Mushrooms Banned

The Dutch devolve.

 



We here in Massachusetts smugly think we're so enlightened because we recently reduced the penalty for small amounts of marijuana to a hundred dollar fine, even though it actually didn't go far enough. But at least we're going in the right direction. The Dutch were once so hip to the stupidity of trying to control drugs by passing laws against them that even psychedelic mushrooms were legal. Or at least that was true until this month, when a ban promised in October took effect. According to the BBC:

The Dutch government is banning the sale of all magic mushrooms after a series of high-profile incidents involving tourists who had taken them.
The decision will take effect within several months, said a spokesman for the Dutch justice ministry.

A major Dutch producer of the psychedelic mushrooms said he stood to lose millions of euros as a result.

The Netherlands is famed for its liberal drugs policy, with marijuana openly sold in licensed cafes.

Magic mushrooms, more properly known as psilocybe, contain the psychedelic chemicals psilocybin and psilocin.

The ban is partly in result to some embarrassing incidents involving tourists who mixed the mushrooms with alcohol.

Calls for a re-evaluation of the drug grew after a 17-year-old French girl jumped from a building after eating magic mushrooms during a school trip to Amsterdam in March.

Other incidents involving the drug have included an Icelandic tourist jumping from a balcony and breaking both legs and a Danish tourist driving his car wildly through a camping ground, narrowly missing sleeping campers.

"It's a shame, the media really blew this up into a big issue," said Chloe Collette, owner of the FullMoon shop, which sells magic mushrooms in Amsterdam.

She said all the incidents had involved magic mushrooms in conjunction with other drugs.

A reader from the Netherlands took the following picture of some mushrooms he purchased in anticipation of the ban and now has stored in his refrigerator for future use.

Here's his review of the major brands.

These became illegal the next monday. A shame caused by freaked out cult members and stupid tourists.

The Hawaiians were very strong (i wasn't cheesing my balls off, though) and i forgot to stay hydrated. The Equadorians mostly fizzled due to taking them one day after the Colombians, and produced bad smelling gas. I'd stick to Colombians.

It's insane how horrible drugs like alcohol and nicotine remain freely available while much less harmful substances like magic mushrooms are outlawed.

Here is a card Springfield Police Chief Paula Meara once gave me. 

More queer Batman.

At Mystery Train Records in Amherst the other night a guy named Tony who calls himself Crystalline Roses put on a spacey show.

My StoryCorps Interview

 
Hey guess what! I was one of the lucky people from our area to be invited to tell my life story to the national radio show Storycorps on NPR. While only excerpts from each interview are chosen for broadcast, the entire interview will be preserved in the Library of Congress in Washington D.C. until the end of time! Is that cool or what? 

From their website:

StoryCorps is an independent nonprofit project whose mission is to honor and celebrate one another’s lives through listening.

By recording the stories of our lives with the people we care about, we experience our history, hopes, and humanity. Since 2003, tens of thousands of everyday people have interviewed family and friends through StoryCorps. Each conversation is recorded on a free CD to take home and share, and is archived for generations to come at the Library of Congress. Millions listen to our award-winning broadcasts on public radio and the Internet. StoryCorps is one of the largest oral history projects of its kind, creating a growing portrait of who we really are as Americans.

I've done a lot of radio over the years locally, but this was the first time that I was ever a guest on a program that is on the air in all 50 states! During their stay here in our Valley Storycorps set up their headquarters in Amherst's Jones library.

They were located on the third floor, as indicated by this sign attached to a sign.

There they had constructed a make-shift studio amidst the library's antiques that was actually quite cozy.

Anna Walters of National Public Radio gave us some release forms to sign allowing NPR to use the recording of our conversation on their program. 

The interview took the form of a conversation between myself and Hwei-Ling Greeney, the famous Amherst activist. Here we are just before it started.

What did I say? Well, I started at the beginning, about how I was born at home and delivered by my Dad in my parent's bedroom. I skipped over my childhood, but talked a lot about the early years of the Valley zine movement and the evolution of this blog. I also talked about drugs and how far I fell and how with the help of so many good people and the grace of God I got back on my feet again. In other words I just talked about my life. Everybody has a life story to tell, and I tried to tell mine the best I could, because I knew it would end up in the Library of Congress and be heard by generations to come.



As Hwei-Ling and I left they said they would contact us about when they might air the excerpts, so I'll let you know.

