Hey Jeff — Thanks buddy!
We in the DC area could kiss your shiny, little head for saving the Washington Post from itself. You did us all a solid.
And now that you’re out on the dating circuit again, you’re looking damn studly, I must say — however, I need a serious favor: can you tell the WaPo gang to lose the Sunday plastic grab bag of ads? All that printer’s ink isn’t helping the environment.
Seems that back when you were busy selling used paperbacks, well before you joined the mosh pit here in new Rome, the management team leading our only local rag was desperate to bring in dinari anyway they could short of endorsing a Republican. Print circulation wasn’t growing and print advertising had gone the way of the stegosaurus. Times were desperate for the newspaper industry.
Remember that scheme the then-publisher, Ms. Weymouth, came up with to hold private salons for public officials to schmooze with Post writers — for a $25,000 per head fee?
“Post publisher Katharine Weymouth had planned a series of exclusive dinner parties or “salons” at her private residence, to which she had invited prominent lobbyists, trade group members, politicians, and business people. Participants were to be charged $25,000 to sponsor a single salon, and $250,000 for 11 sessions, with the events being closed to the public and to the non-Post press… Almost immediately following the disclosure, Weymouth canceled the salons, saying, ‘This should never have happened.’.” from Wikipedia article, The Washington Post
Katherine Graham was turning over in her grave, and I don’t think she was dead yet.
And that even more swell gimmick, slipping in monthly English versions of the China Daily ‘supplement’ written and paid for by the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party (CCCP) — such a feel-good, democratic bunch.
I’d heft a couple pounds from the driveway, thinking ‘great reading’ to find that? I’d save the bags for my dog’s dumps. The bigger the dump the better.
Mind, I don’t object to a little propaganda, long as it’s about peace and love, but from a frenemy like China? And for a while, the Mensa guys and gals at WaPo were printing a Russian version, as well. Putin and Trump were laughing real hard at that joke.
This was around the time the WaPo listicles began. The five most common misunderstandings — about nuclear disarmament — about constitutional law practice — oh, just fill in the blank. Any fifth grader could phone in the articles; no need to pay a proper journalist.
Getting to the heart of it, some WaPo super shandy ad persons decided on the plastic bag stuffed with Kmart coupons and cheap Swatch deals — what accompanies the Saturday deliveries of the Sunday Post these days — needed something for the suckers, er, subscribers, tempting them to rip the plastic apart and indulge in coupon clipping like in the good old days. I expect so as to sooth the advertisers paying to print out all that excess paper — and give the subscribers peeks at great tire deals from Sears and Costco-brand engine oil.
Jeff, here’s the thing: the said marketing gurus at your shiny new newspaper decided — before your chariot descended from above— since no one was reading the ad inserts, they should toss in the Washington Post Magazine along with the ads — you know, that country cousin to the NY Times Magazine we lowly inhabitants who pay taxes here might like to read— to accompany the mailer ads so at least the plastic bag got opened before they were tossed.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
Oh, and I’m forgetting: they stuff the Parade Magazine into the package as well — which by this time was shrunk to a four ad-heavy page spread and a solitary article about Donnie Osmond being interviewed about his five hardest life lessons — listicle style to be sure.
Back in the good old days, when Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford were running things, the Washington Post had aspirations to supplant the NY Times. No shit, Jeff.
The NY Times, being desperate themselves to replace the ad revenue, had taken to annoying their readers with the monthly T magazine, glossy and loaded with full-color ads for Rolex and Swarovski watches ‘you only take care of for the next generation’ to pass down to an annoying, pimple-faced son, or some such hooey, along with prepubescent models wearing nearly nothing Nabokov whacked on about.
And the emaciated metro-male sidekicks in polka dot pants and safety yellow high tops, and the single article about an unheard-of a Polish-Tasmanian novelist living grandly on Patmos with his closest familiars, his blue iguanas.
Poor WaPo only has its weekly mailer filled with ‘deals.’
Jeff, I don’t mean to imply Gene Weingarten is a slouch — damned if he didn’t get himself two Pulitzers for his humor columns in the old rag. D used to love reading Weingarten out loud Sunday mornings; only the magazine is now being plopped on the driveway on Saturdays, when she’s still sleeping off her wild Friday nights. And now that Dave Barry’s gone fishing in the Keys, Gene’s the only game in town — only thing worth reading in the old WaPo Mag.
Think of all Gene’s hard work writing and self-editing — since all the editors have been laid off — being packaged with the same ton of ads the Post Office dumps in the mailbox at odd hours — odd days, come to think about it, and I don’t think the Post Office knows Kmart has gone out of business. I don’t think the Post Office knows they’ve gone out of business.
To be frank, we’re just tired of tearing open the plastic to get at the WaPo Magazine. We’d been conditioned to drop the pile of ads into the recycling bin. Now, we just dump the entire mess into the bin, plastic wrapper, Gene Weingarten and all — why bother separating?
Poor Gene — and those cute Date Lab darlings looking for love in all the wrong places. Sorry, but it’s too much effort.
So, here’s the pitch: you surely have enough Amazonian geeks enslaved, er, under contract. Why not set them free to help the salespeople at WaPo find a new source of sucker income? What was it I heard you guys hired this year, 400,000 new Amazonians? Holy shit, that’s an army!
That’s more than the states of North and South Dakota combined. Maybe you could buy the Dakotas and give the Black Hills back to the Lakota Nation. You can spare a few Amazonians, and the country can sure afford to lose four worthless Senators. I’d vote for the Lakota to straighten that shit out in no time flat.
Your precious WaPo needs help, pal— and please, a better domain name while you’re at it. WaPo sounds like a bad 50s cartoon character.
PS, Gene Weingarten says he’s none too happy with the current situation; he hasn’t shaved in years. You’d like him, but you can’t date him; he’s already taken, and he told me to tell you, he ain’t no damn T magazine model neither.
