I postpone reading the newspaper till evening because it’s not a good idea to drink wine with breakfast. My “local” paper, which underserves all of San Francisco, the East Bay, and the Peninsula down to and including Silicon Valley, is the East Bay Times. The Times is a glass-half-empty kind of paper. The irony of my continuing to subscribe to it is that it’s made me a glass-full kind of gal. I’m now up to 8 ounces of Chardonnay on many nights.
The other day I could not help myself. The article begged for a response. First paragraph: three grammatical errors, two punctuation errors, and one misspelled word—which, as frequently as East Bay Times discusses the apocalypse, you’d think they could get right. Feeling generous, I emailed the author $25 worth of editing for which I charged not one cent. To which I received no reply.
If ever there was a publisher that embraces fear and its sales potential, it’s the Bay Area News Group (parent company of the East Bay Times), which refers to itself as BANG. I have more input for them: why don’t they just name the paper BANG BANG?
Not to go all Mary Poppins on them, but a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down. And, contrary to their apparent thinking, keeps subscribers. Something to ponder, BANG.