In Northampton my neighbors have these weird sculptures on their porch, like this white man.

There is also this nude woman squatting on a psychedelic table. 

An interesting ceiling painting in a smoker's section. 

This Northampton car dealer is trying to cash in on the Obama craze.

"If we believe absurdities, we shall commit atrocities." [Voltaire]

Post Turkey

Now On to Xmas!

Hey, hope you all had a nice holiday! The day before Thanksgiving the Amherst Survival Center put on a free holiday meal for the entire community at the Lutheran Church just down the road from UMass. 

Lots of folks from the community volunteer for that event, leaving regular volunteers like myself the freedom to do what we never get the chance to do - just show up, sit down and eat. My friend Damon Reeves entertained everyone on piano while we ate. 

Mary Carey of the Hampshire Gazette/Amherst Bulletin was there in her professional role of reporter. She took my photo....

And I took hers:

So now it's on to the next big holiday! Sure enough, by the library I ran into long time campus activist Ed Cutting, who was enroute to begin setting up the UMass Christmas tree.

 



Recently I've been going through some old photographs and I thought I'd show you a few. This is my family on Thanksgiving on Hood Street in ol' Pine Point in 1948. My father is the person on the far right. 

This is Wally's Fruits and Vegetables on Boston Road in Pine Point in 1954. Dig the five cent Cokes and Dreikorn's Bread sign!

My Uncle Wally was the proprietor, until he sold the business to a local vendor named Angelo, who developed it into one of Springfield's most popular fruit and vegetables stores. Today Angelo's is out of business and the building is vacant.

Here are my sisters outside the World Famous Thomas M. Balliet Elementary School in 1968. 

This is me at age 13 with my grandmother at the former Riverside Park (now Six Flags). I remember the day, dig that haircut and Star Trek shirt!

Like most observers, I was not surprised by the conviction of Jason Strickland in the child abuse trial regarding Holly Poutre, the poor child who was abused into a permanently brain damaged state. The evidence against him seemed overwhelming, although most of the abuse appears to have been carried out by his late wife.

I was sickened by some of the details of the case and the sheer evil of of the acts. For example Holly loved to dance, so they hit her on the knees with a hammer. The terrible cruelty of that fills me with hatred. I can forgive a lot in the way of human failings, but child abuse of any kind I have zero tolerance for. That is the lowest of the low, and I hope Jason Strickland gets the harshest possible sentence.

I am not a death penalty supporter, but I can't help but wish that Jason Strickland could somehow meet the same fate as his wife, who was shot in the head by her own mother (who then shot and killed herself) thereby thankfully imposing on her monster of a daughter the just punishment the courts could not.

Bill Dusty made this interesting video about Monday's panhandling rally in downtown Northampton. 

Older

Again.

Today is my birthday.

That's pretty cool. A year ago I was an addict and dying.

Today I am more alive than ever. God is merciful, few people who go down as far as I did ever comes back up. When I did I first opened my eyes and then I opened my hands and saw that a shiny white pearl was in each palm.

This weekend some friends took me out to a pre-birthday dinner at Amherst Chinese. Beforehand I played tourist guide by bringing them to Emily Dickinson's grave in downtown Amherst. They took my picture but wouldn't let me take theirs.

I asked why they didn't want their picture taken and they said they didn't want to appear on this blog. They said they wanted to preserve their privacy.

Privacy? What's that?

There were many offerings left on Dickinson's grave, including a harmonica. We left a burning candle.

 



The candle burned into the night, where it may have served as a beacon to lost spirits who perhaps might gather at Miss Emily's grave for a poetry slam.

Outside Amherst Chinese was this sticker. 

It reads "Religions are our attempt to give form to the divine because we suck at contemplating raw infinity."

If I catch myself thinking about aging I try to remember what the wise Pine Pine philosopher Miss Mean Mary Jean once said, "Whenever I find myself worrying about getting older, I remind myself of those I have known who were denied the privilege."

How old am I?

Old enough to know better but still too young to care.

Marijuana Nostalgia

 



In honor of the announcement today that stoner comedy duo Cheech and Chong are going to reunite let's talk about dope. I don't get high anymore, but I sure as hell used to, and I'll always take an interest in whatever's going down on the high side. As Ken Kesey used to say near the end of his life whenever someone asked him whether he was still a Merry Prankster, "Nobody quits dah mob alive!"

