The Jew York Times

About this time last year, I told my wife I was thinking about canceling our subscription to the LA Times.

The papers were piling up in the kitchen, mostly unread. And we were consuming all our news via the interwebs. Or worse via Facebook feeds and social media.

But, my wife,  a sales rep for Harvard Business Review, refused. Saying she did not want to add another nail to the coffin and contribute to the death of printed media.

Instead, we went the other way.

We re-upped our subscription to the LA Times. And added the NY Times to arrive on our doorstep. And with the ascension of Precedent Shitgibbon, who has all but weaponized disinformation, we couldn't be happier.

My long dormant routine of reading the newspaper has been revived.

I now make it a lunchtime habit of high protein, low carbs and a heaping helping of some unvarnished truth.

Now, I know some of the naysayers are out there, ready to pounce with their charges of bias. A lack of objectivity. And how the New York Times is pushing an agenda.

Yeah, sure. These charges mean nothing coming from people who source their news from Breitbart, Alex Jones or even Sean Hannity.

Moreover, I'm a big boy and can read between the lines. I've worked in advertising a very, very long time and recognize spin when I smell it. Or, when I'm paid exorbitant day rates to weave it.

I also make it a habit to read the news from the other side. And have bookmarked conservative media on my computer. I will even concede there are times when they are right on the money, often pointing out how some media outlets hype or overplay their hand. I'm looking at you Rachel Maddow and your cloying TV affectations.

But in the end, we all have to trust somebody.

I trust scientists who tell us the universe is 13 billions years old because they have evidence.
I don't trust clerics who pimp the 6,000 year old story of Adam and Eve and a talking snake.

I trust climatologists who have the data to support our overheating atmosphere.
I don't trust senile Congressmen who bring snowballs into the halls of the Capitol building.

And I trust journalists, who work for the Old Grey Lady -- the equivalent of the 1927 Yankees -- and who have won more than their fair share of Pulitzer prizes. And can actually spell Pulitzer. I don't trust raging roid-aholics who would have us believe there are child sex slaves on Mars.

Though I will admit, for sheer entertainment value, Alex Jones and his throbbing neck veins, beats the pants off even the most colorful obits in the NY Times.