The Globe Is Dead. Long Live The Lion. Rah Rah Rah.

Another misleading Lion headline, you say?

The Lion says ‘Ha!’

As of this morning the Boston Globe still lives and negotiates with its cruel and greedy masters in the far-off Babylon of New York City. The issue of the Globe’s survival is still not settled.

But The Globe is indeed dead in The Lion’s world. For nearly two years The Lion has snarked and raged and growled and clawed here, thanks to his fortunate possession of a fresh Boston Globe every morning, acquired from Starbucks across the parking lot out back.

A cup of coffee (homemade, from beans, with spring water, with cream, no sugar) and a crinkling, rustling Boston Globe have been integral to the stunningly intelligent and sparkling well-written raging opinions at Grumpy Lion.

Alas, that is to be no more. The Globe has priced itself out of The Lion’s skimpily-filled pockets. There will be no more morning cruises through the inky pages, no more coffee stains deliberately smeared onto Jeff Jacoby’s columns, no more crossword struggles.

And why have the evil masters of the Globe done this cruel deed? The Lion recalls reading one of their highly trained businesspeople claiming that they raised the price for those of us living outside the city in order to reduce readership because it cost them too much to supply us provincials with newspapers. Yes, harumph, harumph, we’re losing money so we have make sure we have fewer readers.

That sort of thing makes The Lion glad he did not go to business school, which, of course, he never planned to do anyway. In fact The Lion’s original plan for life, after giving up on becoming a scientist because he got a job in high school writing for the Cape’s daily newspaper, the Cape Cod Standard Times, was to become a foreign correspondent for the New York Times, ironically today’s villain.

Obviously the correspondent thing didn’t work out, but those few years with the Times (Cape Cod, not New York) marked The Lion’s furry little soul with the smell of newsprint, identifying him indelibly as a newspaperman, and an ex-newspaperman. Even today, in his dotage, perhaps because of his dotage, The Lion gets misty and a little teary at the sight and sound of those great newspaper presses changing newsprint from blank paper into a daily encyclopedia of the world. The rumble of the presses still shakes The Lion’s soul.

But there is a point beyond which even an aging Lion will not go, and $1.50 a day for a newspaper and $4.00 for Sunday marks that point. After all, The Lion still has his dignity and his computer and his monthly bill for internet service connecting to the newspapers of the world.

But it’s just not the same. Not even close. A cup of coffee and a laptop in the early morning hours just doesn’t cut it.

Long live… ah, to hell with it.

-30-

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9 Responses

  1. It’s hard to take a complaint of a paper being overpriced when you’re simultaneously admitting to paying Starbucks prices every day.

    Like

    • I only get Starbucks coffee about twice a month. The rest of the time I
      brew my own, as noted.

      Like

  2. So your support of the printed word stops at a buck fifty? Gutenberg would not be happy.

    We old farts who like the (now imagined) smell of newsprint are like the Amish of the info world. So if we insist on holding onto our antiquated method of getting news, by foldable horse-and-buggy, we must be willing to pay for it. Cough it up, Buster.

    Like

    • For that much money I can buy a good book every week. My income doesn’t
      (can’t) go up, so the paper has to go. But I’ve saved an old copy to
      sniff and play with when I feel sentimental.

      Like

  3. As a wee lad, I had my sites set on either being an astronomer or a beach comber. When I got older, I thought I was bound for the news business. Personal mistakes and poor judgment interceded. But we always get what we want, do we not? I’m a beach-comber on the shores of the internet, picking up lost articles about science and writing for the internationally known and respected Evolutionary Middleman. We’re fucked, bro.

    -30- back atcha

    Like

    • Life without mistakes and poor judgement would be awfully boring. We’d
      never learn anything.

      Astronomy and beach combing have their similarities, no?

      Like

  4. So the Globe is trying to make more money by reducing their readership? Have they been sniffing the Laffer (curve) gas?

    Like

    • Apparently there’s a lot of Laffer gas still out there in the
      econosphere and the politicosphere.

      Like

  5. We old farts who like the (now imagined) smell of newsprint are like the Amish of the info world.

    I don’t mind the smell, but I hate the ink all over my fingers.

    Like

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