Last week, the Eugene Weekly was "Pregnant with Possibility." This week: laying off five of its media darlings, among them, my writer buddy Charles Quincey Adams.
With a recession-proof spirit defying paystub-less blues, Chuck's glib: off to fence, travel, and climb. But for a budget-strained weekly, the future looks grimmer.
Weeklies are newspapers' hipper foils; blogs' papery counterparts. Good for tearing apart mass media conventions, excellent for grassroots and local business advertising, perfect for blending art and sass, and even better for papier mache. And now: disintegrating faster than they do in a dirty gutter, fueled by a Eugenian drizzle.
We gave up gasoline. We've given up our foreclosed homes. Now...we're slowly bidding farewell to the paper-thin fabric that binds an artistic community. That, and an excellent commode companion.
"Love your local newspapers this year," warns Chuck. "In a year, they will all be gone."
Also, all in favor of the new moniker of Apocassession - say aye. Courtesy of CQA.
2 comments:
Apocacession is the correct spelling, Kira dear. And you are a dear.
Well, my prediction is slighly off. The Apocacession has been slower to materialize. Heck, I'm still writing for that damn rag Eugene Weekly on occasion. Haha. Be well, Kira. See you foreshortly.
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