I had a visit from my great granddaughter the other day, and she was compelled to complain about various things. Her phone had died, and we had nothing to talk about so she read the newspaper for a spell. It didn’t take long before she started complaining about the awkwardness of it all – how it hurt her arms and shoulders to hold it aloft as she digested the news of the previous week.
Ah, but a paper is more than just news – and can do much more than that dead phone of hers. The size of the paper, I explained, was to create a private space. Just as Trump’s wall will protect us from drugs and rappers, this wall of paper lets people know not to bother the reader inside. Our vagrants and panhandlers proudly sleep under the news, while our shoes are stuffed with crumpled remains keeping us out of the morgue with pneumonia.
Other than the physical uses, newspapers also deliver the obscure news you’d never hear at the beauty parlor. How else would I have discovered that Peachtree City was rated top city in the US to visit if not for the paper?
The staff at the local paper is the best! My paperboy, Billy, never delivers a wet paper – he stays home when it rains. We have a good arrangement – I buy him and his gang beer and he beats up any kids that look at me sideways.