Since I just can't seem to find a name for my newest follower, number one seventy eight, I must ask for help.
If you've hit my blue button in the last twenty four hours, please, leave a comment for me with your name, and if you have one, your blog link. This will allow me to properly thank you.
I'm funny that way.
Thanks.
Stephen
Autumn
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Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Our Newspapers
Are fast disappearing. I find this disturbing news, sad. My daily paper had a short story in the money section with the news the old Times-Picayune has laid off two hundred workers. The paper will only publish three times a week. What a shame.
My morning routine as always consisted of a good cup of coffee and a print edition of our local paper. To read the paper on-line just isn't the same. I like the feel of paper, the sweet smell of ink. Though our paper is as thin as a human hair I still enjoy news I can set aside and return to after a few minutes out on the floor of the shop. I even take the comics home to my wife.
I guess it bugs me because its another piece of our history and childhood slowly fading into the mist of time. Newspapers have been a part of my life. It wasn't all that long ago I read three different papers a day, then Sweet Wife put her foot down and said enough, cost, you know. I still sneak a Wall Street Journal home time to time.
I feel sorry for New Orleans.
Stephen
My morning routine as always consisted of a good cup of coffee and a print edition of our local paper. To read the paper on-line just isn't the same. I like the feel of paper, the sweet smell of ink. Though our paper is as thin as a human hair I still enjoy news I can set aside and return to after a few minutes out on the floor of the shop. I even take the comics home to my wife.
I guess it bugs me because its another piece of our history and childhood slowly fading into the mist of time. Newspapers have been a part of my life. It wasn't all that long ago I read three different papers a day, then Sweet Wife put her foot down and said enough, cost, you know. I still sneak a Wall Street Journal home time to time.
I feel sorry for New Orleans.
Stephen
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