The use of drugs for recreational or mind-expanding or otherwise non-medical purposes is not without risk. But how dangerous is it, and which drugs are the most risky? A new study by the The Academy of Medical Sciences starts from scratch in evaluating the relative harm of various commonly used drugs, and did not exclude alcohol and tobacco.

The new system was based on the first scientific assessment of 20 legal and illegal stimulants used in contemporary Britain.

Alcohol was rated the fifth most harmful drug, ahead of some current class A drugs, while tobacco was listed as ninth. Cannabis, currently rated a class C drug, was below both those legal stimulants at 11th.

The MPs said including alcohol and tobacco in the classification would give the public "a better sense of the relative harms involved".



What is interesting is that marijuana, LSD and Ecstasy rate lower on the danger scale than alcohol and tobacco. Personally I think that the only reason alcohol and tobacco are legal is cultural, we have traditionally used them in the past. However, if we were starting from the beginning in devising which drugs would best be made legal for recreational use the way alcohol and tobacco are today, I believe we would dismiss legalizing alcohol and tobacco out of hand as being too dangerous. Logic would dictate that the drugs that should be legal are marijuana and the psychedelics, and when we are a wiser society than we are today, those are the drugs we will make available.

Roman is a student who works with us at the Amherst Survival Center. Today was his last day before leaving to spend the rest of the summer traveling.

Sheesh, the kids these days live a lot better than I did when I was their age! However they do not have the righteous herbs at the reasonable prices my generation did.

I used to have this dealer who lived in the neighborhood behind Duggan Jr. High School in Springfield. He was a biker about ten years older than me with a beautiful blond wife and the finest sticky icky primo kush in the Acres. Let's say his name may or may not have been Leon.

One day when I was around 19 years old I walked over Leon's unannounced to pick up some weed. That was fairly common for me to do and it was a night when I knew Leon was usually home. However, when I got there and rang the front door no one answered. Yet there were lights on in the house and I could hear a TV. Then I recognized a splashing sound coming from the backyard.

Leon had a beautiful swimming pool in his backyard with a nice big deck. No doubt his dope dealing had helped pay for it. Walking around the back of the house I saw Leon's wife swimming in the pool. She was totally nude.

I tried to sneak away without being seen but she spotted me and cried out a friendly and hearty greeting. "Hey Tommy, where ya goin'? C'mere!" She laughed when she saw how awkward I was about the circumstances. "Whatsa matta, Tommy? Ya never seen a naked lady before?" She was laughing at me thinking I was some shy virginal kid, unaware that ever since I was fourteen or so I'd been one of the best fucked kids in Pine Point, only it wasn't with girls.

I went over to the edge of the pool, where she was frolicking bareass with no inhibitions, putting on a bit of a show for me. If I'd been straight, I would've been thanking Jesus and all the saints. As it was, I just told her I was hoping Leon was home so I could score some weed.

At the sound of Leon's name she frowned. On some occasions when I had come over I had witnessed them sniping and even yelling at each other. Most often she accused him of being a no-good drunken stoner and he in turn would accuse her of being a no-good cheatin' tramp. One time when Leon wasn't there his wife had sold me some weed and we had talked a bit and she said that she would leave Leon but for the money he made between dealing and working at a motorcycle shop on Bay Street. Me, I tried to stay completely out of their marriage troubles, since I wanted nothing to go down that would interfere with my access to their magnificent marijuana.

"Leon's still at the shop," his wife explained, "I'll get you some herb but hold on will you? I mean what's the rush? Why don't you get undressed and take a little dip?" I might be queer but it was hot and the water looked inviting and hanging out with Leon's wife was always fun. So I climbed up on the deck, got nude, and dove into the water. 

The wife stopped her little aquatic nudie show once I was in the pool with her, and we just sort of horsed around like kids. There was a beach ball in the pool, and I kept chasing her and bombarding her in the head with it, as she squealed with laughter trying to get away. It was as innocent as two children at play. But who knows what would have happened if our nude water romp had continued much longer. Neither Leon nor his wife knew I was gay, so perhaps she might have made some type of move on me at some point, us being together naked and all. Ya just never know. But our play came to a dead stop at the sound of a stern voice.

"What's the fuck is going on here?" Only it wasn't asked in the tone of a question, but in the tone of one who is very certain of what is going on, and is very, very angry. There on the deck stood a man with a goatee, shirtless but for a leather vest. It was Leon, and he was standing with his legs spread and his hands at his side. In one of those hands was a gun.

