My Sick Mind

Monday marked a major event in the history of America. My daily Philadelphia Inquirer cost a dollar for the first time in my life, raising the price a quarter per day. I've had a daily newspaper (or two) delivered to my home every day since I was a kid. It's only now that I have begun to question the wisdom of it. Many years ago, I thought people would give up smoking when cigarettes began costing a dollar a pack. Now that they are over 7 dollars a pack, I not only question smokers' decisions, but my own perception of how intelligent cigarette smokers are. I am certain that there are cigarette smokers who think I'm a dope for paying a dollar for a newspaper. They're still a bargain, the newspapers. On a monetary basis, they provide hours of entertainment and we are free to choose to read all of it or none of it. But they have lost some of their clout because the immediacy of the Internet has rendered some (or all) of their content as irrelevant as the evening news...

I love my newspaper. I get it delivered to my home every day. In fact, I'd have a hard time doing without it. I love everything the newspaper represents: The sense of community, the local flavor and its connection with people who live in its delivery area. Today's newspaper included the usual Parade magazine, which I'm surprised anyone reads. Does anyone read it? I'd be surprised. They're doing the usual "Year-end wrap-up," which is the journalistic equivalent of phoning it in. Nevertheless, we're stuck with it. Newspapers are dying. Does anyone wonder why? When I saw the cover, I threw up in my mouth. I thought we were through with this horrible woman and her ideals. I suppose not. There she was, pointing her finger at me and I could hear that voice, don'tcha know, as though I'm an idiot for not seeing what a regular gal she is. It's Palin redux . Or maybe it's Tina Fey? Best or worst? You can answer the question on your own: I...

Brackets. Did you fill out your bracket? How's you bracket? Did you do a bracket? Do you want to get in our braket pool? Bracket ... bracket ... bracket ... bracket. The bracket pool. America's big springtime time-killing obscession between Valentine's Day and Memorial Day. Millions of hours wasted on filling in names of teams that none of us know anything about, except when it comes to the semi-finals, and Gonzaga is in the "Sweet 16" and we feel compelled to tell everyone, "I had them in my bracket." Good for you, buddy. Anything worth paying attention to is worth gambling on. Otherwise, we're only into drinking holidays like St. Patrick's Day and the day before Thanksgiving. The Philadelphia Inquirer, our local newspaper, had the audacity to print a blank bracket in Sunday's paper, expecting us to fill in the names of the teams as they were announced. Seconds after "The Selection Show" the names and filled-in brackets were av...