspaper or 10,000 from my bike, car. I've seen, and contributed to, piles and piles of paper, not so neatly stacked on the floor.

Buddy 'o mine, he wrote music reviews for the Star. Good, hella good writer he is. While he'd magically review the mega stars that rode in, out of the Sprint Center, other venues - he kept a keen eye/pen on the local music scene, serving as a springboard to many.

Times change. In fact, they got ridda The TImes (the morning paper). Awhile back, ALL employees were forced to take two weeks of unpaid leave to keep the newspaper afloat. A couple years ago, my buddy was let go, NOT due to incompetency (he's the best writer I personally know) - but, due to changing of the times. There's still one music reviewer there, but gone are the stories on the local scene, replaced by syndicated articles that really ain't of much interest to me. From 'yes!' to 'meh.'

Where was I? Oh yeah, fondly remembering. If it tweren't for the newspaper, howintheheck could one start the BBQ grill a goin? Oh yeah, they came up with charcoal presoaked in lighter fluid, nevermind.

How could you sell a ballglove.. buy a bike.. learn about Henrietta and Earl Smith going to visit Edgar and Mable Jones last Saturday night - without, the newspaper?

Well.. I reckon Craigslist. Swap and Shop. Then there's Facebook for the Smith & Jones visit. Ohhhh we know many who broadcast their every move. Like you Victor? Bite me, may the ink from the waning days of the newspaper rub off onto your hands, so you'll then wipe your brow, only to get yeeeooouuuuwwwwccchhh eye irritation.

It is said, getting your news from the internet allows one to be the captain, the director, the editor - seek what you want, not what they want for you. Well, I do that too with the newspaper. Shooting on 39th street? Nuh uh, I flip past. Female lawyers forced to remove underwire bra's at the Courthouse because they set-off the metal detectors? Ok, I might read that one!

Gone are the classifieds. Gone are the box scores where ya usedta see if that rookie kept his 22 game hitting streak alive. "Night game", meaning you hadta wait until the next day to find out who won. Nuh uh, no more. We be, I want what I want, and I want it now.

I get it. I don't like it, but I get it.

In the short time I've sat here to compile this goofy blog, I've closed 7 pop-ups, clicked 4 times "I know, I know I don't have any protection installed to ward off malware, have u seen my bank balance of late?"

By the old age vested in me, I (nicely, mildly) grumped on a website dedicated to the folks of our city, about the ensuing headaches of making our entrance road from KC into our little suburb 6 lanes each way insteada 3 lanes. As I see it, we'll go from 3 lanes of really PO'ed folks, to 6 lanes of mildly irritated chums. Dude wrote in, "If you don't grow, change, you die." I rectum.

I got an email this morning from the KC Star, 'bragging' up how, on March something or other, they will have a spiffed up Friday paper, and an even spiffier Sunday paper. Oh, and btw, we're no longer going to have a hardcopy issue for Saturday, but it will be online.

So.. future Saturdays, if I don't hear the sound of the paper hitting the sidewalk, how will I know to say thanks to God for another day? Reckon I'll have to get a hound...or a cat. Lord knows women never stick around too long.

Damn weather, bursitis, Government. Back to Fiddler on the Roof. If I were a rich man. I coulda been. You hear that? I coulda been. Turn 'o the Century (1900'ish) our ancestors were THE biggest producers of buggies. Then that damn Henry Ford had to go and mess it up.

Tradition. Sunrise, sunset.

The Times, er, the Star, er, the Internet, are'a changin'. Don't stand in the way of regress, er, I mean progress.

Much written love, Victurd

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