I was paralyzed with anxiety. I was not reassured when Leon's wife broke the terribly tense silence by speaking with a tremble of real fear in her voice. "Leon, honey," she said, genuinely pleading. "Baby, it's not what you think!" Thus far Leon had ignored me, never even looking in my direction. Instead he slowly raised the gun to point in the direction of his wife. "NO!NO!NO!" she screamed, in a tone I had never heard before outside of a horror movie.

Then for the first time Leon looked directly at me, his eyes burning into mine.Then Leon winked at me and started laughing. He laughed and laughed. Nervously his wife softly giggled. So did I only louder. Then we all laughed, louder and louder. Leon was fooling. Leon was just playing with us. Leon got undressed and jumped in the pool. Later his wife got out and cooked steaks for us, standing naked by the grill. We sat around the picnic table nude, eating and drinking and smoking the righteous weed, as if two of the three of us there hadn't seriously believed, at least for a moment, that this would be our last night on Earth. 

I remember the various kinds of marijuana I used to buy in the old days from Leon and others. These are the types of herb that were most common in the Springfield area in the 1970's and early 80's.

Colombian - The standard high quality weed. Whether it actually came all the way from Columbia or not I have no idea. Probably, because that's where all the coke was coming from. I kid you not, I remember paying Leon thirty dollars for an ounce bag of Colombian buds.

Mexican - Sometimes called ragweed, no one wanted to buy standard Mexican weed, which was harsh and had only a mild buzz. Still, I found myself buying it when nothing else was available. In the words of those wise philosophers, The Furry Freak Brothers, "Dope will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of no dope."

Jamaican - A step above Mexican, but of unreliable quality. When it was good it was very good, but you could also get burned.

Michoacan - Sometimes called "lambs breath" because it was supposedly as gentle on the lungs as the breath of a baby lamb. I thought it was overrated, and have you ever actually smelled a lambs breath? Neither have I, but I'll bet its nothing too pleasant.

Thai Stick - Did it really come from Thailand? Who knows, but it sure was powerful and tasty, coming wrapped around a thin reed. You had to be careful, there was some versions that were Mexican ragweed dipped in the animal tranquilizer PCP.

Opium Hash - Sent overseas at regular intervals in a standard letter envelope by a military friend while he was stationed in Germany. He wanted me to hold it for him until he came home on leave, but it was so good more than half of what he sent me was gone by the time he arrived. A beautiful, dreamy high.

Panama Red - It was rusty rather than red, but it sure did kick ass.

Lebanese Hash - It was everywhere for a long time, then vanished almost entirely. Very tasty and very effective. I once had a big block of it with that squiggly Arabic writing pressed into it. It's a miracle I didn't ruin my lungs before the block ran out. Hash resin is thick.

Mauwi Wowee - Allegedly from Hawaii, it was so stupefying you forgot to laugh at the silly name.

So those are the main brands I can remember smoking. Have I missed any you used to smoke?

Happy Memorial Day!

Hope you had fun!

I managed to get an exclusive photo of the new trucks the Sarno Administration has purchased for the Springfield waste disposal program.

 



Are you planning to go to Burning Man this year? If not, this video may help remind you of why you might.



Coming tomorrow - pictures of the Amherst parade!

Drug Books

A couple short reviews.

My friend Chris recently lent me a couple of addiction memoirs to read. You would think I would have had my fill of such testimonials, having heard hundreds if not thousands of them at Alcoholics and Narcotics Anonymous. Yet everybody's trip down the rabbit hole is a bit unique from anybody else's and I find there's always an angle in everybody's story from which I can learn.

The granddaddy of these stoneylogs is the classic by David Crosby Long Time Gone. I read that book years ago and liked it even though I was hardly sober myself at the time.

 

For better or worse, Crosby's bestseller unleashed a deluge of such memoirs, many of which were far less interesting or insightful. Just because you've been to hell and back on drugs doesn't necessarily mean you returned with any real wisdom. Frankly, sometimes you just can't remember enough to learn anything.

I suspect that's the case with rocker Nikki Sixx of the aptly named but oddly spelled Motley Crue.

I was never much of a fan of the Crue. To me their music sounds too similar, like variations on the same song. However, they have always been at least mildly amusing as a cartoon of rockstar excess, and the scandal sheet antics of Crue drummer Tommy Lee and his ex-wife Pamela Lee had some entertainment value.

