STOP THE PRESSES? OH NO!

I hated to hear it...! The publisher of the New York Times said they will eventually stop printing...!

Yes, yes, I know all about on-line progress. And about the temporary dislocation and price society must pay for technological advancement. Fine. But at this age I must be allowed my memories. Memories, as we eventually learn, have a life of their own, for they are are totally independent of our will. Even of our better judgment.

And so, reading my hard copy of today's Times, a froth of satisfying breakfast-table memories bubble up. I hesitate at the prospects of someday being left only with those hard copy publications which have already surrendered responsible reporting to hustled headlining. When and if my Times stops delivering to my front door the aromatic fragrance of ink-on-paper, I fear I will have to work harder to ferret out what really counts in my society, no matter how spectacular my iPads will soon look!

Consider.

Glitzy celebrity photo-journalism will persist more than ever in sophomorically spotlighting abs, bosoms and bar fights. Which will mean even less space for what once actually earned celebrity. Talent! Already talent and training have become the fascination of only the few, while the many flock more to the tough and tacky.

Sports too tends to be covered more and more for its fights on the playing fields and feuds in the locker rooms. What the ancient Greeks once elevated to statuarys of athleticism, is now the journalistic play dough of reporters concocting the next scandal. Scores, sure they'll still be listed day to day; ahh but scandals,they live forever.

Music and movies? Well, yes, other publications will continue to deal with them. But mostly measuring them in box office receipts rather than aesthetic rewards. True, the public is hooked by flashy marquee grabbers, but once inside the concert halls and the theatres, even the public need something more than PR to fill the next 120 minutes. Who will be left to so advise them?

Education too is a perennial news item, but there is so much more to this indispensable institution than the usual gaggle of re-churned stories about metal detectors, aging campuses, teacher pensions, and the latest shoot-from-the-hip reform sensation. If publishers have the temerity to talk about better teaching, they better get past the standard copy that gets used every September. But they won't.

Finally, gangs and mayhem are always the stuff that sells. If-it-bleeds-it-leads is still the newsroom mantra. Here, though, is the whole problem of skin-deep journalism in one hard-to-crack nutshell. Send in the cameras and reporters to catch the cadence of crime. Then quick put it out there. Now on to the next headline. No time for the back stories about where, why and how gangs will continue to fester if the public remains simply angry.

Picturing this brand of jungle journalism rushing to fill the print vacuum left by the Times is a picture worth more than a thousand words. But one will suffice: "Retreat!"

Mr Publisher -- tell me it ain't so....