Dear god, can we really be here again? How many revolutions of the big blue marble has it been...one? A million? What is this oily haze making everything dim...how much of this awful stuff have we breathed in. And what are the health implications? Have we learned a single thing in the intervening years?
Dear "The People," Raise a glass with me and let's drink to the dead, to the still-warm corpse of a fine institution and all our high ideals. Journalism, you were a fine old thing - the bulldog now rotting under fresh dirt in the backyard and replaced by an irritating yipper which, for the purposes of this unhinged (but enterprising) piece of tour-de-force wacko nutjob screed, we will call News.