The way of the dodo, they say. But in this short article, ensconced in the vast anonymity of the Internet, I wanted to mention the value of a select group of people who are becoming fewer and fewer as the years of the twenty-first century continue blowing by in a windstorm of words, language, and digital innovation: those who read a physical copy of the newspaper, the holdouts, the good-old traditionalists who have always pushed the envelope when it mattered. Come to me, your greatest cheerleader—I invite you to remain connected, but only at a distance, my kindred spirits of the printed word floating somewhere in the world.
We can use telepathy and the trusty process of precognition, envisioning a place where others will never see us. Lurking in the dark and around sharp corners, we can escape the prying oversight of our current and future enemies: the machines, driven by the principles of cost-cutting and financial efficiency, which is the death of a minority preference.
And that, the tactile experience of a newspaper in all its wonder and unsung glory, is a preference that is worth fighting for. Come this way. Crinkle that. Stand up for the righteous wisdom of the minority. Ultimately, what is more important than standing your ground and getting your hands dirty, from time to time maybe even filthy—or inky?