But as for guitarist Sixx, he apparently spent an awful lot of the money the legions of teenage boys spent on Motley Crue records to do little more than get very high all the time. Eventually it all caught up with him, as drugs are wont to do, but he managed to stop before his money and career were completely lost.

Unfortunately, Sixx doesn't offer much in the way of useful insights into his experiences. Basically the book is just a series of stories, told mostly by Sixx but sometimes by others, about the outrageous things that occurred during the years when Sixx was too stoned to be of much use to himself or anyone else. The book would be much shorter than it is if not for all the artwork and photos. In fact, strip the book of its graphics and there really isn't much more to the book than a string of overblown journal entries and interview quotes. Because of the band's notorious reputation, most of the stories here have been recounted before and told better. However, I guess if you are a hardcore Crue fan or just like unusual graphics then you might find Sixx's book worth owning. Personally I'm glad I borrowed the book rather than bought it.

A much better memoir is Scar Tissue by Anthony Kiedis of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Kiedis is in some ways as clueless as Sixx about the consequences of his drug abuse, but Kiedis has a very likable personality that comes through the pages despite the stupidity and self-centeredness that all but oozes off the pages. But of course you would expect nothing less from one of the lovable knuckleheads from the Chili Peppers, a band that first drew attention to itself by performing in nothing but socks over their privates, if they performed wearing anything at all.



It was a cute and sexy gimmick but an unnecessary one, as the band is much more talented and their lyrics more sophisticated than their goofy image would suggest. This book reveals Kiedis as both sensible and aware of his past despite years of heavy drug use. Today he is apparently sincere in his determination to stay sober after having given up drugs four years ago.

While the Sixx book is dark and decadent, Kiedis remains mostly positive and upbeat despite long battles with crippling addictions. Kiedis and his bandmates managed to somehow to laugh their way through good times and bad, successfully coming out of it all miraculously healthy and sane. There's a solid but not preachy anti-drug message throughout the book, and if I were a parent I would be pleased to catch my kids reading it. The book might encourage them to get naked, but they will also be warned away from getting stoned.

This is the first year that Kendrick Park in Amherst is free of all of the houses that once occupied the land.



In November the last house on the property was moved elsewhere in town, as shown in this Mary Carey photo.

 



Why were all the houses removed or torn down? George Kendrick was a wealthy Amherst banker who when he died in 1930 left money in his will to slowly acquire all of the property now comprising the park and to tear down the houses in order to eventually create a public space. Interestingly, Kendrick himself didn't even live in the neighborhood. So why did he do such a thing? According to the website InAmherst:

One might assume that Kendrick’s Trust began with his own property and then bought up all his neighbors, but that is not the case. The Kendrick family never lived on the land in question. George and his wife Matilda lived on the east side of downtown at the corner of what are now Seelye and Spring Streets. His parents and his sister Jenny lived on Northampton Road, an area later to become Kendrick Place. So what was Kendrick’s interest in this property?

George Kendrick was a banker, and several of his fellow bankers and colleagues lived on this land. It is said that he and they were most disturbed by a very visible and poorly-maintained tenement at the southern tip of the property, and believed it reflected badly on the town. Before he died, he drew up the Trust that would acquire this and the other parcels, as well as provide for the needs of his sister Jenny. His intentions for the Trust were conveyed only verbally to his chosen trustees.

“As properties came on the market, the Trust was to buy them secretly, hold them a while and then demolish the houses,” said Tucker, explaining that Kendrick was concerned that if his intentions were known, it would drive up the prices of the properties. It wasn’t until 1964, with the previously-mentioned combination of George and Jenny’s trusts, that his original verbal instructions were formalized and put into writing.

But why take down all the houses in addition to the objectionable one? Sounds like the banker Kendrick went a little batty from counting all his money. The last house was moved to a new location in town last Fall. Now that winter is over, little remains to indicate the existence of the former residence. Here the tar of the former driveway can be seen against this tree.

Some perennials planted by past owners have come up, but the house they decorated is no longer there. 

The new park is already being used. During the winter attendance at a skating rink the town created on the site surpassed expectations. The other day I caught these students having a pizza picnic.

So at last the wishes of the eccentric banker George Kendrick to create a park have finally come true, although it took nearly eighty years to complete it.

