There’s no place like home

Okay, fine . . . I get it. We’re in a recession. Businesses are plummeting to eternal doom, and the word ‘profit’ is a sick concept, hardly recognizable in today’s cross-cultural, globally consumed demise.

The newspaper companies have been complaining about these conditions for months, if not years now. And I read articles focusing on the steep decline in newspaper and magazine purchases and wonder how this apparent ‘news’ is remotely shocking. Why don’t people buy the news anymore? Because a person can only read the same article about a sucky economy so many times. Writers need to stop dwelling on the negatives if they’re seeking to boost revenue. Why don’t they fabricate, bedazzle, exaggerate, something interesting for once? I mean really, what has happened to the ancient art of writing journalism stories without a fragment of credibility?

During the Great Depression, directors weren’t sitting on their bums, conjuring up feel-bad tear-jerkers. They were sugarcoating, fantastically embellishing and mind-blowingly brewing up worlds beyond the dark reality. That’s right folks, ‘The Wizard of Oz’ was a stroke of brilliance formulated in the span of one of the dreariest economic downward spirals of our time.

And please, who do these writers, who reflect on the depleting revenue of the newspaper industry really think they’re appealing to anyways? Correct me if I’m wrong, but if I buy a magazine and read an article preaching against people who no longer buy magazines, am I really the intended targeted audience? Work with me here.

But, regardless of these seemingly failing tactics to reinforce printed news production, we should think about the bigger picture. Do we even need newspapers, magazines and all that jazz? I, for one, find the prospect of being left out of the loop through these financially straining times somewhat comforting. Why face your fears when you can deface them?! I mean, yes, there is something potentially comforting too with the recognition of the troubled times affecting individuals on a global scale, but that won’t put money in the piggy bank.

And so, I say, save those extra bucks, don’t buy that magazine and just imagine what could be written about. Heck, that’d be loads more entertaining than the mumbo jumbo we’re getting now, and for a fraction of the price!

I’ll even up you my two cents. Grab those saved bucks, buy yourself a movie ticket and turn those old news stories to firewood. Because regardless of the scoop du jour they’re serving – telling you the world is over, sell your house, sell your car, sell your soul . . . I’m not buying it.

No really, I’m not buying it.

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