Who Needs Newspapers?

 I love to read. I'll read anywhere: on the sofa, in a grocery checkout line, while I'm eating, in bed, when I wake up, in the backyard. And I'll read almost anything: novels, biographies, history, philosophy, religion; hardcover, softcover, magazines, comic books, flyers, cereal boxes, and matchbook covers. The printed word grabs my collar and draws me near. I long to hold it in my hands, admire its typography, evaluate its heft, smell the ink, caress the binding. Placed on a bookshelf, I admire the look of a book’s spine, and the way the title suggests other works that are cyberlinked in my mind. On a coffee table, a magazine beckons me with that one last undiscovered bit of it that I haven’t read. Brochures call out to me from racks in retail stores, and decade old magazines in doctor’s offices are undiscovered treasures. The printed word is my siren song, the seductress drawing me like an ancient Greek sailor, soon to be shipwrecked among the aisles of used bookstores.

All this is true, though sadly one temptress of type no longer holds my fascination. Newspapers, the great purveyor of everything that happened North, East, West and South, no longer fills my birdcage. I say this with great regret, because it's long been part of my daily routine to enjoy the morning newspaper over a steaming cup of coffee. Sunday brunch always seemed better when served alongside the A & E or Book sections. And no Bloody Mary ever tasted better than the ones mixed with the New York Times Book Review.

But now I've come to the conclusion that whatever purpose the great dailies served in the past, they no longer serve, that they've been replaced by a vast number of diverse services, delivered in formats best suited to the end user’s needs. Where newspapers once told me what   happened, when   it happened, who   it happened to, and where   it happened, they now concentrate on what might   happen, or why   it happened, and what they think   it means. In short, the opinions of the reporter or editor are now presented as the news, cutting short the process that formerly took place in my mind, as I digested and reasoned with the news.

In the past, newspapers provided information for its readers to evaluate, information which educated, made us (hopefully) better citizens and informed, responsible members of society. Perhaps it was a myopic view, but after reading for example, a story about a natural catastrophe, we knew the facts of what happened, formed our opinions, and often took action. Now those types of stories are peppered with criticisms of weather forecasters, government agencies, recommendations on preparation for future disasters, and the expected effect on the economy, and several tug-at-the-heart-strings stories of victims. Most of what is presented are suppositions, with a brief sprinkling of only those facts that support the conclusion of the reporter. Reporters now seek greater “meaning” in stories, to tell a story of an injustice committed and inspire its readers to create a greater social justice – a utopia that exist in the mind of the messenger.

With rare exception, the front page of a typical daily newspaper looks like the bastard child of People magazine and The Daily Worker. On any given day, there will be a human interest touchy-feely story, profiling someone toiling in the ranks for the oppressed or endangered (fill in the name of your favorite) species; a story based on a study by a group which benefits from the study; a news story (but probably not the most important story of the day); and an opinion piece masquerading as a news story.

Forgive me, but this isn't news. I'd like my news stories to tell me what happened, and when, and where. I don't want studies on the ill effects of grilling my hamburger medium rare. Leave the lectures on my health to my doctor, please. And don't tell me that I should be working in the rain forest to save a frog, like your hero of the day, surviving solely on the largesse of numerous grants paid for by taxpayers, or on grants of corporations. Some of have real jobs and families to support.

Do I sound bitter? I am. I miss the five or six newspapers in a big city that each offered their look at the news, competing for my attention with stories written by men and women who saw the events they wrote about. I’m tired of being preached to, of reading the identical story in every daily across the country, of having snippets of news spoon fed to me, snippets that support an agenda. I'm tired of reading half the story. So, now I won't read any of the story. I'll build my own newspaper from the internet, reading different reports of the same stories, from several sources, and draw my own conclusions.

You know what I'll miss most? The sports. It's the last holdout of what the newspapers used to do so well: tell the story. At least with a story about a baseball game, there's an objective truth: the score at the end of the ninth inning.