This is the last week of classes at UMass, with finals to follow next week. Yikes, where did the semester go? Registration is already underway for summer classes, as shown by this poster plastered all over the campus for what looks like might be an interesting course.

Two Historic Pics

Of old Hamp.

 

Historian Robert Young recently sent me an email with a couple of his classic photos of the Northampton of yore.

Hi Tom,

I've sent two more circa 1900 Northampton photographs that I thought might be of interest. The first shows upper Main Street with the Northampton Center for the Arts and the Academy of Music on the right, while to the left across the street is the 19th century incarnation of the Edward's Church (demolished and replaced by the current A-frame structure in the 1950s).

 



The second image is a nice bird's-eye shot of the Smith College campus which, judging by the visible flowering trees and bushes, was probably taken in the spring.

 



Wishing you well...

Bob

 

Grace Slick once said that she wrote the following song to atone for White Rabbit. 

Some people say
"Don't go away just stay right here"
Some say
"If you stay at home you're gonna wind up alone"
Now you know you can't go two different ways
you can't believe everything you hear
And if you always do just what you're told
then you've got no mind of your own

So if each man has a different plan
let 'em go let 'em go
You have a power all your own
There's a spirit child inside you
ready for life and I know
It's just waiting to see how you will grow
And when the spirit feels the need to wander let it go

Sometimes they say the only way is to really sing that song
Sometimes they say you're singing that way too loud and too long
And if they can't make up their minds
then I think I'll make up mine
Whatever way I feel is the only way I'm gonna sing that song

And if people don't seem to like it that's O.K. let 'em go
Some day they'll sing a song of their own
'Cause there's a spirit child inside them ready for life and I know
It's just waiting to see how they will grow

And when their spirit feels a need to wander I'm sure they'll go

Some people said
"Try this, it'll make you smile"
Some said
"Don't touch it, you'll end up crying"
Well it felt so good for a while
but then I saw too many dying
When all they wanted to do
was get a little higher

So if the game won't follow through
let it go let it go
And leave the loaded dice alone
'Cause there's a spirit child inside you
ready for life and I know
It's just waiting to see if you will grow

One too many
users lose it all
When there's no one-
no one to help them break the fall
People just like you who say
"Oh no that won't be me"
They end up face down-
is that where you wanted to be?

So if it's going to bring you trouble
let it go let it go
Remember that doesn't mean you'll be all alone
'Cause there's a spirit child inside you ready for life and I know

It's just waiting
to see
how you will grow.

Augies Burns

A serious blow to the poor.

 



An apartment block in Northampton at 11 Bridge Street, universally known as "Augies" because of the landlord, August A. Woicekoski, burned last night, injuring four and leaving all the residents homeless. It had a reputation as a flophouse inhabited by lots of boozers, crackheads and junkies. Initially rumors swept Hamp that the fire was caused by the careless use of a crack pipe. However, later news accounts say it was a cigarette. Whatever. 

The important thing is that this represents a serious loss of affordable housing in Northampton. Like Amherst before it, downtown Northampton is becoming a place where only the rich and students in dorms can live. And (ahem) people in half-way houses.

Near the fire scene, I came upon this bizarre message taped to a mailbox. 

It is a drawing of a phone and on the screen this is what it says:

Text Message:

I wanted to do
this face to
face, but know
you know.
I don't want
you to work
here anymore.
If you want to
talk about it
we can but my
decision is final.

Apparently someone got fired in a rather impersonal manner. Apparently that person is getting their revenge by making the means of their firing very public. 

In Amherst this weekend there was a big Frisbee tournament. Sadly, the weather sucked.

Also in Amherst I came across this poster for the Worldwide Rally to Legalize Marijuana which was to be held in cities around the world this weekend. 

If any such rally occurred in Amherst itself, I didn't hear about it.

The trees are blooming nicely along what used to be the infamous UMass Frat Row. 

WASHINGTON—A recent glut of feature stories on the death of the American newspaper has temporarily made the outmoded form of media appealing enough to stave off its inevitable demise for an additional 21 days, sources reported Monday. "People really seem to identify with these moving, 'end-of-an-era'-type pieces," Washington Post editor-in-chief Leonard Downie, Jr. said. "It's nice to see that the printed word is still, at least for now, the most powerful medium for reporting on the death of the printed word." Downie added that the poignant farewell Op-Ed he recently penned was so well received that he will be able to hold onto his job for up to six more days.
-The Onion