Years ago I somehow found myself on the receiving end of the Sunday New York Times. Maybe it was thanks to airline points, I dunno, but every Sunday that monster paper showed up on my doorstep- and I eagerly devoured it. Yes, there was some annoying, sometimes laughable, bias to comb through.. but I’m a big girl who raised four kids so I have plenty of experience neutralizing BS. In all fairness, the paper was full of brilliant writing as well. Eventually my points ran out and I couldn’t get myself to pay $6 for one day’s paper no matter how thick it was.
So I was pretty psyched when my husband knocked on our hotel room door yesterday morning with both a cup of hot coffee and the Sunday edition of the New York Times. “Yippee!” I thought as I headed out to our tenth floor balcony over looking the water, “this will be a treat!”
Wrong.
Dear NYT Editor,
I have PTSD from leafing through your Sunday paper while on vacation last week. Your front page should include a warning for those with depression or weak hearts and instructions on recycling the magazine into a paper hat to protect one’s head as clearly the sky is falling.. (see front-page story about keeping your money under the mattress.) You know it’s bad when reading the obituaries provides relief from the deluge of darkness. May I suggest trying to balance out the bleakness with a little more “color” on the week-end? And no, you don’t get points for Christmas red if it’s on a prison uniform (see above) or in the dreary, full paged ad from the Freedom From Religion Foundation featuring the bill of rights in a manger (see below)…sheesh!
Happy-ish Holidays to you all.. and lighten up!
Cindy
